The Sheriff’s Vengeance (The Texas Riders Western #7) (A Western Frontier Fiction): The Texas Riders, #7

By Joseph Powell

He's outnumbered and outgunned… but this sheriff won't give up his fight for justice.

Sheriff Dusty Hicks has spent his life protecting others, but now he's facing a new kind of danger.

It's a kind of evil he's never had to battle before, but he's willing to go to war if it means saving the lives of dozens of young girls.

One-eyed Joe Pearson and his gang have a taste for the innocent.

Joe likes his women young.

He likes it even more when they're scared.

He's ready to give up thieving, but only if he can bring money in through his brothels.

That means he needs more women, no matter their age.

He'll put them to work, whether they like it or not.

At first, fighting Joe and his gang was just part of Dusty's duty.

When Joe took the woman Dusty loved, things got personal.

But Joe's got a lot of men, and Dusty's outnumbered.

Can Dusty beat Joe before he ruins another life, or is this one war Dusty can't win?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joseph Powell
• Release date: Feb 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393365075

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

* * *

Texas, 1871, Early Autumn

Joe Pearson waited behind a thick patch of trees for the stagecoach to come by. He could hear it rolling down the dirt road and knew they were getting close now.

It had been a half hour since three of his four men had first spotted the coach and reported back to him. Morris hadn’t thought it was worth their time. Two families riding together, and neither of them looked particularly rich.

The parents were dressed in last year’s fashions, and one of the men was not even wearing a hat. Their wives were little better off. Plump, round frames that had sagged in all the wrong places. Their skin was old and stale-looking.

None of it had painted a flattering picture, and if Joe had listened to Morris, they wouldn’t be here now. But Guy knew better. He’d told Joe what he wanted to hear. And Joe had enough patience and years on him to listen.

The parents might not have a lot of money, but they had girls. Young ones. Four of them from about twelve to sixteen. Their faces held innocence along with beauty, and there were no older brothers riding with them for protection.

It was perfect.

Ever since Joe had first found this spot earlier this morning, he’d known it would bring them good luck. They’d let two other coaches go past already because they didn’t have what Joe was after. He was glad now they’d stuck around.

How much longer do we have to sit here? asked Morris.

Shut your mouth, Joe snapped. The last thing he wanted right now was to be heard before they were seen. Not that anyone would’ve been able to hear them over the racket those wheels were making.

Let’s just go get them. Why are we waiting? Morris asked, letting out a huff of air. When had he gotten so impatient?

Joe glared at Morris with his one good eye. If you think you know better than me, then go ahead. Take that coach down yourself. We’ll wait for you right here.

Joe looked around to see whether Jerry, Virgil, or Guy had anything to say about that. None of them did. Morris quieted down.

Morris’ question wasn’t completely dumb though. It was only that Joe had taken a fair amount of time in his planning when they’d arrived here.

This particular part of the road was narrow enough that the coach would never be able to turn around, and it had just the right amount of trees to keep them covered. They’d be able to see the driver, but the driver wouldn’t be able to see them.

Joe thought about those four young girls just waiting for him, no idea their lives were about to change forever, and his mouth began to salivate. His body twitched with excitement.

Just a few more minutes, and he’d have his prize.

* * *

Nellie Wheeler could tell her younger sister was bored. Myra stared at the passing trees and bushes with her eyes half-closed and a drowsy look on her face.

Myra’s blond hair was in tangles. Nellie had already tried once to comb it but with little success. That was the danger of riding in an open-top carriage. No matter what you did, your hair would inevitably end up a mess.

Every so often, the stagecoach would rumble, Myra’s eyes would pop open, and she’d declare to everyone that she was awake. Their parents would laugh, and the Beck family along with them. Ten minutes later, her eyes would begin drooping again.

In another two years, when Myra was sixteen, she would have better control of herself. Nellie knew that because she was sixteen, and she saw things so much more clearly now than she used to. She also took better care of her appearance.

Nellie’s blond hair was not in tangles. She had combed them out long ago and pulled her hair back so that it would remain neat and clean.

The Beck girls were only twelve and would have been worse off than Myra if they hadn’t been twins. But twins shared a special bond that allowed them to keep each other entertained even under the dullest of circumstances.

Their dark eyes sparkled with enthusiasm at the journey they were undertaking, and their equally dark hair somehow managed to stay neater than Myra’s. They were wearing identical dresses, which they both seemed enchanted with.

Nellie’s mother leaned forward. When we arrive at your grandmother’s, you must remember to compliment the bed linens. She wrote me just before we left and said she’d purchased new ones just for you and Myra.

