The Ghost of Victor Frank (Book Four of the Western Serial Killer Series)

By Rita Hestand

Benny Gates was tired of the taunting and teasing he put up with in the saloon every day. Just because his mother had been a whore here all his life, didn't mean he deserved to be picked on by everyone in town. He hated his mother, it went beyond shame. How many years was she going to go up those stairs with men?

Benny set his mind to it, he was going to rid himself of the old battleax once and for all. He'd teach this town to mock him. He'd show them all. And he devised a plan to do it too. There was only one friend in this whole town that knew that he was planning something but no one would listen to Olle, he was the town drunk. So Benny set his plan into action.

John T. and Antonio just picked a prisoner up and were headed to Austin where he'd stand trial. They had both met Benny in the saloon. Only John T. felt something crawl up his back when he saw Benny's reaction to some ribbing. Benny wasn't all there, John T. knew that right off, and when the kid came gunning for Chocko, John T. saw the resemblance of a man he sure wanted to forget. Could Benny be the Ghost of Victor Frank come back to haunt them all? He hoped he was wrong.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rita Hestand
• Release date: Nov 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781311683151

Rita Hestand

Hi friendsI'd like to ask a favor, not just for me but for all writers. PLease when we offer a free book, it would be wonderful if you'd take the time to rate the book. This doesn't take much time out of your day and authors really apreciate your time to do this. I know not everyone wants to sit down and write a review, but rating the book will help as well. And a big thanks to all who do this. You never know how much an author appreciates you taking the time to do this.I finally finished The Car Stalker. Hope you'll check it out. This is the second book in the stalker series. Like I said mystery is much different from romance all though there are elements in romance in my stalker books too. Today I finished an another book in my series of Vets coming home, Better Every Day. This book takes the angle of when family interrupts your plans. When a one-night stand is much more. I love this story as it hits home. So two new books out now and more coming.I'm taking the time to write while confined at home. But lack of seeing people outside, and living alone all the time is not new to me. I've got lots of stories to tell so be on the lookout for my newest releases. You might check out my Searchin g for You Indian romance on Amazon too.There are several new free books for you enjoyment, since your stuck at home. Home you enjoy them.As for a bio, suffice it to say, I'm a Texan tried and true. I have grown children and grandchildren and already some great-grandchildren. I've done multi jobs in my lifetime giving me a variety of experiences to write and talk about. I've done many different kinds of work from Texas Instruments, to City of Garland, to working for the Wylie Independent School District. I've worked for a hat factory, filing insurance claims, secretarial work, to waitress work. My writing reflects my varied background. Another note I've had a in home day care for twenty years too. So when I write about something I have a general knowledge of it too, which is a real bonus for me. Just like my public work, my writing varies too from contemporary to historical, I write romance, thrillers, children's. A lot of people might say gee, that's a lot of different jobs, and it is, but, I've learned from them all, and I use that experience in my writing.I want to thank all the readers over a length of time that have tried some of my books. I hope I've enlightened and entertained you. I hope I've shared some love in this world. Sharing love can't be bad, it's God given.God bless.Other places to see my bookshttps://www.fantasticfiction.com/h/rita-hestand/https://itunes.apple.com/us/author/rita-hestand/id365799219?mt=11www.scriptsforschools.com/rita-hestandhttps://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/search?query=rita%20hestand&fcsearchfield=author

Book preview

The Ghost of Victor Frank

Rita Hestand

(Book Four of the Western Serial Killer Series)

Copyright© 2017 Rita Hestand

All rights reserved

Book Cover design by:

RockingBookCovers.com/Adrijus

ISBN # 978-1311683151

Other Books in this series:

Better Off Without Her

Good Day for a Hanging

Bad Day for a Killing

The Ghost of Victor Frank

Daughter of Iniquity

License Notes

This book The Ghost of Victor Frank is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. Please purchase an additional copy for each person you share with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Dedication:

Sometimes we all want to start over, especially when we make big mistakes. Starting over isn't as easy as it sounds, but if effort is put into it, it can be rewarding. Second chances can do wonders. Make sure you are one of those wonders.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

About the Author

Rita's Other Books

The Ghost of Victor Frank

1885 Texas

Del Rio

Chapter One

Benny, you left a damn dirty spittoon. If you don't clean them every day, they stink. Now, clean it up. Harry the Bartender yelled as he practically through the spittoon at him from the back door of the saloon.

