Revenge in Twin Valleys: 1St in Trilogy

By Odell Sexton

They can run and hide but can never escape the rath of a woman and a man together out to seek revenge. The combination of Ann and Jeff's skills make them the perfect killing machine, it was kill or be killed. There would be no mercy on either side. Along the way, they rescued 11 beautiful young women who were brought into the valley as sex slaves for the Black Widow's gang of killers and outlaws. The women also wanted revenge. In this secret valley, the two teach the women how to kill their enemy. When it was time to come out and kill they were dressed all in black. They didn't have to worry about killing innocent people since there were none in the valley. Come hell or high water, all would have their revenge.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 17, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456758493

Odell Sexton

Odell Sexton was born and raised in the coal mine camps in Tennessee. He joined the Army after just turning 17 by lying about his age. In WWII he served with the 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions and survived Anzio and Bastogne. Odell was a steeplejack for 40 years and because of the danger of his job he could only be insured by Lloyd's of London. Now retired, he lives in the mountains in Tennesse.

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© 2011 Odell Sexton. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 3/22/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4567-5850-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-5849-3 (e)

Printed in the United States of America

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Revenge in Twin Valleys

By

Odell Sexton

They can run and hide but they can’t escape the wrath of a woman and a man who thought the other was dead, together they made the perfect killing machine, it was kill or be killed, there would be no mercy on either side.

Along the way they rescued eleven beautiful young women who were brought into the valley as sex slaves for the Black Widows gang of killers and out laws, they also wanted their revenge.

In their little secret valley the two teach the women the many ways to kill their enemy, when it was time to come out and kill they came out at night dressed in black. They didn’t have to worry about killing innocent people since there were none in the valley.

Come hell or high water they would have their revenge.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 7 The Discovery

Chapter 8 A Trail to the Top

Chapter 9 Freedom

Chapter 10 A Visit to the Top

Chapter 11 Getting the Cannon

Chapter 12 On the Top

Chapter 13 Seduced

Chapter 14 Down the Mountain

Chapter 15

Chapter 16 The Ambush

Chapter 17 Pam’s Old Friend

Chapter 18 The Black Widow

Chapter 19 The Final Showdown

Chapter 1

Behind you, I shouted. It was too late to shoot old Twitchy in the head, so I drew and shot at the knife in flight and I missed it; I heard the knife hit, then I heard two shots from about floor level.

I looked, expecting to see the knife sticking out of Genes back, but it wasn’t. It was sticking out of the Gamblers chest, and for once he wasn’t smiling. He had an expression on his face as if to say, this can’t be happening to me. Gene was lying on the floor facing old Twitchy, with both guns smoking, and I looked that way and old Twitchy had made his last twitch. There was a little red spot in the middle of his chest and another one in the center of his forehead, and he hadn’t started to fall.

I started to turn to cover the rest of the room and Genes left handgun swung around and barked its message of death right at my head. I thought to myself, that is what you get for sticking your nose in other peoples business. I expected to be standing there with a hole in the middle of my forehead. I heard the bullet whistle past my ear. Ha! You missed you little bastard, and damned if he wasn’t smiling for the first time. Then I heard a thud on the bar behind me.

I am getting a little ahead of myself, for all of this started about three hours ago.

I was standing with my back to the bar, watching everything that was going on in the room. The one woman stage show had ended about an hour ago and she had rushed off the stage and disappeared somewhere.

There was a card game going on, on the other side of the room and some men were standing around watching it.

The outside door opened and a man came into the room; he took a quick step to the right to get his back to the wall. I thought to myself, that is one wary man. He just stood there looking the room over. He was damn near too good looking for a man. He was about six one with his cowboy boots on. They were the usual cowboy boots, but there were no spurs on his small feet. A cream colored hat sat on his head. His levy’s fit better than the average cowboys and his shirt was tailored to fit his big chest and slim waist. He had slim hips and long legs. He had long golden blond hair, which was a little too long for the times, but it was neat and clean, not like the average cowboy’s who wasn’t too particular about his appearance. He was clean shaved except for a mustache that was groomed; his nose and jaw looked like the woman’s who had performed on the stage. I couldn’t see his eyes because of the shadow from his hat which he wore low on his forehead.

