Small Boots

By George Emery Townsend

Small Boots is the fourth book in the Cooper Series. Dear friend of the Coopers, Richard Krause travels north to buy a bull when the seller's wife decides she wants Richard in the worst way. Sparks fly when the embers of romance and Colt 45s explode. After the smoke clears Richard finds himself facing the gallows.
Meanwhile, back in Los Angeles, the sadistic Samantha Foster has created the perfect crime and continues to torment our main character, Ray Cooper to the point of murder.

• Language: English
• Publisher: George Emery Townsend
• Release date: Jul 7, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370822751

George Emery Townsend

George Townsend was born in Ionia Michigan. Thanks to the heroic efforts of his mother who downed a bottle of Castor Oil on the eve of March thirty first, George was born (to his mother's great relief) just two hours shy of April Fool's Day. The Townsends had found early success in ranching, farming, and land ownership. George's parents did not see themselves as farmers and so they left the farm and pursued careers in teaching. Finding work as teachers required the family to move a great deal from school to school and state to state. It wasn't long before George found himself living in Burlington, Wisconsin. He has many fond memories of those days growing up in a city filled with a rich history and loving families. As a teenager the family once again uprooted and moved west to a small city smack in the middle of the San Joaquin Valley in California. Hanford was a far cry from the Midwest. To his great delight, George soon discovered Goat Ropers, Good ol' Boys, and some real life Cowboys along with a warm, down-home feel. It didn't take long before George fit right in and created the friendships that make up many of the characters of his first book, Revenge Requires Two Graves. The rest of the Cooper Series was also greatly influenced by the experiences of his youth. George's natural talents as an investigator and researcher of early western America have tied in nicely with his hunger to create great adventures. While always fascinated by this era in history, it wasn't until the birth of his two sons that he realized he had a library of stories to tell. Now he enjoys mixing historical truths with fictional accounts of the old west to bring that same rich enjoyment he has discovered through research and pure imagination to others.

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SMALL BOOTS

by

GEORGE EMERY TOWNSEND

Copyright © 2017 by George Emery Townsend

Smashwords Edition

License Notes

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

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.

Disclaimer: The persons, places, things, and otherwise animate or inanimate objects mentioned in this novel are figments of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to anything or anyone living (or dead) is unintentional. The author humbly begs your pardon.

DEDICATION

Many books start with a dedication to family, friends or an interesting life experience. When I thought about a dedication, I wanted to do something different, to stand out somehow, and to make this book really zing with new revelation. After great battles with my inner soul, torment over what was real and what was fiction, my mind was made up. I decided that this book was solely created because of my family, friends, and interesting life experiences.

Thank you to Dawn: for spending your entire life at my side, through the good and bad. You are a woman to ride the river with. Parents: you are responsible for the way the little boy turned out and for the strong Midwest attitude and morals I carry today. Brothers: I was always the one following, looking up to my big brothers. Thank you for never letting me down. My sons: the characters in this book are dissections of everything wonderful about each of you. I have had the privilege of watching my sons grow into strong men. My girls: you were my inspiration for creating strong, intelligent women to stand tall within the pages of my book. My friends: you helped make me who I am, helped form the way I think and react and gave me all those interesting life experiences.

Thank you all.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - Cory

Chapter 2 - Richard Krause

Chapter 3 - San Padro

Chapter 4 - Trap Door

Chapter 5 - Ambushed

Chapter 6 - Wells Fargo

Chapter 7 - Like A Rat

Chapter 8 - Love Triangle

Chapter 9 - Jail Time

Chapter 10 - Day In Court

Chapter 11 - Rags to Riches

Chapter 12 - Revenge

Chapter 1

Cory

The fight broke out in front of the single room schoolhouse. The cheering crowd began to gather around the combatants. The loose dirt was rising into a cloud shrouding the flying fists, kicks to the stomach, and biting. It was a vicious battle until the school mum stepped out of the front door and raced into the circle of children.