Her mother smiled, and Nellie promised she would do just that. Though how her grandmother could have afforded new bed linens was beyond her understanding.

She did not think their grandmother capable of affording much at all. She must have been saving. That she would spend her savings on them warmed Nellie’s heart.

Myra yawned and leaned her head against Nellie’s shoulder. Nellie started to tell her to stop that, but their father waved her off. Let her. It’s been a long journey.

Nellie exchanged a look with her mother. They both knew her father spoiled Myra, but Nellie did not mind very much. He’d spoiled her at that age as well.

The Beck twins, Erma and Ruby, were talking very fast to each other, making up stories about Indians and wild bears that attacked stagecoaches. Their mother finally silenced them when they began to speak of blood, and their father gave a disapproving look.

The girls grinned at each other. How much farther? asked Ruby.

Not much longer to Redbanks, said Mr. Beck. But we’re not getting off there. We’re continuing another day, at least.

Ruby frowned, but Erma pinched her, and the length of their journey was soon forgotten as they began to tease one another.

Something just up ahead caught Nellie’s eye. She leaned forward and squinted against the light. She wasn’t quite sure what it was she’d seen. There were too many trees up ahead blocking her view.

She watched them closely and saw that they were moving. No, it wasn’t the trees that were moving, it was the men hiding behind them.

Her mouth dropped open, and she let out a scream.

* * *

Joe heard the girl’s scream and knew they’d been spotted. It was a little sooner than he’d wanted, but it had been bound to happen eventually. He could not rob the coach and take the girls without being seen.

He kicked his horse and urged it forward that much faster. The driver of the coach slowed almost to a stop before one of the men in back shouted at him to go faster. That seemed to snap the driver out of his trance, and he began picking up their speed.

It was too late though. Joe and his men were already closing in. Joe drew his LeMat revolver and fired a bullet straight into the driver’s heart. The man’s mouth fell open, and a second later, his body fell with it.

He dropped right out of the driver’s seat and onto the road. The horses trampled over him, and the girls began screaming as one.

One of their fathers tried to climb from the back to the driver’s seat and grab hold of the reins. He succeeded in getting one leg over the front seat before the coach jolted to the left and he was thrown.

Lucky for him, he landed on the side of the road rather than under the horses’ hooves. Not so lucky, though, was that he landed almost exactly at Joe’s feet. Joe pointed his revolver at the man’s head.

No, please, the man said.

Joe pulled the trigger. The .42 caliber bullet entered the man’s skull right between his eyes. Blood oozed out from the crater in his forehead, and his eyes stayed open.

One of the twin girls leaned over the side of the coach and screamed, Daddy! She began to sob. The girl’s mother pulled her back as the remaining man took his turn crawling over the front seat to get to the reins.

The coach had slowed again and seemed to be crawling along now at a snail’s pace. This time, the man reached the reins and started driving the horses forward. Joe’s men were on top of them though.

Guy pulled his horse up alongside the driver’s seat and jumped from his horse onto the coach. The girls all screamed, and this time, their mothers screamed with them. All the women looked terrified.

The man with the reins tried to push Guy back, but Guy pulled his Colt Paterson and aimed it at the man’s head. One of the women jumped up from the back and lunged at him. Her fingertips managed to scrape the tip of Guy’s gun, but that brought her no luck.

Guy simply turned his Colt from the man to her and pulled the trigger. His bullet entered her stomach and sent her flying backward. She landed amidst the girls, who immediately began crying over her.

The woman was still breathing, but her dress was soaked with blood. After only three breaths, her struggle for life came to an end. The man in the driver’s seat looked pale, and despite his best efforts, Guy took the reins from him and forced the coach to a stop.

Joe climbed off his horse while Jerry, Virgil, and Morris surrounded the coach. They all had their guns drawn. Morris had pulled his shotgun and was aiming it at the girls. He knew enough not to shoot though, not unless Joe told him to.

The older of the four girls ordered the others to get down, and the remaining mother grabbed her purse.

She stood up and held it out to Joe.

Here, take it. You can have whatever money we’ve got. Just please, don’t kill my girls.

Joe smiled wickedly at her. Don’t worry. It’s not your girls I aim to kill. He pulled the trigger on his LeMat twice in a row and sent two bullets flying into her. The first hit the center of her chest, the second got her just below her heart.

Blood did not just soak her dress, it came out of her like a waterfall. The girls screamed, and the twins got down off the carriage and began to run.

No! the man still in the driver’s seat shouted. He must’ve been worried Joe’s men would shoot the girls for taking off like that, but it wasn’t the girls who were in danger.

Guy promptly silenced the man with a bullet directly in his mouth. Half the man’s brains blew out the back of his head, and he fell just out of Joe’s sight.

