Justice Never Sleeps (The Texas Riders Western #12) (A Western Frontier Fiction): The Texas Riders, #12

By Joseph Powell

He's fighting for his land, home, and woman… and he's going to win even if it kills him.

Rancher Sebastian Maddox is a retired gunfighter who just wants to live a peaceful, quiet life on his Texas ranch. But when someone tries to scare him off his land, Sebastian realizes there is no peace without justice.

Gilbert Kramer and his gang are the most wanted outlaws in the West.

They're not just bad; they're pure evil.

They relish in hurting others and make their money by stealing it from hardworking people. They killed Bridget O'Hara's entire family.

They would have killed her too if she hadn't been a fast runner.

When Sebastian meets Bridget, he learns that Gilbert is hiding out on the ranch next door. The problem is he can't prove it, and no one believes him.

If Sebastian does nothing, the entire town is in danger.

But if he acts fast, he might be able to save both Bridget and Blackgate from total destruction.

Sebastian's guns are coming out of retirement, but is this one battle he can't win?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joseph Powell
• Release date: Feb 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9781386445241

Joseph Powell

Joseph Powell is the author of Last Stand at Rock Springs.  He is a classic western writer and his stories always happened at the real place with a fictional eye. He lives in Kansas City with his wife and two children.

Book preview

prologue

* * *

Winter 1873, Clear Water, Texas

Gilbert Kramer walked into the Hungry Bear Diner and looked around. It was a small place with few tables and even fewer booths, but it was busy, especially for three in the afternoon.

Maybe that was just because Clear Water was such a small town that the choices here were few and far between, or maybe the food here was just that good. Gilbert decided he was hungry enough to find out before he and his men got down to business.

They’d been riding through dry, dusty prairie for days only to end up in this dry, dusty town. Gilbert had no intention of leaving without getting something for all of his troubles. He’d only been thinking of money, but now that he smelled the food cooking, he decided he’d take both.

Every table was full, but there was one empty booth at the back of the room. It wasn’t nearly big enough for all his men though. If they squeezed, they might get five or six of them in there at the most, but that would be pushing things.

He had twelve men to feed. This diner was gonna have to do better than a single booth. He signaled to Renny and Vic, who spit their tobacco into a pot then moved to the empty table and sat down. Lester and Paul stayed with him.

There was a booth beside the empty one with a man, woman, and their two kids sitting in it. The kids were small, maybe four or five, and barely counted as people at all. Between them, they didn’t even take up half the seat.

Gilbert stood there and stared at the man. Lester and Paul flanked him on either side. All three men had pistols strapped to their gun belts.

The man in the booth was nervous as he looked up, but he tried to sound brave in front of his wife and kids. Can I help you gentlemen with something?

Gilbert smiled. Gentlemen? That was funny. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had called any of them a gentleman. My friends and I need this booth you’re sitting at. I’d like you to move.

The man frowned then looked anxiously at his wife and kids. I’m afraid we’re not done eating yet. But you can have this booth when we’re finished. He turned back to his plate of food and went to lift his fork. Gilbert grabbed the fork away from him and threw it on the floor.

A waitress with red hair stepped up to him. What do you think you’re doing? You can’t throw things around like that in here. She was in her early twenties and beautiful, even if she had a slight Irish accent.

For now, Gilbert ignored her. Maybe later, he’d get back to her. I said you’re done here. Now pay for your food and get out. Gilbert glared at the man, who glared back at him.

We’re not leaving until we’re finished. He rolled his shoulders back, trying to be tough. Gilbert wasn’t fooled.

Trust me when I tell you I’m doing you a favor here, Gilbert said. About thirty minutes from now, you’re gonna be glad I told you to go.

The man’s glare softened and was replaced with fear. Gilbert could tell he’d been recognized. Took the guy long enough. Oh, Mr. Kramer, sir. I’m sorry. Of course, the booth is yours.

The man whispered something in his wife’s ear and rose up out of his seat. They quickly got their children up as well.

The redheaded waitress came over. Her face was one big scowl, but it was a pretty scowl. She set her hands on shapely hips, and her breasts heaved in and out as she drew in a breath. Leave our customers alone and wait your turn, like everyone else.

She looked at the father of two, who was urging his children away from the table. You don’t have to go. He can’t bully you.

The man looked at her. It’s all right Bridget. Don’t you know who this is?

She blinked, and her blank expression told Gilbert she had no idea.

The father shook his head. We’re leaving. Let him have the booth. He looked at Gilbert again. Sorry again, Mr. Kramer, sir. He threw some money at the waitress without counting it out and hustled his family out of there. It was probably the best decision of his life.

Gilbert motioned to the rest of his men to come and take the now empty table. It still wasn’t enough room for all twelve of them, but now people were watching, and more people were recognizing them. The next table Gilbert went up to did not need telling twice. They ran out of the diner as soon as Gilbert said hello.