Okay Harry, Benny grimaced when the contents spilled on his hand. Grinding his teeth until it hurt, Benny shot a scowl toward the doorway where Harry had disappeared. Dirty spittoons, dirty lanterns. That's all he did was clean. What did they think he was, a woman?

The sun beat down on him like an iron skillet, sizzling the earth, only one bird sang his lovely tune, a mocking bird, Benny noticed silently. The streets of Del Rio, Texas were quiet. Unusually so for this time of day.

Benny Gates was unaware of the beautiful day as he sat on the boardwalk right outside the Silver Spur Saloon. He was brooding again, his shoulders slumped making him appear shorter than he really was. With a mop of dirty blonde hair, and clear blue eyes, he might have been handsome if he carried himself better. But he continued to carry the nastiness of the world on his shoulders.

They'd called him a dim-wit this morning, mocking him. Yesterday Johnny Hatfield and Clay Roberts had teased him as he tried to keep the bar and spittoons clean for Harry the bartender. Johnny and Clay were Privates for the army, and they often frequented the bar. And every time they came to town, they gave Benny a hard time. For one thing Benny's clothes were all tattered and torn, and his shoes were worn out and flapped when he walked.

One of these days though…. I'll make them all sit up and take notice of Benny Gates. Benny mumbled out of the side of his mouth.

Benny went inside. Not that he wanted to, but he had work to do. A half-drunk Indian played a wicked piano filling Benny with disgust, he'd heard every tune. Music didn't interest him, neither did drinking. He'd had a lifetime of both. The saloon had been his home all his life, a disgusting home, Benny determined. He hated it. He hated everything now. He hated Johnny and Clay, he hated the army, but most of all…he hated his mother.

He hated saloons too. He hated the people inside them. Saloons were nasty, stinky, and filled with the rotten apples of Del Rio. He wished they were dead. He wished half the town were dead. So many had called him ugly names and poked fun at him for years on end. He'd been known as the bastard child of the town. Every day was the same, it never got better like some told him it would.

He breathed deep and the stench of rot-gut whiskey and long-ago chewed tobacco permeated the air.

He put his hand on the bar he'd cleaned only an hour ago and already, slopped whiskey, dirty hands, dust from cowhand's clothes, and spilled tobacco formed a paste on top of it.

Two saloon girls got up and moved around a poker table. Their hands were everywhere, touching, feeling, making themselves known to the men. Benny grimaced. This was his private hell. He was born to it, and it looked as though he'd die here, unless he done something about it.

The mirror that hung behind the bar was smeared with dust and smoke until no one could truly see much out of it.

I'll show them. I'll fix them good. Benny mumbled.

He sat contemplating how he would even all the scores.

For years, he'd taken ridicule, snide remarks, people laughing at him. And why?

His mother, that was why. His mother had been a saloon girl all her life, and as of late she hobbled about the bar with her thick mask of make-up and drooping white shoulders. The times she'd went up those stairs with ugly, dirty cowboys were too numerous to count. Benny didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to think about her. They made fun of her too. No one knew who Benny's father was, even his mother. Perhaps that was the biggest problem, he was the bastard of some unknown cowboy drifter, and the laughing stock of the town.

With no education, he'd still managed to learn to count with the cards of a gambler. Decent young girls didn't look at him, but they giggled at him behind his back. He didn't understand what was so different about him?

Disgust and anger roiled inside his body, festering like a sore. But this sore never healed. It wouldn't heal until he did something about it, and he had plans to do just that. He'd thought it up some time ago, but soon they would all be sorry how they treated him. Very soon.

Two strangers rode up and hobbled their horses in front of the saloon. Benny stared at them as they came through the swinging doors. They didn't look much different than the cowboys who hung out in the saloon, except they were cleaner, and they were strangers. When Benny was younger, he might have given these two the benefit of the doubt, but not anymore. Anyone who sought out a saloon was the same to Benny.

The one thing Benny did was observe people, filing away the information on each new person he met, to refer to at another time.