Get those two, Joe shouted, and Virgil took off on his horse. He got maybe ten feet before he caught up to them. Morris was at his heels. They surrounded the girls on either side and pointed their guns at them until the girls had no choice but to stop running.

We know who you are, said one of the twins. One-Eyed Joe. And we’re not scared of you. But the way she was shaking said otherwise.

Virgil looked at Joe. Want me to shoot her for that?

Joe shook his head. He hated that stupid name the papers had given him. Just because he only had one eye did not make him less of a man, or less of a thief. But he wanted these girls alive.

Do what we say, and we won’t hurt you, Joe lied. Don’t do what we say, and we’ll hurt your sister.

The two girls looked at each other.

Slowly, they started to move back toward the coach. Joe told the other two girls to get down. The eldest of the girls was a beauty. She had blond hair pulled back from her face, smooth pale skin, and a full chest. He would take her first.

The girl must have sensed his thoughts, because she stepped protectively in front of the younger girl beside her. I’ll give you anything you want, just don’t hurt my sister.

The twins rejoined them now. They huddled together, forming a tight circle.

Oh, you’ll all give me what I want by the time I’m through with you, Joe said.

Guy gave a whistle. Someone’s coming.

Noah looked over. Another coach?

Guy shook his head. Sounds like a couple of horses to me.

Joe listened and thought Guy had it right, a couple of horses.

Should I shoot whoever it is? Guy asked.

Joe shook his head. We’re too close to Redbanks. Might be the sheriff or one of his deputies.

He wasn’t scared of Sheriff Dusty Hicks or his reputation, but he didn’t want to risk losing these four girls. Especially when they were so perfect for his plans.

He would have to wait to have his fun with the older sister. Right now, they had to go.

* * *

chapter  0 1 ✪

* * *

Redbanks, Texas

Sheriff Dusty Hicks pointed his 1867 Model Sharps carbine rifle at the porch of the single-story house where three unidentified but stubborn men were hiding. Come out of there with your hands raised and I’ll let you live, Dusty said.

One of the men who’d spent the last hour firing at him peeked over the railing. How do we know you’re telling the truth?

Because I don’t shoot unarmed men. Dusty looked around at the group of townspeople who’d gathered around and told his two deputies to get them back. They should never have gotten this close to begin with.

What makes you think we’re unarmed? asked the same man.

Dusty smiled to himself. That part was pretty easy. These three men had spent the last hour shooting at him and his deputies from the porch of this house. All of their attempts to flee had failed.

One by one, their shots had slowed until they finally stopped altogether. They hadn’t fired one bullet at him in the last ten minutes. The only reason Dusty could think they would suddenly stop was if they were out of bullets.

No bullets meant unarmed men, and Dusty wasn’t about to shoot any man who was unarmed, even if maybe they deserved it.

Still, he made sure his deputies got the crowd pushed back just in case he was wrong. He didn’t take chances with innocent people’s lives.

He double checked that he had enough .52 caliber cartridges to finish the job should it come to that and was pleased to see he’d only burned through one of the boxes. The other one was still full.

The Sharps had a range of up to fifteen hundred feet. He was no more than a couple of hundred right now. He’d be able to take the men’s heads off in an instant if they moved into his sight, and they knew it.

There was a long silence, and Dusty was just starting to think about going up to that porch with his rifle and forcing them out when one of them stood up with his hands in the air. A second man followed, and then the third.

He could hear murmurs in the crowd. Now come on down here, Dusty said.

The men inched slowly toward him. Dusty pointed them toward the sheriff’s station and marched them down the road. It wasn’t far, and by the time they got there, the crowd had thinned. The show was over; people could go home now.

Only those with a morbid curiosity followed them all the way to the door of the station. Three bodies were laid out front, covered with sheets that had soaked with red.

The bandits paused as they passed the rest of their gang. You killed them? asked one of the men who had a scar running along his cheek.

Had to, said Dusty. They were firing into a crowd with women and children. I couldn’t let that continue.

The man pouted. If that darn bank manager had just given us the money we asked for, none of this would’ve happened. He looked Dusty right in the eye. We didn’t mean to hurt anyone.

Dusty pressed his lips together. Don’t worry, you didn’t. If you had, none of you would be alive right now.

The man’s eyes widened. But the bank manager...

That shot you boys took at him only got his shoulder, not his life. If you’d stuck around long enough, you’d know that.

The other two men glared at their friend. Stop talking to him, said one of them. He could still kill us, you know.

I’m not killing anyone, I’m gonna make an example out of you.

They looked at him suspiciously. How? asked the one with the scar.

