Lone Star Justice: A Sense of Duty

By Eugene Moser

The book titled Lone Star Justice is a fictional account of the main character, Sam Waters. In the second half of the book, he teams up with Jim Vogt, who is the hero of the book titled Six Gun Justice. Tragedy strikes Sam as a young lad. His sense of duty leads him to become a Texas Ranger. His job requires him to track down a notorious outlaw in the region. Jack Martin leads a gang of outlaws, who wreak havoc against all who come in contact with them. Sam meets up with his blood brother, White Eagle, who has discovered the gangs hideout. They go in separate directions to get help in their efforts to destroy the gang. They rejoin forces and attack the compound. The gang is virtually destroyed, but Martin manages to escape. He flees the area and arrives in Cranston Valley. There he joins forces with an evil rancher and they attempt to take over complete control. Sam follows his trail in an attempt to bring him to justice. Meanwhile the Governor has sent Jim Vogt to the valley to help quell the disturbance. Sam and Jim unite and manage to galvanize the citizens of the valley. They eventually put an end to the terror in the valley. Martin meets Sam in a show down, and the ranger emerges victorious. Jim returns to his ranch and Sam returns to Fielders Crossing, until duty calls again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 8, 2008
• ISBN: 9781467839327

Eugene Moser

No formal training in writing. However, this is the second book published. The first book titled “Six Gun Justice”, subtitled: “Vogts Vengeance” was published by AuthorHouse in June 2006.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The shimmering sun peaked it’s head over the grey horizon and through the black ominous clouds. It had rained hard the previous day, and the cloud cover had not yet been entirely dispersed. The ensuing deluge had erased the trail he had been following. Sam stretched his tall angular body and peered at the cloudy sky. He knew from his past experiences in this part of the country, the clouds would thin out, and the temperature would rise, and the heat would become oppressive. He gulped down the last of his tepid black coffee and doused the camp fire with the remaining dregs from his coffee pot. He scattered dirt over the dying embers of the fire to make sure it was out. He gathered his equipment and sauntered over to his horse ‘Betsy’. He talked soothingly to her as he draped the faded blue saddle blanket over her back. He grasped the worn saddle horn with his left hand and swung the saddle onto her back. He cinched the belts of the saddle and then cut the tether from her front forelegs. He used the tether to hobble his horse at night. It was a precaution he always took when traveling. He had once been left on foot, when one of his previous mounts had been startled by a wild animal during the night. The horse had run off and caused him to walk twenty miles with all his equipment until he reached a town. From that day forward he made it a habit to hobble his horse when on the trail. This horse, Betsy was four years old, light brown in color and she had white fetlocks and a blaze on her nose. She stood more than sixteen hands high. She was built for stamina, more so than for speed. Sam appreciated those attributes in her. He was a big man himself and desired that his horse would be able to carry him over the long haul. Sam placed his dirty boot in the stirrup and swung his right leg over the back of his horse with ease. Sam Waters was more than six feet three inches tall. He weighed two hundred and fifteen pounds. His hair was brown and wavy. He sported a straggly moustache and beard. He scratched his whiskered chin and mused to himself, that when he reached the next town, he would shave them both off. He had gone unshaven these past several weeks. He was on the trail of two dangerous men, who were wanted by the law. The downpour of the previous day would make his task harder to complete. But, complete it he would. His nature and temperament would not allow him to quit a task. He would persevere til the end.

He nudged his horse with his knees and Betsy responded by moving in a steady lope westward. Because the rain had wiped out the tracks of his quarry, he figured to keep headingwesterly and hoped to be able to pick up the trail along the way. If not, he would continue in this direction until he reached the next town. There he would ask questions and maybe pick up a lead as to the whereabouts of his prey.

