The Reckoning

By Mike Torreano

​Ike McAlister returns home to Kansas after the Civil War, his soul bruised and empty. Worse, his parents have been killed by Quantrill’s raiders who are still on the loose. No stranger to death and destruction, he vows to run the killers down. A clue leads him to the high plains of Colorado, but when his sister, Sue, disappears from there, his world quickly spins out of control. In the midst of this turmoil, a feisty landlady sparks an attraction, the only good thing in Ike’s life. Racing against time, he must make a deadly choice. If he continues to pursue the killers, Sue will likely never be found. But if he veers off to find his sister, the killers’ trail will go cold. Which track to follow? Will the love of family triumph in his broken heart, or will it be the passionate hate of revenge?​

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Sep 16, 2016
• ISBN: 9781509209309

Mike Torreano

Mike Torreano has a military background and is a student of history and the American West. He fell in love with Zane Grey’s novels about the Painted Desert in the fifth grade, when his teacher made her students read a book and write a report every week. Mike recently had a short story set during the Yukon gold rush days published in an anthology, and he’s written for magazines and small newspapers. An experienced editor, he’s taught University English and Journalism. He’s a member of Colorado Springs Fiction Writers, Pikes Peak Writers, The Historical Novel Society, and Western Writers of America. He brings his readers back in time with him as he recreates American life and times in the late 19th century. He lives in Colorado Springs Colorado with his wife, Anne.

Book preview

novel.

Chapter One

Southeastern Kansas, Spring 1868

Ike McAlister spurred hard for the two renegades galloping dead ahead. Early spring mud flew from his horse’s hooves as he closed on his prey. He felt the familiar sense of cold fury come over him. His parents’ killers had eluded him for far too long. Ike slapped his reins left and right on Ally’s neck, something he’d rarely ever done, even during the war. He’d catch these murderers like he’d caught the others, or die trying.

The nearest outlaw turned in his saddle, and the setting sun glimmered off the fugitive’s pistol. A shot rang out, and a bullet whistled past Ike’s cheek. Ike yanked Ally’s reins and dove off the horse as she slowed. Tumbling on the ground, he grabbed for his gun. The men ahead also pulled up.

Nobody had ever outrun Ally.

There was no proper cover for miles on the windswept Kansas mesa. Last year’s knee-high brown grasses served as woefully inadequate concealment for both hunter and hunted.

Ike’s brother, Rob, fired his Winchester from behind Ike, then leapt off his horse as well and landed next to his older brother.

One of the fugitives appeared as a dark form backlit against the lowering afternoon sun as he pulled his horse down in front of him. Ike steadied his gun hand with his other arm and drew a bead on him with his long-barreled Colt .44. His first shot missed but came close enough to motivate the outlaw to drop toward the ground, but before the killer disappeared from sight, Ike’s rapid-fire second shot hit him square in the chest. The sharp report of gunfire echoed over the gently rolling hills.

Damn! the fallen outlaw howled to his partner hidden nearby. They got me, Johnny. Wind carried the wounded man’s plaintive voice over the still landscape.

Moving grasses gave away the other killer’s location as he crawled toward his stricken companion. Rob fired twice into the center of the shifting grass, then knelt down, rifle at the ready. The grasses resumed a gentler movement with the wind.

Ike kept his breathing steady and stayed as still as possible. Rob took short breaths beside him.

One of the bandits pleaded, Johnny, you okay? Johnny, I’m hurt bad. Johnny! Then silence.

Ike waited. He held his pistol well out in front of him, pointed in the direction of the men’s last sounds. After a crouching walk, he found them both motionless in the grass, ten feet apart. The one Ike had shot lay curled up, eyes fixed on nothing, a still hand on his chest. As Ike turned to the outlaw Rob hit, the killer swung his six shooter up and fired. The bullet buried itself deep in Ike’s thigh and knocked him to the ground. Before Ike could return fire, Rob pumped three shots into the murderer. Smoke trailed lazily from his rifle barrel, and a breezy quiet reclaimed the land.

Ike struggled to his feet with a hand to his leg and limped to where the shooter lay dead. Imaginary artillery shells boomed all around him, and a cold sweat traveled down his back. Too close a call, but there had been too many close calls in his life. The odds were increasing that one of these would put him down for good. His breathing slowed, and the shells went silent.

Rob shouted from behind, He’s dead, ain’t he, Ike?

Ike answered without looking back at his brother. Well, if not breathin’ qualifies as dead, then he’s dead. Ike flung his hat to the ground. Nothing was as it should be. The war had destroyed nearly everything he once knew. There wasn’t much left inside him either. He stumbled slightly but caught himself with a hand on Rob’s shoulder.

