You Better Come Shootin

By Tom Leftwich

Tales of Gun fighters, murder, Indian conflicts, gold mining mystery, suspense, horse racing, wild horse capture, hanging , hidden romance, marriage and the amazing Pony Express. For the commuter in today’s hectic work place an interesting action filled experience during that one hour or better ride to work, and as a substitute for that evening of canned commercial TV. Bring your imagination and hard core American Heritage as you stand shoulder to shoulder with these heroic men and women defining Western Justice.Riding with a young daring Rider of the Pony Express as he blazes his way through Indian ambush and"Hold Your Breath" as the young girl Anita, picked up a rifle and carefully squeezed off a shot, mercifully; ending the horrible suffering of Arturo! To be a part of this literary experience “ You Better Come Shootin!!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Feb 21, 2011
• ISBN: 9781257013326

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You Better Come Shootin

You Better Come Shootin

By Tom  Leftwich

Copyright © 2011   By  Author :

Tom Leftwich

All rights reserved.

ISBN   978-1-4583-8171-2

LuLu  Publisher ID  10103618

Printed in the United States of America.

Introduction:

I have spent a lifetime participating in and enjoying many of the wonderful outdoor adventures and  experiences that were common place during the development of western America. I have found that the strong character and feelings of hero’s,(men and women)  and villains were no different than those seen in society today. Those event generated emotions that I have personally experienced and witnessed in life threatening instances, I’ve endeavored to describe and include in these fictionalized stories of early Frontier ordeals in California, Arizona and New Mexico Territories. I hope that you, the reader; get as much enjoyment from these tales as I did writing them.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to the memory of those 1960 and 1970 Cowboy Families of Rosamond , California that brought to this little town the Rosamond Fair and the Little Britches Rodeo’s giving the Antelope Valley a taste of Frontier Pleasure. My Sincere Thanks to the families of : Wayne Miller, Jim Williford, Jerry Williams, Mama Myrt Davis, Jack Adams, Frank King, George Webb, Russ Lancaster, Ellen Carle, Chuck Fitts, Bob Fetters, Lawrence Duntley, Rocky Woody, Joe Pauley and a host of other families that donated their time and resources making these events possible. It has been my distinct pleasure to have worked with and ridden side by side with these wonderful families.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1    Gunfighter from Redondo 

Chapter 2  The Great Apache War Horse Race

Chapter 3  Come Shooting if You Want Me

Chapter 4   Abraham’s Gold

Chapter 5    Willing to Hang Morgan

Chapter 6   A Chance to Kill

Chapter 7   Shut Up and Marry Me

Chapter 8   Death Comes Running

Chapter  1  Gunfighter from Redondo

The year is 1874 and I’m almost twenty two years old , run away from home by the local Sheriff, and heading for that California land of promise. Only a horse, a bedroll and a few possible’s  to my name. Two years on my own and nothing but trouble to show for the time. Gun fighting in Bisbee, Arizona, recovering my stolen horse. Jailed in Chandler for robbery, a case of mistaken identity;  and now I just want to get out of state. I only know ranch hand work, but I was told that I could make it good further north shooting buffalo for the hide bounty. I am a pretty fair shot ,but slaughtering buffalo is not something that I could swallow. I just wanted to cross over the sheer rock slides of this Hualapai Mountain range and  head west. California, to me; was a land  of opportunity . I patted ol’Charlie , my horse;  settled back in the saddle and let him pick his way up that mountain side.

The thunk of the bullet, the sound of a shot  and the scream of Charlie, brought me suddenly out of a half a sleep daze! Just as suddenly ,I was falling down the side of the mountain. the loose shale was sliding and Charlie was still trying to scramble to his feet. I was pinned by my left leg and couldn’t get free of the saddle. Instinct more than anything , allowed me to free myself and slide clear. Bullets were hitting around me and I felt a sharp burn on my neck. Everything was happening too fast to think, I was scared and hoping that we would hit something to stop us from tumbling off the side of the mountain. Suddenly everything stopped and a cloud of dust covered me and Charlie. We had slid to the base of a large sugar pine tree growing in the bottom of a small ditch. On both sides the rock ,shale and sand continued to slide down the side and over the bluff to the canyon far below. God, I was just plain lucky that we had hit this tree!