He had misgivings about the career he had undertaken. He was constantly traveling and was alone for the most part. These moments of doubt cropped up periodically. But , he managed to shake them off. When he remembered his promise he made to himself and his father years ago. As he traveled along the muddy trail, his thoughts wandered back to the past. What had caused him to do what he was doing for a living? There were several reasons that persuaded him to follow this course of action. The first and most important reason, was his father, who had been a lawman in a small Kansas town. Back then Sam had a close relationship with his father and wanted to be just like him. Sam was sixteen years old at the time, when he saw his father gunned down. John Waters was the lawman in the small town of Dry Gulch. He was a shade less than six feet and weighed one hundred and eighty pounds. He had been well liked by the townspeople. He completed his duties in a fair manner. The town had been fairly peaceful up until that fateful day. He was shot in the back by a rotten scoundrel and his cohorts. They had come to town and were attempting to ride roughshod over the citizens. His father had stepped forward to face the leader. The leader was a known outlaw in the surrounding area. Hank Jones was a mean vicious scumbag who liked to make people cower before him.Hank was of average height and weight and had a nasty disposition. Hank was sitting on his horse and shooting his gun at the windows of the town’s stores. John Waters approached him with caution. Unbeknownst to him one of the gang members came up behind John. The outlaw proceeded to shoot John in the back. Sam had witnessed the whole thing from the sheriff’s office. He raced to the door and had tried to warn his father. But he had been too late. Sam was sixteen years of age, and had been taught by his father how to handle a gun and rifle for several years. He had practiced every chance he could. When he saw his father fall in the street, he grabbed a Winchester from the wall rack and raced into the street. He took aim at the man who had killed his father and fired. The rifle butt jolted against his shoulder from the recoil. The man spun around as the bullet pierced his chest. He tumbled to the ground, as blood oozed from the wound, and made a puddle under the lifeless body of the outlaw. There were three other members of the outlaw gang and they were surprised by the actions of the young lad.

Events unfolded like a blur in time. Some innate factor emerged in Sam and he reacted swiftly to the events as they unfolded. His father’s advice over the years had sunk into his mind. For one so young in years, he had the instincts of a lawman. His father’s teachings had been listened to intently and his reactions now seemed like second nature. Sam swung his rifle toward the leader who sat atop his horse. He quickly raised the rifle and fired. The outlaw toppled backwards off his horse and thudded to the ground. His body lay in a dead heap with a bullet hole through his forehead. He had died instantly. The remaining two outlaws panicked and fled town as fast as their horses could carry them. From that day forward Sam had made up his mind to follow in his father’s footsteps. He vowed on his father’s grave to uphold the law serve justice. He promised himself that he would make his father proud of him.

He had lost his mother at an early age to sickness.She had contracted a fever in the winter and was unable to recover. He was only four years old when she passed away. His recollection of her was scant, but he still felt her love in his heart. The small memories he had of her were mainly, when she was cooking and baking. His favorite dessert was apple pie. He often remembered her standing by the fireplace in her gingham gown and apron. But as time wore on, his thoughts of her became less and less. He and his father had been close ever since her passing away. They had traveled around the country for a few years. John Waters then found a job he was good at and became the sheriff of Dry Gulch.A small tear trickled down Sam’s cheek. As he pondered over the past, he subconsciously raised his hand over his chest and touched the badge pinned there. It was the badge of a Texas Ranger.