He eyed the body sprawled at his feet with two holes in the brown leather vest, then his gaze traveled back to the other murderer. Neither one was Manning. His fury faded to resignation. You’re too good a shot, Rob. Wish you’d have just wounded this one. Maybe we could have found somethin’ new about Manning, but you dropped him cold. Damn! he yelled into the empty Kansas air.

Couldn’t take that chance, Ike. The vest already shot you once, and I wasn’t gonna give him another chance, far as I was able. Just sit back down now, and let me take a look at that leg.

Ike worked himself to the ground and let Rob rip at the bullet hole in his britches. All he could think about was finding Ross Manning and his killers. He’d been tracking Quantrill’s Raiders ever since the Confederate guerrillas killed his father and more than a hundred other unfortunates on a raid through Lawrence during the Civil War. His father’s butcher—Manning—was still out there. Somewhere.

That wound don’t look good, Ike. Got to get you back to Lawrence and let the doc have a look at it. How the heck did he get the drop on you? I never knew that to happen before.

I just got stupid, and thought I’d already dispatched him to Hell. Ike grimaced, the stinging pain burning its way into his consciousness as his adrenaline drained away. Pain was his constant companion these days, but it wasn’t just from the throbbing of a gunshot wound. The hurt he felt hung heavy around his heart. Hunting killers was the only thing that helped him mask the ache of all he’d lost.

Don’t know if I can get up again or not, Rob. Damn leg feels like it’s on fire. Ike untied his dirty yellow cavalry bandana from around his neck. As he pressed it against the bullet hole, artillery shells sounded again in his head, and his ears filled with the screams of the dying. He pushed them away and pressed harder. There wasn’t much blood from the wound, but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

Well, you ain’t got a choice, Ike. I got to get you up on Ally. Can’t leave you here and go for help. It’s too far. You’re just gonna have to ride back to town.

Ike whistled for Ally, and the mare came trotting, reins hanging down from her neck. He jammed his stained gray Stetson over his long brown hair, grabbed hold of Ally’s stirrup, and pulled himself off the ground a bit. Help me up.

From behind, Rob got his arms under his brother’s broad shoulders and lifted him the rest of the way to a stand. Ike gave Ally a down motion with his hand, and the mare knelt so he could straddle her more easily. He swung his bad leg over Ally’s back but couldn’t reach the stirrup with it. As Ally rose, Ike grimaced, his wounded leg dangling uselessly to the side.

After several hours of riding, camp that night was cold and painful. There was no wood for a fire on the windswept prairie, so dinner was a cold mix of beef jerky and two-day-old coffee. Cool night air chilled the brothers as wolves howled their lonely calls in the distance. Ike lay back on the grass and pulled his thin blanket over him. He stared up at the brilliant stars overhead and wondered how he’d come to be on a Kansas prairie, leg shot up, and a big hole in his heart.

The brothers reached Lawrence by midday the next day. The uneven ground and the stabbing ache in his leg had stolen Ike’s sleep the night before, so by the time he reached town, he was teetering in the saddle. The doctor got him to lie down on what passed for an operating table and the chloroform put him under fast. When Ike came to, he was still on the table. In his daze, he rolled to one side and started to push up, but the doctor stopped him with a hand to his chest.

You’re not going anywhere just yet, Ike McAlister. You sure do know a lot of curse words though, and I think you used ’em all on me as I was putting you under. And don’t you give me any backtalk about not getting up. I brought you into this world, so you just heed what I say. Lie back now and get some shut-eye.

Ike slurred. Did you get the bullet out, Doc?

I did, but had to dig deep for it. It was hiding in a place that’s not good to poke around in. Couldn’t tell if it hit anything important; we’ll find that out soon enough. Hopefully, it will heal in time though. Rob, you just make sure to keep the wound clean. Splash some whiskey on it regular, and let me know right away if the skin around the bullet hole starts to turn red.

Rob said, But he’ll be okay, right, doc?

If you’re asking if he’ll live, likely he will unless infection sets in, but I don’t think he’ll ever be right again. I never did see anybody so scarred up though. The war was awful hard on you, Ike.

I got nicked up a bit but never put out of action. He closed his eyes.

Well, you’re gonna be out of action for a while now.

****

When Ike first returned to Lawrence after the war, he and Rob rode out to what was left of the family farm on the outskirts of the small city. As Ike slid off Ally in front of the blackened farmhouse, his sister Sue burst out of the front door and ran toward him. He stared at her like he was looking at a ghost. We thought sure you was dead, too.