Gilbert’s men sat down, spread across three tables now. He joined Renny and Vic. He’d known them the longest and preferred their company over the others.

The redheaded waitress, Bridget, came over to them, her hands still on her hips. You can’t just push our customers out like that because you’re hungry.

Renny looked her up and down. Aren’t you the feisty one? And pretty.

The woman blushed. Look, we don’t want any trouble, but you can’t—

We don’t want any trouble either, said Gilbert. Just a good meal. Give us that, and we promise to go quietly when we’re through. He wondered if she’d bought that.

The redhead opened her mouth to yell some more, but a slightly younger redhead grabbed her arm. "Bridget, hush," she said and pulled her quickly away. Sisters. Gilbert could have a lot of fun with the pair of them later.

Maybe after they’d finished their meals and robbed the place dry, he’d spare those two. He could take them with him, have his fun, and kill them later. Lord knew his men deserved a couple of warm, soft bodies to lie with, even if the women themselves wanted nothing to do with them.

* * *

Bridget O’Hara glared at her sister in the kitchen of their diner. What did you do that for? Those men can’t just be bullying our customers.

Clara had been born in America, so when she spoke, it was without the accent Bridget had carried over to the country when she’d arrived here at five years old.

Ssh! Clara hissed, peeking through the door at the dining room. Don’t you know who those men are?

But Bridget had no idea what her sister was talking about. Who?

That’s Gilbert Kramer and his gang.

Now Bridget’s eyes drew together. She’d heard of the Kramer Gang. Gilbert Kramer was the most wanted man in the country.

He’d killed more people than every other outlaw put together, or so they said. She knew perfectly well that news agencies exaggerated things to sell more papers, but still, if even half of that was true, he was dangerous.

Should I get the sheriff? Bridget asked.

Are you crazy? We don’t want a shootout here in the diner. Just get them their food and be done with it. I’ll help you.

Bridget looked at her sister. No, I’ll do it. You just get the other tables.

Clara was young, only eighteen. It was the same age Bridget had been when she’d conceived her daughter, Shannon, out of wedlock. If she could go back in time five years and tell her younger self not to let her parents send her daughter away to be raised by her aunt and uncle, she would.

The problem with young girls was that they didn’t always think clearly and were easy prey for men. She’d learned that the hard way, and she didn’t want her sister anywhere near Gilbert or his gang. In fact, she didn’t want her little brother anywhere near them either. She looked around for Patrick. He was washing dishes in the kitchen.

Stay back here for a while, she told him.

He looked at her. Why?

Just do as I say.

Her parents looked over from the stove where they were cooking. Something wrong? her father asked.

She smiled and shook her head, not wanting to worry him. No, nothing. Her mother did not look so easily convinced, but Bridget hurried out of there before her mother could question her further.

Gilbert and his men gave their orders, and Bridget put them in. She asked her father to make them as fast as possible, even if it meant skipping the orders ahead of them.

Why? he asked, suspicious now as well.

Bridget hesitated, but Patrick gave up the secret. I know, I peeked out at the dining room. Gilbert Kramer and his gang are out there.

Patrick! Bridget said, snapping at her brother, but he was only twelve years old. She could not stay angry with him.

Her mother and father looked worried now. They stopped cooking and moved toward the heavy kitchen swing door. Bridget and Clara stopped them.

Just let them finish their meals and they’ll go, Clara said.

Bridget was glad Clara was backing her up on this.

You should have told us, her father said and returned to the stove. He started cooking their orders double time. Their mother helped him. Soon Gilbert and his men were all fed and their plates empty.

She hesitated about presenting them with the bill and finally decided it would be better not to even try. Her family would just have to be out of pocket, but at least they’d have their lives.

It’s on the house today, she said.

Gilbert smiled at her.

Thank you, Miss...

O’Hara. She did not want to tell him her real name, but she supposed he could find out easily enough if he wanted to.

He continued smiling as he stood up. She took a step back to move out of his way, but his hand shot out and wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. His men laughed as he tried to get a kiss from her.

Stop it, Bridget said, but he did not stop. His men laughed louder.

From the back of the room, Clara began to shout. Leave her alone!

Gilbert stopped struggling with Bridget long enough to look at his friends. Get that one, too. We’ll take them both with us after we get their money. He looked around the room and shouted loud enough for all the customers to hear. Empty your pockets and set your money on your table.

Bridget’s heart began to race. Instead of emptying their pockets, several of the male customers in the room stood up now, objecting as Gilbert and his men tried to push Bridget and Clara out of the diner.

Leave those girls alone!

Get out of here or I’ll get the sheriff!

Gilbert looked at them. Give us your money, and we’ll leave you with your lives.