He studied these two. One was a Mexican and the other was white. They both wore guns though and looked as though they knew how to use them. Benny squirmed a little. He had them pegged as gunfighters, just the way they walked and carried themselves told him they could handle their firearms.

He eyed them for a long minute, but they paid little attention to him.

He listened as they were greeted by an old friend, Chocko.

Antonio, I have not seen you for years. Where have you been, my friend? Chocko asked his friend. Chocko was a tall Mexican, with a big sombrero and a perfectly manicured mustache. He had slicked back black hair and eyes that could pierce any target. But his smile was genuine and aimed at this Antonio and his companion with interest.

Lots of places my friend. Let me introduce you to John T. he used to be a Texas Ranger.

Used to? Chocko questioned quickly.

Yeah, he's just a Sheriff now, and I'm worse, I'm his deputy. Antonio smiled.

Chocko snickered. I didn't know you could quit the Rangers?

Sort of retired… John T. smiled.

Say, aren't you two the ones that got that crazy fella, Victor Frank? Chocko asked buying a round of beers for his friends.

Antonio bowed his head, and John T. looked away, Yeah, we're the ones. Antonio's voice lowered.

It wasn't so much what he said as how he said it that had Chocko speechless for a moment. Benny paid close attention. The tension in the room mounted for a moment.

Everybody is talkin' about that. He was one mean hombre. Even the Rangers wouldn’t mess with him, I'm told. Said you got him in an Indian camp and nearly wiped out the whole bunch…

Yes, my friend, but we don't talk about it much… Antonio said lowly. It is not a good thing to remember.

Chocko's smile disappeared. Why not. He was one bad hombre, eh? I would think you would brag of such of feat. He was a killer of women, no doubt he deserved to die…

John T. turned his drink up and swallowed it down, slamming the glass on the bar. Antonio leaned on the bar and looked out the door.

Chocko saw their gazes disappear out the swinging doors.

I do not understand, he was a bad hombre, wasn't he? Chocko twisted his head and stared at the two of them.

John T. nodded, Yeah, he was.

Then why so sad…? Chocko hit Antonio on the back and laughed.

Antonio gripped his beer tightly. It was like killing a mad dog, Chocko. There is no honor in killing a mad dog, you are simply putting him out of his misery. Antonio explained. That's what we did, put him out of his misery.

Si…. I understand that. Chocko nodded to the bartender for a refill. So, what are you doin' here? Chocko quickly changed the subject when he saw they were both withdrawn from this conversation.

John T. stood up straight now, We're here to pick up a prisoner.

Sorrels? Chocko cocked his head at him.

That's the one. Antonio nodded.

He has a big mouth, and a fast gun, but he is trash. Chocko said with disgust. He says he accidentally killed the woman who ran out of the bank, while he was robbing it.

Was it an accident? Antonio questioned.

There were no eye witnesses. She was the only one in the bank accept the teller at the time. No one knows, but…he shot her in the back…

Antonio pushed his hat back from his head. Didn't the teller see it?

Nope, they killed him too.

Why do we always end up with the no-accounts? Antonio sighed.

John T. snickered. Just lucky I guess…

Too bad they can't hang him here? Antonio said.

And, why can't we? Chocko laughed.

He's wanted on a previous charge over in Austin, seems he killed a politician up there during another robbery. John T. informed him.

So, you are from Austin?

Antonio shook his head, No Chocko, but since we are so famous for killing Victor Frank, they sent us to pick up this Sorrels. It seems they consider him a very dangerous hombre.

You will ruin their plans then… Chocko pointed to a table of men who seemed bent on getting drunk.

Who are they? Antonio looked toward the table with interest.

Friends and family of the lady he killed. They won't happy about you leaving town with him now.

John T. and Antonio glanced at each other. That's too bad. John T. shot the men at the table a quick glance.

Antonio glanced around the bar. So, what do you do now, Chocko?

I work for Don Pedro, on his ranch. I am foreman there.

Foreman, well, you are moving up in the world.

Chocko smiled a brilliant smile, Si…

What are you doin' in town then?

Don Pedro is making arrangements with the buyers, we will soon move the herd north to the railroad. Chocko said.

I guess he's got a pretty big spread now. Antonio thought about it.

Si, very big. Thanks to God we do not have to take them to Kansas any longer. Chocko said.