After the death of his father, Sam left Dry Gulch. His memories of that day would not allow him to remain there. Sam traipsed all over the western part of the country. He searched for a place where he could settle down and make an honest living. His wandering and inability to remain in one place caused him to be in a constant state of flux. He knew he wanted to become a law enforcement officer, but his state of mind would not allow him to stay put in one place. Five years after the death of his father, he met a man who was working for the Texas Rangers. He discovered that he could achieve his goal of being a lawman and still be traversing all over the country. The Rangers were assigned a section of territory, which in his case covered approximately a thousand square miles. There were few men who could cover such a large area. The men had to supply their own horses, weapons and ammunition. They were paid a monthly rate and a meal allowance. The pay was poor. The men communicated with head office, when they reached a town which had a telegraph office and received their assignments through that medium. They were responsible for keeping the law in their assigned area. On occasion they would receive help from a fellow officer, if it could not be handled by one person. However, that was a rarity. This method of working alone and covering a vast area was to Sam’s liking. He joined the Rangers and was assigned to the northwest section of Texas. He had reached his eighth year anniversary with the Rangers last month. He had purchased horses in the past, which were built for speed. During the first couple of years that he was a ranger, he used up the horses every two years. This was to become a great expense to himself, as he had to supply his own mounts. He finally switched over to a horse with more endurance than speed. The vastness of his territory made it a necessary requirement for his mounts. This way he could cover the ground albeit took longer to do so.

The two men he was chasing had robbed a bank in Marysville. They also killed several townspeople during the holdup. Sam had been twenty miles from the town, when the crime took place. The town was on his regular route and someone from the town had ridden out to meet him with the news. He had picked up the trail and was tracking them, when the rains had come down the day before and wiped out their trail. He would continue with his steady and plodding ways. He was sure he would eventually pick up the trail and bring them to justice. Over the last eight years he had never failed to complete an assignment. He had the men’s descriptions and he knew who they were. It was only a matter of time until he caught up with them. The sun’s rays began to beat down on Sam. He removed his hat and wiped his brow. He replaced his tattered hat on his head and spurred his horse forward. There was that ‘Waters’ determination in his demeanor that urged him to complete his task. There was no way he was going to stop searching for the killers.Time and time again, Sam had come up against what seemed like insurmountable odds. But, he knew that if he persisted, he would eventually fulfill his duties.

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CHAPTER TWO

The two outlaws, caked with mud, rode up the rutted trail. They had ridden hard and the dust had engulfed them, so that they appeared as grey ghosts. They were a swarthy looking pair. They had slowed their pace to a more leisurely gait, believing that they had lost any posse, that was after them. Their demeanor was such, that they no longer checked over their shoulders, as they had done in the previous days. It had been several days since they had noticed anyone following them. They had doubled back and changed courses repeatedly in order to shake off any posse that might be tailing them. They had not spotted anyone trailing them and had eased up on their diligence. The rain of the previous day would have washed out any signs of their tracks. Their mood was more relaxed and their alertness was at a very low pitch. These were the two men who had robbed the bank in Marysville and were now on their way to the gang’s hideout in the mountains.

Charles Horn and Nat Beckett traveled down the trail. They came to a fork in the road and veered off on the right hand path, with the intentions of heading to the town of Splinter. Horn was in his middle thirties, slightly less than six feet tall and weighing in at one hundred and seventy pounds. He had dirty brown hair that he wore shoulder length. He had a full beard that was matted and unkempt. The beard was stained with tobacco juice. He pulled his hat down over his face to keep the sun out of his eyes. His clothes were dirty and filthy from weeks on the trail. He seemed to be in a constant state of filth. Maybe it was the years of being on the lam. Or maybe he had grown used to the grime and grunginess. He had been fleeing for days without a chance to rest. His horse was brown in color with white stockings and was in a broken down state. He had ridden her hard the past days in order to make his get away. He had not been one to take proper care of his mounts properly. When his previous horses became too worn out, he would simply leave them and proceed to steal another. His childhood experiences had formed his disposition by molding him into a unsavory character. His father had beat him repeatedly while he was growing up. His mother was unable or unwilling to intervene and also received beatings. When she did try to stop the father she was beaten.He had taken the abuse until he turned thirteen years of age. He had grown as tall as his father and the years of resentment caused him to finally retaliate. One day his father had come home in a drunken state and was attacking his mother. Charlie Horn could take it no longer. He grabbed his father’s gun and shot him over and over again, until the gun was empty. He buried him out in the woods and then afraid of what the law might do, he ran away. He could not out run his