The men hesitated, but one of the tougher-looking male customers rolled his shoulders back. We don’t care who you are, we’re not gonna let you take those women!

For one second, Bridget thought the man’s objections had worked. Gilbert actually let go of her, but then he pulled out his gun and shot the man in the chest. The man fell down, and chaos erupted around them.

Women and children began to scream and cry, and a few of the men tried to rush Gilbert in an attempt to get his gun from him. They failed.

Gilbert shot a man twice in the face as he reached for Gilbert’s gun. Bridget’s parents came running out with Patrick just behind them. Bridget tried to shout a warning, but there was too much noise now. People were rushing for the door.

Gilbert shot her father first. The bullet entered his chest and soaked his shirt red. Their mother tried to help him, and Gilbert shot her next. This time, the bullet struck her head, and Bridget watched as her mother’s brains flew out the back of her skull and splattered on the wall behind her.

Clara screamed and tried to grab Patrick, who was standing there numb. Clara covered Patrick with her body, but that only resulted in her getting shot in the back. She fell down, and the bullet that followed went right into the center of Patrick’s neck.

He covered the wound with his hand, trying to stop the blood, and another bullet got him in the chest. His lifeless body landed on top of Clara’s.

Gilbert yelled at his men. I said to leave the redhead. He shook his head and reached for Bridget, but she pushed him back as hard as she could and grabbed the fork off his empty plate. She stabbed him in the arm with it and he dropped his gun. Bridget ran before he could pick it up again.

His men were busy putting bullets into everyone who moved. One of them turned his gun on her, but a child of six ran in front of her at just the wrong moment and took the bullet intended for her. Bridget was horrified and tried to catch the child as she fell. The bullet had entered her right eye though, and both her eye and her life were gone.

Bridget dropped the child and ran as a second bullet whizzed past her ear. There was no chance of getting out the front way, his men were blocking the doors, but she made it to the kitchen and out the back.

Bridget was exhausted and terrified and already out of breath, but she did not stop running until her knees buckled and her whole body collapsed. By then, she had no idea where she was. All she knew was that she would never feel safe again.

* * *

chapter  0 1 ✪

* * *

Blackgate, Texas

A few months later...

Sebastian Maddox looked out over the ranchland he owned and frowned. It was pretty Texas land, especially with the sun painting the sky pinks and purples as it set over the hills. But none of it held much interest for him anymore, not since Hannah’s death.

His sister had been shot and killed months ago. Sebastian had gotten the men who did it, but that didn’t help him when the nights fell dark and the land grew silent. He’d raised Hannah up from the time he was sixteen and she was eight, and not having her here hurt him bad. For the hundredth time today, he thought about selling his land and starting over fresh, somewhere far away from here.

He got on his favorite horse, a Palomino he called Pony even though it was the size of a house, and rode across the land counting up cattle and making sure none were missing. He had at least one cow that would be birthing soon, and he wanted to make sure nothing went wrong when the time came.

In the near distance, he spotted Little Johnny Baldwin cutting across his land. Everyone called him Little Johnny because he was only twelve, but the boy was even bigger than Pony.

Little Johnny lived close by with his father, Big John, and was used to cutting through Sebastian’s land on his way back and forth to town. He looked up when he heard Sebastian ride toward him.

Hiya, Blaze.

Sebastian cringed. No one called him that anymore. As far as he was concerned, the gunfighter known as Blaze Maddox had been put to rest eight years ago on his twentieth birthday. Little Johnny must have caught the expression on Sebastian’s face because he immediately apologized.

Sorry, Mr. Maddox, sir.

Sebastian’s just fine. He didn’t need formalities from Johnny. Things like sir were reserved for better, wiser people than him.

Little Johnny’s cheeks turned pink. I hope you don’t mind me cutting through.

No matter how many times Sebastian told Little Johnny it was fine, the boy always looked as though he’d been caught with his hand in the cash register.

I don’t mind, Sebastian said. How’s your pa?

Fine. Still getting over that cold. I went and got him some tinctures from the apothecary that ought to fix him up. Ran into Old Man Wylde down there. Did you know he’s selling his place? Says he wants to go somewhere warm, as if Texas ain’t warm enough.

Little Johnny shook his head as sweat ran down his cheek. Texas summers were pretty harsh.

Mr. Wylde’s selling his land? Sebastian hadn’t heard that, but then he didn’t get to town too often. Mr. Wylde’s ranchland was wider and bigger than Sebastian’s and just next door. The edges of their property actually touched.

It gave Sebastian an idea. Maybe what he needed wasn’t a fresh start, maybe all he needed was something more to do with his time.

The land he already had was plentiful, but he didn’t have a whole lot of cattle roaming on it. He got by caring for it all himself, occasionally hiring on extra help when he needed it.