Yeah, I guess the days of the big cattle drives are over now. John T. added.

Yeah, Chocko nodded. You know, I kind of miss it. Sleeping out under the stars, listening to the cattle low at night. It was peaceful.

Yeah but how about the storms, the rain, the up all night with a stampede? Bet you don't miss that do ya? John T. smiled.

No senor, I do not miss that… Chocko laughed.

Benny came strolling around them, he shot Chocko a quick glance then went to tie his apron on and sweep the floor. He kept his head down and seemed bent on not looking at anyone.

All the time they talked, he swept, but John T. noticed how Benny kept getting closer and seemed to be listening to every word.

When John T. caught Benny staring, Benny moved away quickly.

Who's that? John T. asked.

Chocko shot Benny a quick glance, Aw…that is Benny, he's a little short on brains, but he's harmless. He keeps this place clean. He's sort of belligerent, as they say.

John T. glanced again at the young man.

He doesn't look like he likes you Chocko. Antonio observed.

Benny edged up to them. What does belligerent mean?

Chocko laughed and shook his head. Never mind Benny.

No…you called me belligerent…what does that mean?

Means you got a bad attitude. Chocko narrowed his focus on the young man. Now go back to your work, Benny. This doesn't concern you.

I don't like bein' called names. Every day I take it, from the men from Camp Hudson, and Ft. Clark. Well, I'm tired of taking it. Take it back, Chocko. Benny yelled.

Settle down pardner, he meant no harm. Antonio got between them.

Benny bristled. Stay out of this mister…

You're taking offense awfully easy kid. John T. studied him carefully.

I'm gonna get a gun and shoot you Chocko. I'm gonna shoot you dead. You hear me? Benny hollered and ran out the door.

Chocko turned back to the bar, swallowed another whiskey and eyeballed his friends. That is one strange kid. He's never happy. Never knows a joke when he hears one. He's gonna get himself killed one of these days. He's got so much hate stored up, Lord help us if it ever comes out.

Does he always threaten to shoot people? John T. asked, still watching the swinging door.

No, but he's all talk. Chocko laughed. Benny doesn't like anyone.

I can believe that? John T. said, his eyes darting around the room.

Chocko shrugged seeming uncomfortable talking about the kid. Perhaps we should talk of him another time…

John T. nodded, Well, we've had our drink, we better get on over to the jail. We got a long ride ahead of us.

Antonio paid for the last drink and nodded. Good seein' you again, Chocko, take care.

Adios my friends. Chocko tipped his hat to them.

But just as they would have walked outside, Benny came charging in with a six-shooter in his hand and aimed it at Chocko.

John T. reacted as he always did.

I'm gonna kill you dead, Chocko… Benny raised his gun.

John T. shot the gun out his hand and walked toward the kid who was stumbling to the floor and blabbering about his bleeding hand.

You shot me! You shot me! Benny cried in stunned confusion.

Better be glad he didn't kill you. Antonio glanced down at the flustered kid.

He shot my gun hand…. Benny shouted. Aren't you gonna do something about it?

Nope! Chocko bent over him.

John T. stared down at the kid and shook his head. I shot your gun hand on purpose kid. It will be awhile before that heals up, and you probably won't be handling a gun with it again. Mabye that will keep you out of trouble. At least I hope it will.

I'll come after you! I swear it! I'll kill you, mister.

John T. turned to look over his shoulder as he headed out the door. You can try, kid, but I wouldn't advice it.

Chocko nodded to his friends.

As John T. and Antonio walked out of the saloon, John T. glanced back at Chocko and waved. But John T. got another glance at Benny too and something unnerved him about the kid. Just like it had Chocko.

Something wrong my friend? Antonio asked as they strode toward the jail.

That Benny…does he remind you of anyone?

Antonio glanced back over his shoulder and saw Benny staring out the swinging doors at them. He's just a kid.

A kid with a real chip on his shoulder. You wouldn't think a kid would be like that, would you? I'm thinking that Benny and Victor Frank might have had a few things in common…

Antonio looked again, but Benny had disappeared.

He probably went to see a doctor, John T. surmised quickly.

Antonio studied his friend. There will never be another Victor Frank!