I threw myself on Charlie’s head to hold him down till I could see where he had been hit. Fear and total despair filled me as I saw his shattered front leg. Ol’Charlie would never walk again or carry me through the thousand miles we had seen in the last two years . Here was the only friend and companion that I had and I couldn’t help him or let him suffer. I had no idea who or why someone was trying to kill me, but I had no choice but to mercifully put Charlie to rest. If I let him to his feet , he would struggle, fight the torture trying to walk and slide into that shale draw and fall to his death or another terrible suffering injury below. The Henry repeater was in the saddle sheath ,but I drew my pistol and while holding ol’Charlie’s head to the ground, I almost blindly fired the gun , killing him.

The sound of my shot immediately drew rifle fire from the mountain above me. Bullets were hammering into the tree and a mad unreasoning rage was starting to build within me . I jerked loose my saddle gun heading up that draw that I had just slid down. A bullet caught my hat blowing it off down the hill and this brought me almost to my senses. Common sense finally came to me before I took a bullet and I ducked down rolling back to that Sugar Pine. Think, you idiot; I said to myself , These are killers and going off half cocked will get you killed! Blood was all over my shirt front and I found that burning on my neck was from a nick I’d taken from one of the killers rifles. An inch closer and I wouldn’t have anything to worry about. I rolled my neckerchief and tied it tight around my neck. This wasn’t the cleanest but it might stop the bleeding.

As I looked around , another fear came over me; there was no easy escape from this cut in the mountain side. At the base of the tree ,I was out of sight of whoever was shooting , but if they came over the rise on both sides of me ,there was no way to protect myself. It wouldn’t take long for them to realize this and brace my location between them. Time was running out . It looked like this was the end for me and I had no idea what or why I was someone’s target. Standing up I could see the top of brush on the far side of the cut. If I could get there without getting shot ,I might could find a way out. Across that cutout wash was nothing but loose shale and a steep drop off over a cliff less than fifty feet from my position. To set foot on that loose shale could be suicide, but I had no choice. I had to give it a try or wait for a bullet.

I needed some help bad, because once I moved away from the tree , I would be in plain sight of the gunmen and fully exposed on that white shale in the cut out. I knew that the longer I waited the more dangerous my position became. I was damning my luck and desperately trying to figure another way out. I resigned myself to trying to hunker down behind the dead carcass of ol’Charlie for protection and wait for the coming final fight. If I could just hold them off till night fall, I might have a chance. I  pulled  my saddle clear of Charley and got that saddle gun in position, fully loaded. I wasn’t going to go down without giving the killer’s all sixteen rounds plus that loaded 44 in my belt. It had been two long years since I had experienced  a rage such as come over me .

Once before , I had been frightened of this unreasoning anger that consumed me and two killing thieves had paid with their lives for burning our barn and killing four of  Dad’s horses. I had blindly walked into both of them with that ol’Henry blazing and the shock had unnerved them to the point that all of their shooting was wild. Mine wasn’t. Dan Watson, the Sheriff of Redondo, New Mexico Territory,  gave me a strange look when I told my story and said that I’d better pull out , he didn’t want my troubles in his County. He said, I know it’s not your fault, but you just killed Bob Leslie and his partner Jim Sikes . Both are noted gunfighters. Your reputation now, will only bring more gun play. I was known  for being fast and accurate, but only in shooting contests at the local Fairs and  Turkey Shoots. I had never pulled a gun on anyone and although my Mom and Dad objected, I felt it better if I went away for awhile, I didn’t want to bring any shootings down on them. At this moment , though ; I had no time for thinking of the past or letting anger get to me.

I was scared , but that blind killing violent anger in me was turning to a terrifying  resolve to blast somebody to Hell!  A cool breeze coming up from the canyon floor was welcome relief and stirred the loose shale dust around the cut side of the pine tree. Seeing that and remembering my slide into the tree, gave me an idea and some hope! I had to steel my feelings against what was necessary and although I’m not a big man, by exerting all of my one hundred and fifty pounds;. I  pulled Charley’s carcass around the down side of the tree and by nothing but blind luck and loose gravel, I was able to slide his back legs and body into the wash. The down hill grade and loose shale took over from there and ol’Charley slid down and over that cliff edge  carrying a ton of gravel and shale with him. My feeling of loss and desperation was fast becoming a vengeance trip for Charley that I was willing to die for. I grabbed my saddle bags and rifle and waited for what I hoped would be my way out of there.