Her worn dress hung limply on her thin body. It’d take more than those devils to do me in. Her eyes blazed, then welled up.

Ike pursed his lips, held out his arms, and she rushed into them. He wrapped her in a tight bear hug. Tears dripped as he embraced his sobbing sister. A blaze of anger surged in him, but he pushed it back. The raiders had taken a lot from him, but they hadn’t gotten Sue. He was going to make sure no one ever would.

Then you didn’t get my letter? She still held him tightly.

No, he said softly, I didn’t. I heard in town they killed Dad, but I ain’t heard how Momma died.

Sue wiped at her face and stammered as she looked up at him. She couldn’t take Poppa dyin’ in her arms. Couldn’t handle it. She took his gun…

Ike reached out and wrapped his arms around her tighter. No need to say any more. No need. I’m just so sorry I couldn’t get back here before now. His heart raced. An angry flush spread up from his neck and over his face. Killers had stolen his folks from him.

****

Over the next few months, the three McAlisters patched the farm back together as best they could, but their hearts weren’t in it. Every room of the farmhouse brought back memories of their parents. There were two things wrong with the farm—it didn’t produce enough food to live on, and there wasn’t any extra to sell. The occasional anonymous provisions on their front porch were what kept the three of them going. Ike and Rob farmed in fits and starts, in between chasing down raiders they got tips about.

Ike was hunched over one day, working on a broken wagon wheel outside the barn when he spied a lone rider heading his way.

Sheriff Will Butler pulled his horse up in front of the farmhouse. Hello, Ike. Thought I’d stop by to see how you’re doin’. How’s the leg?

Still there. He put his hoe down, straightened up, and tried to stand taller by shifting weight off his bad leg. Butler wasn’t a man he looked forward to seeing, for a number of reasons.

How’s things here on the farm? The bulky sheriff began a laborious effort to get down off his horse.

"Not so good, Sheriff. Me and Rob been ridin’ out so much lately, sometimes I don’t know if I’m comin’ or goin’. And sure enough, when we are able to get around to farmin’, along comes another ride we light out on. We got winter wheat we should be gatherin’ in soon, but the way things have been goin’ lately, it may rot in the fields before we get to it. A fleeting image of his father straining in these same fields flashed through his mind. He shook his head. Ahh, don’t mind me. Come on in and set a spell." Ike sat at the kitchen table and indicated a chair to Butler.

The sheriff sat heavily. Sometimes things around here don’t feel too good to me, either.

Sue set a glass of apple cider in front of him. Knocks back the Kansas spring heat and humidity.

Tastes like it’s been fermentin’ quite nicely, Sue. Thank you kindly.

Ike stared at Butler. Can’t say as I look forward to your visits, Sheriff. He was torn about the lawman. He held it against Butler for not being able to save his folks, but also knew the lawman was his best chance to track down their killers.

I understand, Ike. I got a big territory to watch over, or I’da been out here sooner. You know I ain’t had no deputy since the raid. Guess nobody’s fool enough to want to help me chase down those devils.

Ike rubbed at his beard. Any sheriff worth his salt would be out on the trail himself, after what those killers did. At the same time, Ike wanted to be the one dispatching the killers. Any way he looked at it was painful. Jim Hunt was a good man. My oldest friend. It was just like Jim to take the raider’s bullet meant for Butler.

The sheriff said, I can still see you and Jim as kids, runnin’ away down main street after chuckin’ stones at the older boys. He frowned. Some of them never did come back from the war.

Ike stared at his empty coffee cup, then looked back up at the old lawman. Ike had had enough of small talk. It wasn’t his strong suit anyway. Butler was likely sitting there because he brought news about more raiders. What’s on your mind, Sheriff?

The lawman put his cider down and leaned in toward Ike.

Ike’s palms grew moist. A mixture of eagerness and unease warred inside him as he pictured another hard ride ending in death. He pushed an image of his folks out of his mind.

Butler’s face turned grim. I just caught wind of a group I thought you ought to know about. I’m told that one of the varmints in this bunch mighta been leadin’ part of the raid that killed your pa.

Ike straightened up. Manning?

Could be, but I don’t rightly know. No way to be sure from this distance.

What’s that mean, from this distance? Where’s this raider supposed to be now?

Well, the trail’s pretty old, but a fella I trust told me this outlaw and his gang headed west a few years ago to Colorado. Somewhere outside of Denver a ways. He raised a cigarette to his mouth and lit it. Ain’t often we get a lead on one of the ringleaders, now is it? The sheriff looked at Ike for a moment, then changed the subject. You look like you’ve lost some more weight, Ike. Never seen you so scrawny, even as a kid. You sure you’re okay?