Miss Amos was unprepared for the ferocity and flow of the fight when she was knocked from her feet and soundly landing on her backside. A sudden fear froze the boys in time when they realized what they had done.

With a gasp the spectators stepped quickly away from the fallen leader and headed straight for the front door. Each returned to their seat, crossed their hands on top of their desks and faced the chalkboard, a room full of little angels. A couple small giggles broke the ranks.

Meanwhile outside, Miss Amos rose slowly from the ground trying to gather all the dignity she could muster. Standing, she brushed the dust from her long dress, placed her hands on her hips and inspected the two boys.

Cory Brown was fourteen years of age, red hair filled with dust and sweat draped down his face. A bloody nose and torn shirt rounded out the five-foot tall lad.

Laying in a mass of torn cloths, bloody lip, and growing black eye was Tommy Cooper, slightly shorter than Cory and two years younger.

Boys, this will be the last time. Every day you two break into a fight. I will not tolerate any more of this, scolded Miss Amos sternly. Now go to the water pump and get cleaned up. We'll talk about this after school.

But my Pa is expectin' me home to do my chores. He'll blister my hide, complained Cory.

You should have thought of that before you boys engaged in fisticuffs. Now go and get washed up. NOW!

Cory stared at Miss Amos for only a few seconds then turned defiantly and marched straight towards his horse.

Cory, you get back here right now! ordered Miss Amos.

Cory never looked back. He swung his leg over the saddle, pulled up the reins and headed his horse out onto the trail.

Tommy walked up along side of Miss Amos. Miss Amos, what's wrong with him? He's my best friend in the whole world and now he acts like he hates me?

I'm not sure, Tommy. I'm not sure. Now get cleaned up and join the rest inside.

Cory rode in a fury of anger. Hate had built up in him while living with his father on the Samantha Foster ranch. Samantha Foster ran a small empire with a purse in one hand and a derringer in the other. She had migrated from Wisconsin when her father was shot to death in their home. She blamed a man named Ray Cooper for the shooting, even though it wasn't Ray's bullet that had killed him. She chased Cooper to California with Revenge in her heart. Her hatred for Ray Cooper had bled over into Cory. Ray Cooper had planned to adopt Cory and the boy Cory he was fighting, Tommy, when he brought them home from San Francisco. But Cory's father, with Samantha's help, showed up in time to claim his son. And of course hating Ray Cooper, naturally trickled down to hating Tommy.

Cory's trail led him past the farmhouse of Horace Applegate. Horace had lost all his sons fighting a land grab that Horace believed was orchestrated by Samantha Foster. Samantha's front man, a man called Arlen Bowl, had forced the sale of the land from Horace. However, the court reversed the deal once the front man's activities came to light. *

* Confederate Horses

Horace was standing out front of his barn looking towards the road as Cory started bye. Cory spotted him and based on what he had been told by Samantha Foster he felt it was his duty to call out a few selected words of profanity.

Exactly what one would expect from the son of Samantha Foster! yelled Horace.

Cory turned his horse through the front gate and rode up to Horace. Miss Foster ain't my kin you crazy old man!

Ain't she? She owns your old man that means she owns you, ya little smart ass.

Cory rode up to where Horace stood, dropped out of his saddle to face the old man. Horace looked down at the boy who was a foot shorter and half the man's weight. Horace was unsure, having had all the fight in him torn away by the loss of his boys; these days he usual just tried to talk his way out of a conflict. This young boy had him off balance.

You take that back, threatened Cory.

Who do you think you're talkin' to boy? I'm your elder, bluffed Horace.

I'll give you one more chance to take it back.

Horace decided to take the high road or at least that's what he told himself. Ok boy, take it easy. Your Pa's all right. In these hard times he can't help who he’s gotts' to work for. There ain't that many jobs around and I reckon he does have him a boy to take care of.

You just can't stop pushing it can ya? My Pa is the best Pa in the world and Miss Foster has been more than good to us. Don't you ever talk badly about 'em again.

