Death Is Waiting In Sonora

By Alfred Bekker

DEATH IS WAITING IN SONORA

By Alfred Bekker

The volume of this book corresponds to 40 pocket pages.

The American West in the years after the Civil War: Jeff Kane has fled from the law by crossing the border to Mexico and meets men unwilling to accept that the war is over. Men celebrating the assassination of President Lincoln and preparing for a resumption of the fight ...

Cover: Edward Martin

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cassiopeiapress/Alfredbooks
• Release date: Sep 4, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386772309

Alfred Bekker

Alfred Bekker wurde am 27.9.1964 in Borghorst (heute Steinfurt) geboren und wuchs in den münsterländischen Gemeinden Ladbergen und Lengerich auf. 1984 machte er Abitur, leistete danach Zivildienst auf der Pflegestation eines Altenheims und studierte an der Universität Osnabrück für das Lehramt an Grund- und Hauptschulen. Insgesamt 13 Jahre war er danach im Schuldienst tätig, bevor er sich ausschließlich der Schriftstellerei widmete. Schon als Student veröffentlichte Bekker zahlreiche Romane und Kurzgeschichten. Er war Mitautor zugkräftiger Romanserien wie Kommissar X, Jerry Cotton, Rhen Dhark, Bad Earth und Sternenfaust und schrieb eine Reihe von Kriminalromanen. Angeregt durch seine Tätigkeit als Lehrer wandte er sich schließlich auch dem Kinder- und Jugendbuch zu, wo er Buchserien wie 'Tatort Mittelalter', 'Da Vincis Fälle', 'Elbenkinder' und 'Die wilden Orks' entwickelte. Seine Fantasy-Romane um 'Das Reich der Elben', die 'DrachenErde-Saga' und die 'Gorian'-Trilogie machten ihn einem großen Publikum bekannt. Darüber hinaus schreibt er weiterhin Krimis und gemeinsam mit seiner Frau unter dem Pseudonym Conny Walden historische Romane. Einige Gruselromane für Teenager verfasste er unter dem Namen John Devlin. Für Krimis verwendete er auch das Pseudonym Neal Chadwick. Seine Romane erschienen u.a. bei Blanvalet, BVK, Goldmann, Lyx, Schneiderbuch, Arena, dtv, Ueberreuter und Bastei Lübbe und wurden in zahlreiche Sprachen übersetzt.

Book preview

Death Is Waiting In Sonora

Alfred Bekker

Published by Cassiopeiapress/Alfredbooks, 2019.

Table of Contents

Title Page

DEATH IS WAITING IN SONORA

Copyright

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

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Further Reading: Jeff Kane - The Outlaw

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About the Publisher

DEATH IS WAITING IN SONORA

By Alfred Bekker

The volume of this book corresponds to 40 pocket pages.

The American West in the years after the Civil War: Jeff Kane has fled from the law by crossing the border to Mexico and meets men unwilling to accept that the war is over. Men celebrating the assassination of President Lincoln and preparing for a resumption of the fight ...

Cover: Edward Martin

Copyright

Ein CassiopeiaPress Buch: CASSIOPEIAPRESS, UKSAK E-Books und BEKKERpublishing sind Imprints von Alfred Bekker.

© by Author

© dieser Ausgabe 2018 by AlfredBekker/CassiopeiaPress, Lengerich/Westfalen in Arrangement mit der Edition Bärenklau, herausgegeben von Jörg Martin Munsonius.

Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

www.AlfredBekker.de

[e-mail]

1

Jeff Kane had covered a day long ride when he reached Magdalena, a small town in the Mexican province of Sonora. The man, also known as 'Laredo Kid' since his time as a postman between San Antonio and Laredo, reined in his horse on a nearby hill in front of the city and let his eye travel. The few houses of Magdalena looked like they were thrown in the rugged, barren land that looked like an ember. A land that God had to have created in anger.

Kane rode along Main Street, which called itself Calle de los Santos – the street of saints. May the devil know why it bore that name. There had to be a reason. Perhaps the answer was to be found in the cemetery where Kane had passed. Many of the graves bore no names and even more bore names that sounded American.

Otherwise, the city consisted only of a snow-white church, a few houses of sandstone or clay and some bodegas, where the vaqueros of the area drank their tequila.

At the end of the Calle de los Santos was the largest of these bodegas. An ugly wooden construction whose facade color had to be faded decades ago.

Jeff Kane reined in his horse, dismounted and tied the animal up at the hitchrack in front of the bodega. Then he knocked the dust off his clothes. A week-long ride through dry, desert-like areas made the sand crawl everywhere and it was no doubt time he take a bath.

In Laredo he had escaped his pursuers, who had falsely accused him of murder. Since then, he had kept on the Mexican side of the border and had also avoided towns.

From the bodega was heard quarrelsome babble.

Kane let the swing doors fly apart and entered.

Inside there was a pleasant semi-darkness.

The bodegero was a short stocky man with dark eyes and a bushy mustache. He stared at Kane like a ghost. The five men in the bodega turned and fell silent. They had spoken English. Obviously, they were Americans. Kane noticed immediately that they were excellently armed. They were wearing deeply strapped revolver belts and Bowie knives. Their clothes were tattered. Some worn-out Drillich trousers, which used to come from the Confederate Army's former holdings, linen shirts. One of the guys wore a full-length Saddle Coat. Between his teeth was a cigarillo. The pants had been through best times already, but the revolver belt and the boots were of such fine workmanship that you could get the idea that they both had not belonged to him for so long.

Another had a dark beard that nearly grew beneath his eyes and a gray Confederate cap with the badges removed. Their outlines were clearly visible as the cloth underneath was less bleached by the sun.

Kane went to the bar.

He wore two revolver straps around his hips – the second one so that the Colt handle protruded forward. The man in the Southern cap stared there the whole time. He himself wore a scuffed holster with a long-drawn navy colt in it. His hand gripped the handle of the long Bowie knife.

Kane turned to the bodegero.

Can I get a bath and a room for the night? he asked.

Well, senor ..., said the Bodegero. Kane did notice that he had looked first at a man sitting at one of the tables. He wore a suit and a bow around his shirt collar. Around the hips hung an army holster with the flap removed, so the colt could be pulled right away. His face was carved in stone. The lines were hard and the look out of his steel-blue eyes penetrating. Only after he nodded, the Bodegero gave his consent. No problem, senor. If you pay in advance.

Kane put a few coins on the table.

That will last for one night. If you like tortillas, there's even a meal included.

Thank you. Do you have whiskey? My throat is dry.

Only tequila, senor!

For my part ...

The Bodegero poured out and Kane emptied the glass in one gulp.

The man in the saddle coat pointed to Kane's weapons.

You are well equipped, Mister – two Colts! It certainly has its advantages if you have two irons in your belt. Especially if one of the primers blocks in the revolving breech.

I'll sell one of them if you're interested! Kane said. I need some money. Interested?

For sure.

One hundred American dollars – no pesos.

Let me see, mister.

Kane unbuckled the second strap, put it rolled in onto the counter, and slid it over to the guy in the saddle coat.

The guy in the Southern cap spat and pointed at the Saddle Coat man. Better don’t do any business with him.

Why? Kane asked.

"Because he does not have a hundred dollars – just enough pesos to