The Outlaw's Son

By Pat Garrett Jr

Branded as an outlaw's son, Dulane fights to save his family name from dishonor and vindication!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wildwest Press Co
• Release date: Apr 24, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386877097

Book preview

CHAPTER I

Enemy Country

AT SUNSET, Jim Dulane stood beside the watering trough in Vistaville letting his tired pony drink. With fists planted on his hips, and shoulders hunched, he looked half asleep. In reality he was  alert, on guard. He was in enemy country. Here no welcoming hand would be extended to him, though he had been born in this little Arizona cow-town and his family name was well known! Too well known! To men of this range the name of Dulane was as a red rag to a belligerent bull.

Jim Dulane had expected to find a sleepy little cow-town. Instead he had found a scene of bustling activity. Men were hurrying along the street. Cow ponies lined the hitch-rails. The cattle loading pens down by the railroad spur were choked with bawling steers. The San Juan Rancho was shipping a beef herd.

When his pony had finished drinking, Jim Dulane remained afoot and led him the short distance to the public stable. He swung along with an easy stride—a lean, tall, athletic hombre of twenty-five, whose pony, garb, and gear indicated considerable cowboy prosperity.

His general appearance was that of a jovial, devil-may-care young range rider, except for his face. That did not blend in with the rest of him. The eyes were not twinkling merrily at life, and the lips did not smile. His countenance was set with the rigidity of determination.

Ben Lenwright, the stable owner, was sitting out in front with old Ed Shaw, the town’s professional loafer. Jim Dulane stopped in front of them, and Lenwright got up.

I want you to stable my pony and take good care of him, Jim Dulane said. Take care of my blanket-roll, too.

Sure, Lenwright answered, as they went inside with the pony. Your face seems familiar to me, stranger. Have I ever seen you before?

Mebbe when I was a baby. Yuh probably knew my father. Folks say I favor him a lot. He was called ‘Fox’ Dulane. 

Jim Dulane eyed the stableman as he spoke. He seemed to expect a reply be would be forced to resent.

Lenwright gulped. Fox Dulane? Oh, yeah! I knew him before—

Before he took to the hills, with my uncle, and turned outlaw? Jim Dulane asked, as the other man hesitated. That happened when I was a baby, right after my mother died. They sent me to my mother’s sister, and she raised me.

And here you are back in Vistaville.

Yeah, here I am, Jim Dulane agreed laconically.

***

LENWRIGHT spat tobacco juice into the straw and squinted.

If you’ve come for the reason I think, lad, mebbe you’ve picked a bad time, he said. The San Juan outfit is in town shippin’, and Sam Warren, the San Juan’s boss, is here with his men.

I’m glad to learn that. I aim to to meet up with Sam Warren as soon as possible.

Listening outside the stable door, Ed Shaw heard this conversation. Without waiting to hear more, he scurried off down the street to the saloon. He had news to impart, and it should be worth a few free drinks.

The son of Fox Dulane was in town and looking for