Horace found his backbone when his anger rose, Look boy, I tried to be nice, now get off my land!

Or what, you gonna try and throw me off?

If I have to!

Cory took his hat off and hung it from his saddle's horn. Take your best shot, old man.

Horace moved forward in a threatening manner trying to scare the boy. Cory did not hesitate and took a swing. Horace ducked the swing, moved in and grabbed Cory around the waist. Lifting him off the ground from behind. He then dropped Cory hard on the ground. Cory started to rise when Horace dropped a knee across his back and placed his full weight on the boy. Unable to move Cory squirmed and cussed at Horace.

Horace started to remove his belt, boy, you got this comin'.

As he raised the belt to whip the boy's backside his arm was stopped in mid-air. What the hell!

Horace, you can't beat that boy.

Horace looked up the tall strong frame of Ray Cooper, standing over six feet tall and nearly two hundred and forty pounds of muscle. His black hat was set back on his forehead revealing the sun baked features of a handsome rugged man. The copper colored hair flowed just over his ears and down almost to the base of his neck. Broad shoulders covered by a white shirt and black vest.

Now Ray, you know we're good friends, and I know how you feel about Cory here, but it needs to be done. He's runnin' plum loco, said Horace.

Let him up, Horace, commanded Ray in a soft but stern voice.

Well, hell, if you ain't gonna let me, then you do it. He's almost like your son.

I ain't his son. I got a pa and Cooper ain't him, cussed Cory.

Cooper reached over and retrieved Cory's hat from the saddle horn and placed it on his head. Look Cory, I don't know what Miss Foster or your Pa have told you, but if you think hard on it, you'll know where you fit in my life. I didn't want to give you up. You were there that day, younger but old enough to remember what happened. The law won't let me take you away from your Pa, unless he hurts you or something. You come to me straight off if you ever need help. My ranch will always be your home.

You already got Tommy. You don't need me.

Need ain't got nothin' to do with it. I love ya boy. I want you to be my son. I won't quit until I find a way.

Cory stepped up into his saddle and looking down at Cooper, Don't do me no favors. Cory kicked the horse's ribs and headed out of the ranch at a full gallop.

I'm sorry, Ray. I was out of line, but dad-gum-it, I like you and your wife Morgan and it hurts me to see you two suffer over losing that boy. I hate to see him turn bad, and there ain't no other future for him as long as he's out at the Foster Ranch, said Horace as he wiped his worn face with a handkerchief.

I sure hope you're wrong about that Horace, I sure do, said Ray as he watched the small rider disappear in a cloud of dust.

-CKS-

Prescott Brown stepped from his foreman's house on the Foster Ranch and headed towards the main house. Samantha Foster was just walking out on to the wrap around porch with Rose, her maid, among other things, in tow. When they saw a rider coming through the front gate. Eyeing Prescott walking across the yard she called out, Who's that coming, Prescott?

That's Cory, I wonder what he's doing home so early, answered Prescott.

Samantha and Rose walked out to join Prescott when Cory rode in. Don't you have other things to be doing? asked Samantha. Rose did not answer but just continued out to see what was wrong with Cory. She had a very protective heart towards the small boy.

Boy, what're ya doin' home? Did school let out early? asked Prescott.

I got into a fight with Tommy Cooper, again. Miss Amos was gonna make me stay after and I had chores at home to do, so I left, explained Cory.

Son, ya gotta stop fightin' at school. A man needs an education if he wants to make it in this world, started Prescott.

Don't listen to him, Cory, said Samantha stepping in front of Prescott. I got all the money and land you'll ever need or want. I can give you an education no school would ever be able to teach you, said Samantha.

Now hold on Miss Foster. I don't mean no disrespect, and I do work for you but Cory's my boy and I'll decide what's best for him, tried Prescott.

Mr. Brown have you check the stock yet today? asked Samantha turning around to face Prescott.

Not personally, I got Rusty out there checking it, answered Prescott.

Well I suggest that you go out there and give Rusty a hand.

But Miss Foster.

"I