I didn’t have to wait long . A billowing thick dirty cloud of dust blew up over the edge of that canyon completely covering the whole bottom of the wash and the pine tree. I couldn’t see a thing ,but I knew where the wash was and I had no choice but to take the chance and try to run across that moving ditch of loose sliding shale. Nothing in my life had prepared me for the fear that came with this effort. I closed my mind to the panic and tried to see my footing. Everything was moving and I had no idea how close I was getting to the edge of that cliff. Twice I stumbled and I must have been holding my breath, because I let out a great sigh of relief when my feet finally hit solid ground. I scrambled up the cut bank and ducked into brush I could see ahead of me. I could hear yelling from above  and I clawed through getting as much distance from the cut as possible. I rolled under the low lying branches and spun around on my belly hoping that I would be concealed when the dust lifted.

Someone was yelling, JD, hey JD do you see anything yet?  No you fool JD yelled back, Shut up, and stay down! I think that I got him with that last shot, but wait till it clears up! Yeah and I’m thinking, Clear up damn it, so I can do a little shooting on my own!" Luck was not with me on this. The shale continued to slide creating more and more of a dust cloud. I couldn’t see clear of the wash. I then heard them making their way down to the big Sugar Pine. From their conversation , I made out three different voices and two more of the group were told to remain back on top with their horses. I couldn’t see them and they couldn’t see me, so I decided to get out of that hole and scramble up and get me a horse and what ever else was up there. It was time to find out why these killer’s had picked me out to bush wack and to let them know that I had a little Hell to give of my own.

As I neared the edge of the thick brush at the top of the ridge , I could see five horses ground tied in a small clearing. One a dark bay , was looking directly at me. I didn’t move and hoped that it wouldn’t draw any attention my way. The voices of the other two gang members came from a little further down the ridge and as they came up to the horses , I could hear their conversation. One, a dark swarty narrow faced man I took to be called Jeff from his partner’s comments was saying, JD thinks he got him, there’s blood all over his saddle  and  they’re coming up . Maybe now we can get to that saloon in Cerbert and celebrate a little!

I turned cold all over, that blood on the saddle was ol’Charlie’s and they had just killed the horse that had brought me a thousand miles and been a working companion for two lonely and hard  years. I didn’t know any way to deal with killers. My Dad had said to hit first and apologize later if things turned out that you were in the wrong. That was in teenage fist fights. Right now ,I was in a blinding rage and no amount of reasoning was gonna keep me from avenging ol’Charlie. I might a been  crying when I stepped out in front of these two killers with that Henry in my hands.  I felt no fear of dying, it was almost as if I was watching some one else.

Who the hell are you ? a startled Jeff demanded. My answer was Who the hell did you think I was that you were trying to kill? my Henry was pointing at the ground and Jeff said, Look Kid ,we were after Goodwin, on that big brown horse. Put that pump pea shooter away and get outta here before we have to spank you with it!! Friend’I said , That was me on that big brown horse you just murdered and you can start the spanking any damn time! A wild and surprised look came over Jeff’s face and cursing ,he went for his gun. His partner was faster and threw down on me as I brought up the Henry.  I felt a jolt in the shoulder, but I was too busy pumping that Henry to pay any attention.  My first two rounds caught the fast gunman in the chest driving him backwards and I cut to Jeff as his gun cleared leather. He never got off a shot and with a look of disbelief, he crumpled to the ground.  I kept firing till both were down and unmoving. That 44 Henry held sixteen rounds and I wasn’t counting. These killer’s hadn’t shown any mercy and neither did I !