If he bought another ranch, he could expand. He had some money saved and could probably afford Mr. Wylde’s place if he wanted it. Mr. Wylde had more cattle, along with some pigs and goats, and some steady ranch hands who lived on the property.

Sebastian wouldn’t have time to think about Hannah, let alone picture her cold body lying in that grave. He could either move into Mr. Wylde’s house or stay in the one he already owned, the one he’d shared with Hannah. At least he’d have a choice about it. The more he thought it over, the more he liked the idea.

Sebastian thanked Little Johnny for the information and watched the boy go on his way. Tomorrow he would pay Mr. Wylde a visit and make him an offer.

* * *

It was around nine in the morning when Sebastian got to Tom Wylde’s home. He’d convinced his friend, Sheriff Rowan Keller, to come along for the ride. Mostly because he wanted someone there to give him a second opinion, should it be needed.

Rowan was a good friend, the only one Sebastian really had. If Sebastian tried to do something stupid, like pay too much or too little for the land, Rowan would tell him so. And if he tried to do something even stupider, like leave before making any offer at all, Rowan would set him straight on that too.

Sebastian knocked on Tom’s door. The man who opened it was just past seventy. He still had a thick head of white hair, but his once smooth and soft skin had been darkened by working in the sun for so many years; it was now like a fine piece of leather.

Tom was surprised to see Sebastian and Rowan but pleasantly so. He showed them into his house and offered them drinks. They both thanked him but declined the offer. Sebastian preferred to get down to business.

I’ve come about your land, Sebastian said. I’d like to make an offer.

Tom frowned. Not exactly the reaction Sebastian had been hoping for. I’m sorry, Sebastian. I like you, I always have. If I’d known you were interested, I’d have held it for you.

A deep scowl ran across Sebastian’s face, digging lines into his forehead and around his mouth. You’ve already sold it? He was disappointed but supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Tom’s land was rich and well-kept, the ideal property.

Eric Barnett put in an offer just yesterday, Tom said.

Sheriff Rowan Keller, who knew Tom, though not very well, had remained silent up till now. Have you accepted the offer?

Tom hesitated. Well, no. It was quite a bit lower than what I’d hoped for, so I told him I had to think it over.

Sebastian shot a grateful look at his friend. This was precisely why he’d brought Rowan along. I’ll give you the asking price.

Tom’s eyes widened. Are you sure you have that much?

But money wasn’t the issue. Sebastian had earned plenty when he’d collected the bounty on those criminals who’d killed his sister. He had enough to buy Tom’s land and still have money left over.

I wouldn’t make you the offer if I couldn’t back it up, Sebastian said.

Tom grinned. I hate to turn Eric down when he was here first, but to tell you the truth, something about that man always bugged me. I never did care much for him. He held out his hand, and Sebastian shook it.

Where are you gonna go when you leave here? Rowan asked.

A happy look played across Tom’s face. My daughter and her husband have a comfortable living down in Georgia, near the ocean. They invited me to live with them.

Sebastian had never seen the ocean. Sounds nice.

Sure does, said Rowan.

Tom smiled at both men. I think spending my days sitting on the beach somewhere with my grandkids running around me is about the best thing any man can hope for in his golden years. I wish the same for you both one day.

Rowan was already well on his way. Newly married, he and his wife had adopted two children, one still an infant.

Sebastian, however, had no such plans. He did not intend to marry, and he especially did not intend to have children. He knew firsthand how difficult it was to care for someone and then lose them. He had no intention of doing either ever again.

I’ll stop at the bank as soon as I leave here, so you can get on with your journey, Sebastian said.

Tom thanked him and promised to deliver the news to Eric Barnett with equal speediness. Sebastian did not feel sorry for taking Tom’s ranch out from under him. If Eric had truly wanted it, he’d have offered more.

Sebastian and Rowan left Tom’s place and headed toward town. What are you doing the rest of the day? asked Sebastian.

Rowan sighed. Word came in this morning about the Kramer Gang. They shot up Charbury a couple of days ago. Most of marshals and rangers think they’re headed for Mexico.

Something in Rowan’s voice gave Sebastian pause. You don’t agree.

Rowan shrugged. All I know is that the Kramer Gang has gotten away with their crimes this long by outsmarting the marshals who are after them. Charbury’s pretty close to here; it makes sense to take a look around.

Sebastian couldn’t disagree with that logic. I’ll keep an eye out when I’m riding my land later. If I see anything strange, I’ll let you know.

I’d appreciate it. The last thing we need is the Kramer Gang tearing up Blackgate.

* * *

Eric Barnett scowled at Tom Wylde, who was standing just outside his front door. I thought we had a deal.

Tom shook his head. All I told you was that I’d think it over. I did that, and I’ve decided to accept Sebastian’s offer instead. I’m sorry if you’ve got hard feelings because of it.

Hard feelings? Was the old