His guns and holsters caught my attention. They weren’t ordinary guns. I had never seen anything like them before. I have seen a lot of strange looking pistols in my time but nothing like these; the cylinders were too big around for the guns. They stuck too far out to fit in an ordinary holster. On the side, there was a spring which curved out and around the cylinder to keep them from falling out. Instead of the usual loops to hold each round, there were three cylinders on each side in front of the holsters; they were held in place by a clip instead of the usual pouch. He didn’t have to eject the fired shells. He ejected the cylinder and stuck in a new one, fully loaded. Whoever made those pistols was smart and a damn good gunsmith.

One of the gamblers motioned for him to come over and join them. As he walked toward them, I noticed that he walked very softly for a man of his size; he seemed to glide across the floor just like a dancer. If you had your back to him, I doubt if you would hear him if he walked right up behind you. There was just one empty chair at the table, and its back was toward the room. I could see that he didn’t want to sit down with his back to the room. He put his left hand on the back of the chair and took a good look around to place everybody. When his eyes left mine, I was in for a surprise because his eyes looked the same as the dancers, maybe a little narrower and piercing, but otherwise the same.

He looked me in the eye for several seconds, then nodded his head. I got the feeling that he was asking me to look out for his back. He looked the room over once more and he seemed to be satisfied, so he sat down and told the dealer to deal him in. I asked the bartender who he was. He is the dancers twin brother. No wonder they look so much alike. They looked almost identical.

Of the several men watching the game, one man who was standing behind and a little off to the side, was the twitchiest son of a bitch I ever saw. He was in great pain, or he was just a bundle of nerves. First, one eyebrow would move, then the other; even his ears would move one at a time. I noticed that the shifty-eyed gambler sitting across from the twin was constantly looking over his shoulder at the twitcher, and he seemed to know when to fold or up the ante, and the smile on his lips never seemed to reach his shifty eyes.

As I stood there watching the game, my mind kept wandering back to the woman who had sang and danced so beautifully. I have seen a lot of beautiful and well built women in my travels, and I would put her at the top of the list. She had long, slender well-formed legs and slender hips, a little narrow for such a tall woman. On her, they were perfect; her stomach was flat, and her waist was narrow, above which was two of the best looking breasts I have ever seen. They were big, high and firm like a girls, but she would never see thirty again. She was a big, tall woman, crowding six feet or better with her high heels on. Her shoulders were wide and strong looking. Her nose was straight and thin, slightly upturned, and she had large, intelligent-looking bluish green eyes and a good strong-looking jaw. I do believe she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.

She was very strong-looking. When she moved, her muscles rippled on her arms, back, and legs just like a big, beautiful jungle cat on the prowl.

Her dance was a strange one for this part of the world. It was part ballet and part acrobatics, with some far east movements thrown in. It was one hell of a sexy dance.

Every eye in the room was glued on her, like a pack of hungry wolves eyeing a big piece of raw meat. I had expected somebody to climb up on the stage at any moment, but they hadn’t. They had stayed glued to their seats. It looked like she had been deliberately teasing them.

The costume she was wearing sure as hell didn’t help cool them off any. It was the smallest costume I had ever seen a woman dance in. I couldn’t see how it had stayed on with some of the moves she had made. It looked to me like she had enjoyed herself teasing them like that. When she had finished her dancing, she sang a couple of songs in the huskiest, sexiest voice I ever heard.

When she had finished her last song, she stood with her legs apart, her hands on her hips, looking the room over. When her eyes met mine, she got a startled look in them, as if she was seeing a ghost. Something sure as hell shook her up, because she almost ran off the stage. Now I know that I am not the best looking man in the world. I don’t think I am ugly enough to shake her up like that. Maybe I looked like someone from her past who she was scared of, but I couldn’t see that woman scared of anything living or dead.

I’m big enough to scare almost anything smaller than a grizzly bear. I’m about six foot six with my boots on and I weighed about two hundred and thirty pounds. My shoulders are wide and my hips are narrow for such a big man. My size has always made me stand out in a crowd because I am so tall. The average man is just around five foot eight inches tall. My hair is black with a little gray at the temples and I have a white streak in the middle from a wound I got a long time ago. My eyes are a deep blue and my nose is straight, despite all of the fights that I have been in down through the years. My mouth is a little wide. I guess that is because I have always smiled a lot, especially when I’m in a tight spot, and there have been a lot of them in the last twenty years.

My chin is like a piece of granite, so I have been told by a few men who have broken their fists on it. I still have all my teeth despite the fact that I fought as a professional fighter at one time in the past.

