Alias: The Cattle King's Son

By Franklin D. Lincoln

the Nowhere Man, known as the outlaw Laredo Kid takes the place of his slain outlaw partner who was the estranged son of a powerful cattle man in Wyoming, As the new heir to a vast empire he becomes embroiled in a fierce range war.. Blackmailed by a corrupt detective and reunion with former outlaw gang member, his secret is threatened to be exposed. Ruthless men and conniving women place him in a vice of conflict; trying to do what is right without revealing himself. This is an action packed tale of the cattle country and the struggles of a young America.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Monogram Press
• Release date: Oct 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370128389

Book preview

ALIAS:

THE CATTLE KING"S

SON

Franklin D. Lincoln

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY:

Franklin D. Lincoln on Smashwords

Alias: The Cattle King’s Son

Copyright © 2017 by Franklin D. Lincoln

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This e book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it 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 to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

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Other Titles by Franklin D. Lincoln

Legend of Wildcat Kitty and the Cyclone Kid

Wildcat Kitty and the Cyclone Kid Ride Again

The Return of Wildcat kitty and the Cyclone Kid

Wildcat Kitty and the Cyclone Kid

Alias: The Hangman from Hell

Trouble Rides a Fast Horse

Monsters and Lollipops

Riders of the Silver Trail

Death Rides the Black Hills

King of the Gun Trail

Other Titles by Franklin D. Lincoln Writing as Chad Cull

The Devil’s Justice

Apache Gunhawk

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For

Lew Cull

Uncle,,Brother, Hero,

And Best Friend

Forever

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Chapter One

Where the hell was Johnny? The kid was always up to something and it usually meant trouble. He should have been there by now. They should have already shaken the dust of this one horse town. The man known as the Laredo Kid, although he was much too old to be a kid; now nearing his mid- thirties, had been waiting for his current riding partner Johnny Royal for nearly half an hour. He stood there, in front of the livery stable, holding the reins of his dun black horse loosely, with his left hand. He reached with his right for the pocket watch from his vest pocket beneath his corduroy brown jacket. He checked the time for the umpteenth time, as if he didn’t already know it. He grimaced. 9:00 a.m.! He squinted up at the rising morning sun as it was just clearing the rooftops of the dumpy little town of Mud Flats. His slate gray eyes darkened with concern and apprehension.

He was pretty sure now that they would not be leaving this hick town without trouble. Johnny had already retrieved his sorrel from the livery before Laredo arrived. He knew his young companion must be up to something and from experience, he knew it wouldn’t be good. Johnny had lost a bundle at the gambling tables at the Lucky Dog Saloon the night before. Without coins jingling in his jeans, Johnny would be on the prod for cash. Johnny was a good-natured cuss and Laredo liked him despite his recklessness and penchant for other-people’s money.

Laredo did not share his buddy’s dishonest traits and the outlaw trail was not to his liking, but due to circumstances that seemed to constantly dog his very existence, he had found himself often in the company of thieves and bad men in general. Somehow, he had become known as the Laredo Kid, and had long since been riding the owlhoot Trail. He had been riding with Pike Grant’s bunch when he met Johnny. Finding it difficult to back out of it, Laredo was reluctantly a part of a bank robbery that went sour in Durango.

The law had gotten word somehow and had been waiting in ambush. The gang, save for the one left behind, dead in the hot dusty street, fled in all directions, with Johnny and Laredo lighting out on a trail of their own.

They had traveled together now for three months and Laredo had tried to steer Johnny from wrong paths and avoid trouble for both of them. A time or two they had tried their hands at honest work, but Johnny was a force to be reckoned with.

Gunshots from the center of town broke the stillness of the crisp early morning air. Laredo knew instinctively that Johnny was mixed up in the gun fire. Johnny had found his trouble once more. Laredo knew this was it. It was time to get out of town and fast. As he swung into the saddle, Johnny’s sorrel came sliding around the corner of the next cross street down the way. Johnny’s overgrown shock of blond hair flew in the breeze behind him, beneath his tied down flat crowned gray hat with a bullet hole in the front right corner of the crown.

We’ve got to get out of here! he yelled as he approached Laredo. I just robbed the bank

Laredo was not surprised, he had guessed as much. Without a word, he spurred his horse and urged him forward. The two riders sped out of town in a cloud of dust.