Vaguely I heard JD and his partners yelling from down below and not knowing how much longer I had before the effects of being wounded put me down, I grabbed that Bay horse , cut the others free , mounted and stampeded the others out ahead as I ran off that mountain. I was shaking like a leaf and knew that I had to get some distance before I stopped to check the damage. It could a been  miles or more before I stopped and dismounted. I sat on the ground and lost what little breakfast that I had that morning, there’s no way to just forget or put killing totally out of your mind. I might have been a salty avenger going into that shooting, but right now I was just  scared, nerve wracked, and sick to my stomach. I had to be hurt bad ; there was a sharp  feeling of pain in my shoulder. I had completely forgotten the saddlebags hanging there, and to my surprise , good luck, and relief; they had cushioned the bullet preventing any real damage. My few groceries and dried jerky had taken the hit. The upper point of my shoulder was  badly bruised , but there was no sign of bleeding and I swallowed the pain and looked no further.

Once again ,luck had saved my bacon, I should’ve never let blind anger take control of my actions. Looking back , I had been a fool to take on two killers with my gun pointed at the ground. I had to thank  Dad. He had really taught me well how to unlimber that Henry and point it like my finger with deadly accuracy. I was  accurate and fast with the Colt 44 pistol, but only at short range. My real love was that old Henry repeater my Dad had used fighting Indians right after the Civil War. Many were the successful hunting trips and now that Henry was saving my life as it had my Dad’s.

That Bay horse that I’d taken was dancing around, whinnying, and pulling at the reins, trying to follow his stable mates  and very unhappy about being left behind. I climbed into the saddle , slung my saddlebags in front of me and let that Bay catch up some with his mates. As I rode ,I thought back to Mom and Dad’s goodbye and take care of Charley. Mom had bottle fed him on goats milk when the mother mare died from milk fever. She had hand raised the colt , given him to me and here I’d got him killed. I knew that it wasn’t my fault, but I couldn’t help but feel responsible. I had been on my own now for two long and lonely years scraping by with town jobs and ranch work when I could get it. Things had not been easy , and  this was not the first shooting that I had been in since leaving home. Fist fights? Yes, I’d had a couple when I got pushed too far, but being a little smaller than average; I didn’t fare too well. My knocking about had given me some wooly experiences, but nothing compared to what I’d just been through. I was kinda surprised by my own action, I had not been afraid during that shoot out , just almost calm and detached. That worried me.

My anger had settled some but the violent activity and nervous reaction of the past hour and the loss of ol’Charlie left me drawn out and tired .I just wanted to crawl off somewhere and forget everything for awhile. I had no saddle or bed roll and I knew that I’d have to turn that Bay horse loose pretty soon or get accused  a horse thief if an owner showed up. I knew that being a Horse thief was an immediate hanging offence in this country and no one would give a stranger a chance to explain. No one had seen me close enough to recognize unless one of those two killers lived, so I planned to get close to a town or settlement and walk my way in and let things rest until I could see how things stood. I really needed to find some kind of work, because I was almost broke and I needed a horse and saddle to even begin to look. I would love to keep one of these horses and the riggin,. I was sure entitled to take my pick , but I knew better than to try and take ownership . It would be my word against known locals and I had no doubt who would lose.

I also wondered who this Goodwin was that the JD bunch was trying to kill. I’d have to keep my eyes open for any kind of information, because I couldn’t afford to ask questions. The four loose horses in front of me were heading home at a trot and the miles were going by pretty fast. My canteen was still on my saddle up in the mountains and I needed a drink pretty bad. The horses had just topped a hill in front of me and there below lay the weathered buildings and layout of a town. A railroad siding held some empty stock cars  and a locomotive was blowing steam and just pulling down the tracks  outta town. What grabbed my attention was the water tower and fill spout there beside the railroad tracks. That spelled drinking water to me and here was where I headed. First though, I had to get rid of that Bay horse. I tied his reins to the saddle horn , stepped off with my saddlebags, and let him catch up with his mates. All five were outta sight in the trees within minutes. I was still a good mile out and I thought maybe I should have ridden in a little closer , those boots of mine were not made for walking and down hill was the very worst.

It seemed like an hour later that I come up on that water tower with the name CERBERT painted on it in big white letters, and sure enough there was a pull rope on the spout valve . I emptied one of my saddle bags, the one without the bullet holes ; and filled it with water. The water was a little dirty , but wet, cold and quieted my thirst .Spilling more over my head and down my bullet burned neck made me feel almost human again. I stripped outta that blood stained shirt and washed it out best I could. It felt pretty good wet after that long dry and hot ride. That saddle bag wouldn’t hold water for long but it sure