I wear two guns, like most of the men on the outlaw trail or men who make their living with their guns. My left hand gun is in a holster, low on my hip. It’s not tied down like most are. It’s on a swivel with no bottom in it. When sitting down, I don’t have to draw it to fire. I can swing it and fire through the bottom. The right hand one is in a regular holster higher on the hip, with the muzzle pointing a little to the rear. They are forty-fives with hollow-pointed bullets. When I hit something with one of them, I want it to stay hit.

I turned to the bartender, who was looking at the card game with a sour expression on his face. I said, Who was that woman? He didn’t seem to hear me, so I pounded on the bar to get his attention. He turned toward me with a mean look on his face. I said, Give me another drink. When he brought it, he plunked it down on the bar so hard some of it splashed on my hand. Instead of hauling him across the bar and teaching him some manners, I just smiled at him and asked him again who the woman was and where she came from. He said, I don’t give a damn where she comes from, she’s here ain’t she, and that’s what counts ain’t it?

How in hell can a beautiful woman like her protect herself from a bunch of bastards like these?

Let me tell you something about that murdering bitch, he says, with an ugly look on his face. She came in here with a supply wagon about two months ago, riding that fancy mare of hers, acting like she owned the place, and she started to sing and dance. You saw for yourself how she wiggled her ass all over that stage, almost naked, just inviting somebody to make a grab at her. All that dancing around, showing off her body and all that sexy wiggling of her butt, and bouncing them big tits of hers around, and singing in that sexy voice of hers, and making eyes at them, is enough to almost drive them out of their minds, wanting her in bed with them. I know she don’t look it, but that sweet smiling bitch is a cold blooded killer. She has already killed two men and maimed two more.

She hadn’t got far into her dance the first night, when a little man we called the Weasel couldn’t take it any more. He went up on the stage after her, instead of getting some pussy, he got his neck broke. When he got close to her, she kicked his feet out from under him, picked him up by the ankles, hung him over the end of the stage, and dropped him on his head. When his head hit the floor, it broke his neck and killed him deader than a door nail. She just stood there with her hands on he hips and laughed like it was funny or something.

Well, his two friends didn’t think it was funny; they jumped upon the stage from opposite sides of her. She kicked the one nearest her in the face and broke his jaw. He went down like he had been shot in the head. The other one pulled out a big knife and started for her with it low down in front of him. She ran at him like she was going to run into it. When she got close, she jumped into the air, kicked his knife hand down with her left foot, and with her right foot she kicked him so hard in the throat, he flew off that stage like he had been kicked by a mule. He landed on his back and just laid there with his hand on his throat, gasping for air. I thought he was going to die right there, but he didn’t.

Now you know that thing she wears, you couldn’t hide a silver dollar anywhere without it showing. Well, she was standing there with a small gun in her hand, just daring somebody else to take up the fight. When no one took her up on the challenge, she looked down at the man on the stage with blood all over his face and laughed that queer laugh of hers. She then backed off the stage and disappeared.

No, that cold crazy bitch don’t need any protection from anybody; she can look out for herself.

When she gets through with her act, she changes in the little room at the end of the hall. She comes and goes through the door there. There was another big burly man by the name of Jones who thought he would get him some of that. One night while she was on the stage, he sneaked in the back door and hid in the room from her. Well, all he got was a belly full of lead. Somehow she took his gun away from him and blew a hole in him you could damn near stick your fist through.

One night, some men took the notion that they would find where she lived and have themselves a party, but they couldn’t find the place she stays at. I thought back to where that gun had come from when she was on the stage. I know where it came from, but I sure as hell wasn’t about to tell anyone. I’ll let that remain her secret.

He went on to tell me that about two weeks ago, her twin brother showed up in the valley. None of the guards at the entrance saw him coming in, as you know that place is well guarded. He just walked in the door one day and said that his name was Gene Summers and that he was here to look after his sister, Jane. Well, you know about them two men she kicked, they had the notion they would get back at her by killing her brother. That turned out to be the last mistake them two ever made.

When he showed up the third night, they were waiting for him. One was standing at the end of the bar, and the other one was across the room. He hadn’t taken more than three steps into the room, when they both started to draw.

Now those two men weren’t slow on the draw, (they had both been in gun fights before and they both had notches on their guns to prove they had been the winner). They never had a chance against him. He drew both guns and shot both of them two times before they could clear their guns from their holsters. How he saw them start to draw at the same time is beyond me. I said to myself, these two are trying to fill a graveyard all by themselves, and that suited me just fine.