Ike got up and limped to the stove. He rubbed his forehead, poured another cup of warmed-over coffee, and squinted back at Butler. Reckon I’m about as okay as I’m ever gonna be. But nothin’s gonna stop me from doin’ what needs to be done.

Butler nodded, then looked over at Sue. Can I have another one of those ciders, Miss Sue?

Sue glanced at Ike, and he shook his head. She said, Looks like you just drank your limit, Sheriff. Don’t want you falling off your horse on the way back to town. You might not get found for weeks. She broke into a slight grin, and an outline of the same appeared on Butler’s face. Ike’s hand tightened hard around his cup.

The sheriff lumbered to a stand and fixed Ike with a stare. This town still ain’t got over what those sumbitches did to it. And to your family. He put his weathered hat back on. And Lawrence won’t never get over it ’til those varmints are all rounded up and hung. Or shot.

Ike stared back. The worst part was not knowing how many more killers he’d have to chase down before he found Manning. He straightened up and limped out of the kitchen to the front porch.

When he reached his horse, Butler turned back to Ike. You’re walkin’ some better, Ike. Ain’t wobblin’ near as much as you have been. What’s it been, a couple of months now?

Ike’s eyes narrowed, and he nodded.

The sheriff swung up into the saddle, as well as an overweight, worn-out old man could, and looked down at Ike. He wiped at his forehead with a dirty gray handkerchief. Those raiders know about you and Rob, Ike. More and more of ’em have hightailed it on out of here to different states. Some west to Colorado territory, some back east, and some down to Texas. But the ones still around are a hard lot. Wouldn’t surprise me if they were huntin’ you and Rob, or even Sue, right now. Be careful.

Ike’s stomach tightened. Big brothers don’t let bad things happen to their little sisters.

After dinner that night, the three McAlisters sat around the small kitchen table. Ike stared at his brother and sister. Sounds like the hound of Hell we’re lookin’ for might be holed up in Colorado. Could be Manning.

Rob put his coffee down and wiped at his mouth with a dirty napkin. But Butler wasn’t sure, was he?

No, he wasn’t sure, but he felt strong enough about this outlaw to ride back out here. Says his source ought to know. You both heard him. He said these are likely some of the leaders, or at least one of ’em is.

Sue leaned forward, both hands gripping the edge of the table. How we gonna find ’em?

Ike wiped his hands on his trousers as a stab of concern ran through him. There’s no ‘we’ to it. I figure I’ll head on out to Colorado and look for ’em, and let you two know what I find out. He rose from the table, standing as tall as he could.

Sue sprang up and pounded her small fist on the table. Her mouth was contorted with anger. If anybody’s going, Ike McAlister, it’s gonna be me. She double tapped a finger on her chest as she said it. You still ain’t healed enough to be long on a horse yet, and this farm needs someone to work it if we expect to eat regular. Besides, they won’t suspect that a woman’s on their trail. You two big galoots would stand out like sore thumbs and likely scare ’em off if you ever found ’em, or worse yet, get yourselves killed. This is one time I’m not staying behind.

Ike dismissed her with a wave of his hand. You ain’t goin’; you’re just a kid.

Sue turned scarlet. In case you haven’t noticed, Ike McAlister, I’m not a kid anymore. I’m almost nineteen, and I’d be married and probably have a few kids by now if Billy Johnson hadn’t been killed in that raid near five years ago. Tears ran down her cheeks. "So don’t you dare stand there and tell me I’m just a kid!" She put both hands on the wobbly table and leaned toward Ike, arms shaking.

Ike tried to stay calm, but his insides heaved and his heart raced. You ain’t goin’ and that’s that. The zing of minie bullets rang in his ears, and his forehead glistened. He wiped the memories away with a hankie to his forehead. He was on the verge of losing this quarrel with his sister. He could feel it.

Sue raised a hand against him. It’s settled then, that’s all there is to it. She stuck her chin out and stared her brothers down. I’ll leave for Colorado as soon as I get packed. She turned on her heel and walked away.

Ike watched silently as Sue disappeared to the back of the house.

Rob said, Ain’t you gonna go talk to her?

Reckon I will, but she’s right about one thing. We still got to make a living while we’re huntin’ killers. Crops don’t plant or harvest themselves.

Rob blurted, Then you need to help me more out in the fields. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, a red flush spread over Rob’s face. I didn’t mean nothin’ by that, Ike, I didn’t. I know you’re doin’ the best you can with that leg.