They pushed their horses hard at a full gallop. Once they passed the town limits, they turned their mounts southward without slowing and continued the pace for another ten minutes. The hard riding was taking its toll on the horses and after a while they let them slow to a trot, then a walk. Finally, they stopped completely, to let the horses blow.

They looked back for signs of a posse, but saw none. It was too soon. It would take time for a posse to be organized, but one thing was certain, it would be formed and on Laredo’s and Johnny’s trail soon.

Don’t say it, Johnny smirked. Laredo’s face was stony and he sat quiet in his saddle. We needed the cash, Johnny added. Besides, nobody got hurt.

I suppose so, Laredo sighed, disgruntled. You just can’t resist getting us into trouble, can you?

Nope, Johnny chuckled. Ain’t it fun? That impish childlike grin was disarming.

Yeah, lots of fun. Laredo said stonily. Real hum dinging, corker, fun. We can laugh all the way to jail and do a jig at the end of a rope.

Oh don’t be like that, Kid. You gotta loosen up. Have fun.

Well then let’s have fun and get the hell away from here, pronto or we’re going to be seeing a whole lot of fun climbing up our tail if we don’t get moving. Laredo kicked his mount into a trot and rode on.

Stuffy old man, Johnny shouted with a grin and followed suit.

For an hour, they kept a steady pace, saving their horses as much as possible. The sun rose to its apex and the day was steaming hot as they rode farther and farther into the badlands, threading their way through the dry country covered with mesquite and manzanita and climbing into the higher elevations covered with rock and shale. Occasionally, they would stop and rest the horses and look back over their trail, always expecting the posse on their heels. The day wore on and by almost mid-afternoon, they spotted a dust cloud on the horizon, about a mile back. Posse!

They turned their mounts sharply to the east and spurred them into a gallop, even though the horses were near played out and needed rest, water and graze. Eventually, they would have to hole up someplace. Laredo remembered a hideout, high up in the hills, just over the border into New Mexico, they had used while riding with Pike Grant. They would head for there and hopefully, lose the posse in the hard rock country.

Two hours later, the dust cloud behind them was no longer just a cloud. The posse had gained on them and was close enough to be seen now. There was, possibly, a dozen men. Johnny’s and Laredo’s horses were blowing hard and lather foamed on their chests and flanks. Their footing was faltering as they climbed the rock slopes; shale sliding beneath their hooves.

We’ll have to lead them on foot, Laredo shouted, leaping to the ground and pulling the reins of his mount, leading him up the incline. Johnny followed his lead, dismounted and led his mount close behind Laredo’s.

It was slow going and from time to time they sent furtive glances behind them and each time seeing the posse approaching closer and closer behind and below them.

Slipping and sliding they continued upward; sweat beading on their dusty faces and their horses neighing and snorting in protest as they fought the sliding rock beneath their hooves and protested against the pull of the reins and sharpness of the bits in their mouths.

Something liked the sound of a bee buzzed past Johnny’s ear. Then he heard the report of a rifle. The slug bounced off the boulder in front of him with an ugly whine. Johnny twisted around, eyes wide. The posse was close now. Rifle range for sure; soon pistol range would be achieved and the two fleeing partners were still struggling up the face of the rocky scree. Johnny pulled his Winchester from the saddle boot, levered a round and still holding the reins, he lifted the weapon, returned fire and then, without looking to see if he had hit anyone, he turned to continue leading his horse. A hail of bullets was the retort from the posse. Dust and rock fragments kicked up around their heels and ricochets pinged off the rocks in front of them.

We’ve got to get out of here! Laredo shouted, now dragging his mount to the top of the rise.

Johnny levered his weapon three more times, spraying lead at the pursuing posse. The posse was directly beneath them now, leaping from their saddles and seeking cover behind the rocks below as Johnny’s bullets whizzed over their heads.

Laredo had finally topped the rise, pulled his horse over the ledge and out of sight. He dropped the reins, pulled his rifle from the boot and ran back toward the rim of the rise. Here he found a large boulder for cover. He pressed his back against it, peered out to see Johnny still struggling up the bank and returning fire as bullets flew around him. He leaned out around the boulder, raised his weapon and bracing it against the rock, he fired rapidly, laying down a field of fire, swinging the barrel methodically from left to right and back again, squeezing off round after round. The posse’s return fire was silenced momentarily as they scrambled like rabbits into their protective holes for cover, allowing Johnny to reach the top of the rise, himself, and take cover behind the boulder next to Laredo. Continued firing sent the posse-men back into their protective holes for cover. Together, the two partners fired relentlessly, until the posse-men started to retreat toward their horses that had skittered away from the excitement. Johnny and Laredo continued firing as the men ran, with no intent of hitting anyone, allowing them the opportunity to catch up their mounts and ride away.