The bartender had moved to the other end of the bar. I turned around, hooked my elbows on the edge of the bar and started watching the game.

I took a good look at the young man, and he didn’t look as young as he had at first. Like I said before, he looked just like his sister, but the mustache made him look a little older than her. His hair seemed to be a little darker. His eyes were kind of squinted, like he was out in the sun a lot. His sister had smiled a lot, but he didn’t smile at all. I noticed that one of his hands never seemed to be very far from one of those little guns of his. I thought to myself, he has to be a damn good shot to carry such small guns. Then, I noticed how small his hands were; his fingers were long and slender like his sisters, and despite their slenderness, they looked strong and capable.

If I was a gambler, I would think twice before I cheated that man at cards. (I’d rather poke at a hornets nest with a short stick than get caught cheating him, and cheating him they were). Old Twitchy was still at it.

All of a sudden, Gene stood up kicking his chair back. He said in a clear calm voice, I don’t like card cheats. Those slim, long fingers were hanging just below the butts of his guns. Twitchy had moved a little farther away, but directly behind him. The Gambler rose slowly to his feet, as if he didn’t have a worry in the world. He was smiling that smile of his that never seemed to reach his shifty eyes. I glanced at Twitchy; the son of a bitch was bringing his arm forward to throw a long, wicked-looking knife at Genes back.

Behind you, I shouted. It was too late to shoot old Twitchy in the head, so I drew and shot at the knife in flight and I missed it. I heard the knife hit, then I heard two shots from about floor level.

I looked, expecting to see the knife sticking out of Genes back, but it wasn’t. It was sticking out of the Gamblers chest, and for once he wasn’t smiling. He had an expression on his face as if to say, this can’t be happening to me. Gene was lying on the floor facing old Twitchy, with both guns smoking. I looked that way and old Twitchy had made his last twitch. There was a little red spot in the middle of his chest and another one in the center of his forehead, and he hadn’t started to fall.

I started to turn to cover the rest of the room and Genes left handgun swung around and barked its message of death right at my head. I thought to myself, that is what you get for sticking your nose in other peoples business. I expected to be standing there with a hole in the middle of my forehead. I heard the whistle past my ear. Ha! You missed you little bastard, and damned if he wasn’t smiling for the first time. Then I heard a thud on the bar behind me. I swung around real fast and there stood the bartender with a little hole in the middle of his forehead, with the blood just starting to ooze out. I glanced down and saw a hatchet sticking in the top of the bar. It must be awful sharp to stick like that from just falling out of his hand. As he crumpled out of sight, I heard a calm voice behind me say, I think we had better get out of here before this motley crowd gets too restless. I turned around. His back was to me. His two guns were covering the room. I pulled out my other gun and covered them. I said, You get our horses while I disarm them. My horse is the big black one with the white spot on his face. Be careful, he doesn’t like to be handled by strangers.

It’s a good thing I’d gone riding and left him at the hitching rail instead of putting him up.

I said, loud enough for everyone to hear, That grave yard out back is growing fast, and if you don’t want it to grow faster, drop your gun belts and line up against the wall over there. When they were all lined up, I said, Face the wall and don’t look around. Anybody that looks around, I’ll blow his head off.

I had just got them lined up when I heard Gene whistle. I went around the room, picking up the gun belts and tossed them behind the bar, so it would take them longer to get at them. As I backed slowly toward the door, I closed my right eye so that I wouldn’t be blind when I stepped outside into the darkness. As a parting thought I said, The first one who sticks his head out the door gets a hole in it.

I threw the door open and jumped through, pulling it shut behind me. I moved to the side in case there had been some hidden holdouts. Sure enough, as if my magic, some holes appeared in the door letting the light out.

I opened my eye and there stood my horse, up against the porch, clear of the door, with Gene sitting on his horse on the other side of him. I stepped into the saddle. Gene said, Follow me, and we just walked our horses away from there.

No lights showed in the big warehouse which had been converted into a bunk house for the guest. There had been a few houses that our people lived in to make it more convenient for them. For some reason, they had been torn down. I had noticed earlier that the barn was still standing and that it needed some repairs, especially to the roof. They had kept the corrals in good shape.

Gene spoke quietly, "I don’t think they will try to follow us tonight. They know we can’t get out of the valley. They will wait until daylight to come after us and by then it will be too late to find us, because I know a place to hide where they will