I’ve got a friend who’s a judge not too far from here. I’m gonna send you over to his courthouse. Don’t worry, you’ll get a fair trial. But when it comes time for your sentencing, my friend will make sure you don’t get off easy.

He’s gonna hang us, said the larger of the men.

That’s not for me to decide, said Dusty. But whatever happens, people will know not to try and rob a bank in Redbanks again.

Frankly, he was surprised that these men had been so stupid. He’d spent the last few months cleaning up this town and getting the word out that outlaws were no longer allowed.

This gang either hadn’t gotten the message, or they weren’t from around here. It didn’t much matter. It was over and done with.

Dusty got the three men locked up and sent word over the wire that he had three criminals in his cells and needed a transfer. Word came back to him a little while later that someone would be by tomorrow to get them.

The men didn’t say a whole lot after that. Dusty waited a little while then checked that the dead bodies had been picked up from out front. He left Deputy Grant in charge and went by the undertaker’s to make sure there were no problems with getting them buried.

Hal Boomer, the undertaker, looked up when Dusty came in. I was wondering when you’d be by. He held out a picture to Dusty.

What’s that? Dusty asked, taking the photo. He’d only seen one other photo before, and that had come from a rich businessman who’d been passing through town, showing off for the townsfolk and getting a kick out of it.

He looked at the picture. The woman in it was pretty, with dark chestnut hair and a soft smile he thought most men would find attractive.

I got it off one of the dead men, the fella with the birthmark under his right eye. Must be his sweetheart, said Hal.

Dusty frowned. We have any idea who these men are? Anything else to identify them with?

Hal shook his head. That photo is the best I could do. I take it those three you brought in aren’t talking?

Every time I ask, they tell me their names are Mike, Mike, and Mike.

Hal chuckled. They got a last name?

Yeah, Sourpuss.

Dusty reached into his pocket and pulled out a few dollars. He handed them over to Hal.

What’s this for?

Somewhere out there is a woman who cares for this man. And the other men who died still have mothers and maybe sisters. For their sake, let’s make sure they get buried with a proper marker. That enough to cover it?

Hal looked down at the bills. You’re a good man, Dusty. He handed one of the bills back to him. This ought to be enough.

Dusty thanked him and left with the idea of stopping off at the Simmer Down Diner and getting some food. His stomach was rumbling. Plus, he’d get to see Carol. It had been a couple days since he’d seen her, and he didn’t like to go that long without at least a hello.

He wasn’t sure she was particularly interested in him, but he thought that was probably a good thing. He knew what could happen when a sheriff got involved with a woman. There were too many things that could go wrong, and someone always ended up hurt.

Still, a simple hello was all right.

Halfway there, Deputy Hutch Madison spotted him and came running over. He was out of breath. David sent me to get you. Word just came in. There was a stagecoach attack just outside of Redbanks. Four people were killed.

Dusty’s muscles tightened. Do you know who did it?

Hutch nodded. He licked his lips. One-Eyed Joe and his gang.

Dusty’s mouth went dry. Joe Pearson had been this close to Redbanks and Dusty had let him slip through his fingers? It made his stomach churn just to think of it.

We have an exact location?

Hutch looked more eager now. We sure do. That little dirt road that takes you from Redbanks down to Charbury and back toward Buzzard’s Stone. It was about near the point where the road turns and narrows off.

Dusty knew exactly where Hutch was talking about. He’d said before that particular stretch of road was dangerous. They ought to either close it up or fix it so that a person could see around the bend without getting ambushed.

I guess we’d better take a ride over there then. Dusty headed toward his horse. Who found the coach?

Grover Knox and his son. They must’ve come upon it just after it happened.

How do they know it was Joe Pearson who did it?

Remy spotted him riding off.

Dusty nodded. Remy wouldn’t tell stories. Maybe if he was still ten, but he was a young man of fifteen now, and his father had taught him better than that.

They say anything else? Dusty asked.

Not really. Remy started following after them, but his dad begged him not to. Probably a wise idea, if you ask me. Joe’s a good shot and not exactly known for letting men go.

Carol and the diner would have to wait a little while longer. She probably wouldn’t even notice that he didn’t come in. She had better things to worry about than him. And right now, Dusty had an outlaw to catch.

* * *

chapter  0 2 ✪

* * *

Carol Hoover leaned against the counter at the Simmer Down Diner and stared at the door. She knew she was being silly, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the entrance.

She’d heard about the bank robbery this morning, and that had been bad enough. Then people had started pouring in talking about the house the men had tried to take over and how Dusty had gone after them.

Her nerves had been a wreck ever since then, and they’d only started to ease an hour or so ago when word had come