They were still firing, but not as rapidly as they watched the posse disappear into dust along the back trail. The firing slowed and then ceased as the posse continued to disappear over the far horizon.

Laredo half grinned and then grimaced. We’d better get going before they decide to come back. If we can make it across the border first, we can rest there. He turned to his horse, gathered up the reins, swung into the saddle and started down the other side of the rise. Johnny stepped into the stirrups, seated himself, heavily and lit out after his friend.

They rode fast, their horses still laboring with near exhaustion. It wasn’t long after they had crossed the border that Laredo slowed his horse to a walk. He looked back for Johnny and noticed that he had fallen somewhat behind. A second look told him something was wrong. Johnny’s horse was staggering and Johnny sat slumped over in the saddle, a strained look on his face.

Laredo turned his mount and rode back to his companion. The boy’s face was ghastly pale and he clutched desperately to the pommel of his saddle. A large circle of blood soaked his shirt on the right side.

Sorry, Kid, Johnny coughed as Laredo rode close. I guess I caught one.

Laredo sidestepped his pony to Johnny’s side. He felt the wound and knew it was bad.

Hang on Johnny until we get to the hideout. I’ll fix you up. Don’t worry.

Johnny nodded and kneed his mount forward. Sure, Kid. I’ll be fine. I can make it. But, he knew better.

It was dark by the time they found the secluded arroyo in a deep canyon. They were still several miles from the hideout they had used before, but Johnny would never make it that far and this spot was as good as any to hole up for a while. Johnny was doubled over his sorrel’s neck as they rode slowly to a grassy spot hidden by thick brush and cottonwood trees.

Laredo dismounted and eased Johnny from his saddle, catching him in his arms and laying him down on the soft grass. He lifted Johnny’s head and held the canteen to his parched lips. Johnny’s eyes flickered and dulled as his sparkling life drained from him. He coughed as he tried to swallow. His throat was tight and the liquid could hardly pass through. He pushed the canteen away and shook his head. Save it, Kid. You’ll need it. It’s just wasted on me. I’m finished. You know it.

We’re both riding out of here, Johnny.

No. No. I can’t. I want you to promise me something. Will you do it for me.?

Sure, Johnny. Whatever you say.

See that my ma gets my share of the money. Will ya?

You can do that, yourself, Johnny.

No need to kid me, He had a spasm, his breathing labored; then caught his breath and said, Please, promise you’ll do it. Please.

Laredo choked back the gathering lump in his throat and agreed grimly, Sure Johnny.

Take care of her, Johnny gasped one last time, a death rattle in his throat.

Just like you would, Laredo promised as he felt Johnny’s body go limp and the last remaining spark of life expelled. He looked into Johnny’s unseeing eyes for several seconds before he brushed his hand over his eyes and closed them. Just like you would, Johnny," he whispered.

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Chapter Two

Denver, Colorado in 1884 was no longer a dusty trail town, but a sprawling, bustling city, displaying fast encroaching civilization. Frontier lawmen gave way to a uniformed police force and dusty range garb was replaced by suits and ties. Ladies now dressed in the latest of fashion. The man known as the Laredo Kid blended into the crowd, his black frock coat accented his broad shoulders and covered his pistol and holster. A black string tie accented his round boyishly ruddy face and a black, flat crowned hat, tied by a chin strap, sat tilted on the back of his head letting shocks of his light brown hair drape over his broad forehead. His striped pants were tucked into the tops of shiny, black stove pipe boots that elevated his height to average.

He had been here before with Johnny. Johnny, he thought as he meandered through the crowded street; poor kid. Not a bad man really, just young and restless. Sure, he had robbed and looted, but he never killed anyone. Laredo wished he could have said the same about himself. Now Johnny was gone, long before a man should. But, such was the way of outlaw life. Once bought into it, the hand would have to be played out and often it played out just the way it had for Johnny.

He had buried Johnny in that grassy arroyo where he had died, with only two sticks tied together to make a cross as a marker on the spot, no name on the grave. The money from the bank job at Mud Flats was in Johnny’s saddlebags. $7,000. Not much for his life. Also, in his bags, tied together in a bundle with a piece of