The way he said that had John T. staring at him.

Don't be so sure, Antonio. The kid hasn't been physically abused, but he sure is nursing a grudge or two. I wouldn't be surprised to find him on our trail. Like Chocko said, he's a little short of brains.

With a bad gun hand? Antonio frowned.

He's got a different kind of problem Antonio, he's been emotionally battered, just as bad as someone whipping you all the time. After a while it festers like a sore and he's picking at the sore right now. We haven't seen the last of that kid…mark my words.

Antonio made the sign of the cross, Madre mia, not another….

John T. shrugged. I could be wrong, but I got a gut feeling…

Shrugging away the eerie feelings, they sauntered over to the jail to meet the Sheriff, Sam Jones.

The office was musty smelling. Worn sets of guns were hanging on the wall just inside the door. Several cells were filled.

The Sheriff, a tall lean man of about fifty stood up and regarded them with curious intent as they introduced themselves.

I heard about you boys. Got that Frank guy, didn't you? Sam spit in the spittoon by his desk.

Yeah, seems everyone has heard about that. Antonio muttered noting the Sheriff's dead accuracy in the spittoon.

Well, it's big news boys. He was a tough one. No one wanted to go after him. And I can't say as I blame them. You fellas here to pick up Charlie Sorrels, aren't you?

Yeah. Got official papers from the governor for you. John T. answered as he took a chair in front of the Sheriff's desk and handed him the papers. Hear he shot a woman during a bank hold up?

Sure did, killed her, shot her in the back, and he killed the teller too. The Sheriff nodded.

Did you get the others?

Killed one, and the others got away.

No witnesses?

Nope…but that won't stop a hanging party that I figure will happen this afternoon after a few of the boys get liquored up. The Sheriff said as he glanced at the cell. They been nursin' a real grudge over at the saloon all mornin'. Nothin' worse than a bunch of drunks wantin' to hang someone. Even if he does deserve it.

The Sheriff looked over their papers and laid it down on his desk.

Sorrels was sleeping, they all noticed.

Then I guess we better wake him up and get going. Don't want you to have to worry over a mob. John T. said glancing at the cell once more.

Better keep the cuffs on him, he's a mean one. The Sheriff said as he went to get the prisoner.

Sorrels moved on the bunk when the keys rattled to the cell, then he peered over his shoulder. What's goin' on, Sheriff?

You're leaving Sorrels.

What? Why? Sorrels stood up, and John T. and Antonio saw that Sorrels looked well over six foot, with long dark shaggy hair and mean black eyes.

You want a fair trial? The Sheriff asked him.

Sure, I do…

Then you'll go with them.

Who the hell are they?

They are lawmen, that's all you need to know, now let's move. You better get your butt out of here if you want to live Sorrels. That lady you shot in the back, she had lots of friends and family here. They are out to hang you. So, we're getting rid of you now.

You'd let them hang me Sheriff? Sorrels asked.

I ain't got but one deputy, and he was injured in the robbery. How long you think I could hold out, alone? The Sheriff asked him.

What makes you think those two can handle it?

Well for one they were sent by the governor himself. One of them was a Texas Ranger, the other one killed Victor Frank. I think they can handle you Sorrels. The Sheriff cackled.

Victor Frank? That maniac?

Yeah.

Sorrels looked John T. and Antonio over good, then as they led the way to the horses, he walked between them. He had a scowl on his face, but John T. gave him the benefit of the doubt, since they woke him from a deep sleep.

Thanks boys, and good luck. Jones called to them.

John T. nodded, Antonio tipped his hat.

It would be a long ride to Austin. They were sitting on the outskirts of Del Rio, Texas, a small southwestern town.

Say, I thought they called this San Felipe del Rio? John T. squinted in the morning sun that kept hiding behind a big dark cloud.

They did until we got a post office, they shortened it to Del Rio so there'd be no misunderstanding about San Felipe de Austin.

A post office huh?

The military needed it. Jones laughed.

John T. and Antonio smiled at each other and nodded to the Sheriff.

You give us no trouble on this trip and we'll put it in our report. John T. told Sorrels once he was sure he was in his saddle alright. He'd handcuffed him, so he could hold the reins, but Antonio had to help him get up in the saddle.

"And what