Ike white-knuckled his dinner fork and stared silently down at his plate as his face reddened. He wasn’t making headway with either of them. They were supposed to listen to him now that their folks were gone. He pushed himself up awkwardly away from the table and limped out of the room.

Ike, come back, I didn’t mean that. Come back.

We’ll pick this conversation up later, he said back over his shoulder. He hobbled back to Sue’s bedroom. He couldn’t change the past, but he could change the future.

She was back in their parents’ bedroom, leaning over her mother’s old black walnut dresser, pulling out the few clothes she had. The bureau was one of the only pieces to escape the fire that nearly engulfed the farmhouse after the raid.

Ike sat on the bedroom’s creaky wooden chair, bad leg sticking straight out. You’re not gonna do that, Sue. You’re not gonna go out to Colorado by yourself!

Didn’t think you’d like the idea, but I’m doing it anyway, and you know I will, Ike McAlister, one way or the other. Her voice rose as she finished, and she fixed him with a gritty stare.

Ike smacked the arms of his chair with both hands. Damn it, Sue! Nobody never could talk no sense into you, from the time you was just little.

She ignored that, and he steepled his fingers together in front of him. His boot beat a restless cadence on the rough, wooden floorboards. You’re not leavin’ this house. We need you around here. Ike even believed that on some level.

She spun toward him, her dirty blonde hair flying in the air as she did. Those bastards that killed our parents are still out there, Ike, killing other people! How’s me staying here gonna help stop that? I’m sick of leaving the fixing to you. And I’m sick of living in this mess of a place we call a ranch. It’ll never feel like home again with Ma and Pa gone.

Ike struggled to control his anger. Nothing was working. She was as stubborn as their mother and took after her in looks and passion. He’d failed to protect her once—he couldn’t let that happen again. If you leave, don’t think about coming back home again. That should stop her.

It had the opposite effect. Sue turned toward him, face aflame. "You left! For that damn foolish war, and look what happened! Our parents and our farm—dead and ruined. And ever since you been back, you keep on leaving, chasing after raiders, yet you haven’t made things right no matter how many you’ve hunted down. She wiped at her splotchy face with a hand. I’m sick of sitting here, Ike. For once, I want to feel like I’m doing something with my life."

Every word stirred pangs of regret that stabbed Ike’s soul, just like on that fateful day he’d heard from Butler about his folks. He couldn’t stand to lose her too. You’re stayin’, and that’s all! He lurched out of her room and slammed the flimsy door behind him. Ignoring the pain in his leg, he limped to the heavy trunk that lay down the hall and dragged it in front of her door. As he listened outside her room, sadness took the place of his anger, and the flush faded from his face. There was no noise from her bedroom. He yelled, I’m ridin’ out in the morning, and limped to bed convinced he’d done the right thing.

****

The next morning, Rob followed Ike out to what passed for their barn. She must’ve rode out before dawn.

Give me that letter. Ike grabbed it from Rob’s hand and crushed it without reading it or slowing down. When he reached the barn, he gazed at Ally’s empty stall, then glanced at the vacant rail where he always draped her saddle. Volcanic anger flooded Ike’s vision with white light. He looked down at the crumpled letter in his hand and spread it out on a small bench.

To my big-galoot brothers,

I’m headed to Denver to see if I can pick up on any talk of Kansas outlaws thereabouts, and then I’ll send word. I’ll leave both your horses at the sheriff’s in town. Good thing it’s a cool morning, makes for a nice walk.

Sue

Rob peered into the last stall. My horse is gone too.

Ike nodded without looking up. Yup.

Rob looked up at his big brother. You think we could catch her at the train station?

Maybe so, but leave her be. Something inside Ike relented, understood his sister’s need. Hadn’t he been doing the same thing for years that she’d just done? She needs to go. If we catch her and bring her back today, she’ll just leave again tomorrow.

So now we’re just waitin’ to hear from her, then? Is that it?

That’s right. Ike stared out at the rolling landscape in the direction of Lawrence. The hole in his heart had just

Reviews for The Reckoning

[cathygeha · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A true western with gunfights, trails to ride, camaraderie and evil men to thwart. Set just after the Civil War this story tells the story of Ike McAlister, his brother Rob and his sister Sue. Their parents were killed by bushwhackers and revenge is on their mind. They have one name, Manning, they are searching for and the evil man must pay his dues for the wrong he has done. With a trip to Colorado, new people to interact with, mysteries to solve and then Sue having disappeared the tale becomes more complex and a gang of good “guys” now pursue men and answers and the location of Sue. Fun to read – it took me back to reading my father’s copies of Louis L’Amour and other western authors. I would like to thank NK author services for the copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.