Johnny Hawk Werewolf Hunter

By S. M. Krantz

In the stillness of a Texas evening, the younger brother of Johnny Hawk is brutally murdered and the killer left two legged wolf tracks. The horrible death ultimately drives Johnny away from his family. He joins John Coffee Hayes’ Rangers to fight in the Mexican American War but the experience hardens Johnny even more. He remains in Texas, a vigilante hunter until fate brings young Victoria Bryan into his life. They go their separate ways, but Hawk can't stop thinking about her. A few years later a young Navajo girl Johnny is living with is brutally murdered in the same terrible manner his brother had been. Horrified Hawk vows to hunt down this killer but when Tori Bryan comes back into his life his worst fears are realized when she is taken hostage by a band of cutthroats that unknowingly has a werewolf as a key member. Hawk must face his childhood fears in order to rescue Tori from something he understands little of but knows death is the only cure. Along the way he learns true love does heal deep wounds.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781387210084

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Johnny Hawk Werewolf Hunter

Johnny Hawk Werewolf Hunter

S. M. Krantz

JOHNNY HAWK WEREWOLF HUNTER Copyright @ 2017 by S.M. Krantz

All rights reserved.

Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by:

Phoenixcosmopolitan LLC Publishers

For more information contact:

[e-mail]

ISBN   978-1-387-21008-4

First Edition: September 2017

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Prologue

1837 Texas

Mary Hawk heard the howling coming from out past the tree line. It was wolves, she was sure of that, and she was immediately worried about their meager stock of cattle. The spring calves were not yearlings yet and they made good targets for hungry predators. The snows had come early this fall and even though it was only the end of October snow was already piled up six, eight inches in places. She wondered if Jesse, her husband, heard them. He was at the barn finishing up fencing in the paddock area so they could bring their small herd in for the rest of the winter.

Out here, on the Texas prairie, alone and away from your closest neighbor on a ranch like their place, the sound of coyotes and wolves wasn't unusual. It could be an eerie lonesome sound, but it wasn't unusual.

But this was so early in the day. Standing in her kitchen Mary felt the air go still and quiet . . . she didn’t have to be outside to know that . . . everything was still.

Mary Hawk knew something was wrong, seriously wrong.

Their big black dog Shep, a great herding dog and very good guard dog to boot came running from the barn to the front porch and started whining. His tail was tucked down between his legs as he backed up to the front door and stared at the tree line past the barn.

What’s gotten into you? Mary said to the dog as she walked out onto the porch. She bent down and gave a scratch behind his ears and felt his body quivering. Mary wondered what on earth had scared him so bad.

The strange silence continued. There wasn’t even the sound of wind moving through the trees. She saw or heard nothing more and after a few more minutes she decided it was nothing to worry over and went back inside to finish her work.

The next day, after the family had eaten lunch, Mary brought the cake she’d made over to the table and stuck six candles down into the white icing and lit them. It was Johnny’s birthday, their youngest son. As he blew out the candles the family sang ‘Happy Birthday’ then they all ate cake. When she handed a wrapped package to Johnny, his older brothers Eddie and Michael were not happy that the package was so large.

I didn’t get something that big when it was my birthday, Michael, the eldest child at twelve and tall for his age, said.  All I ever get is work around here. He gets to play on his birthday. He never has to do anything.

Michael that’s not true, Mary scolded her oldest son.

Jess finished his coffee then said, Michael, I need you to help me finish that fence. You’re not a boy anymore son, soon to be thirteen, and growing into a man. Time you learn to do a man’s work.  The cattle are our livelihood. I promise that as soon as we’re done I’ll take you into town and get you that rifle you been wanting.

Mary shot him a look. She thought he was too young for that gun but kept her thoughts to herself

What about me pa? Eddie said, the middle child at nine years old.

Yeah, you too Eddie, you boys have been a big help to me. I tell you what, let’s all take a few hours off and help Johnny celebrate his birthday, shall we? Jesse said.

Everyone cheered. Johnny fingered his big package as his brothers stared at him glumly still not altogether happy with the situation.

What it is mommy? Johnny asked excitedly.

Why don’t you take it outside and open it up. She said smiling at him. I’ll be right along as soon as I get this cleaned up.

I’ll help you. Jesse said quietly to Mary. I want to see if Johnny can get that thing put together by himself. If not, we can both help him before I have to do the evening milking. They’ll be time enough tomorrow for us to work on the fence; it can wait one more day. He smiled down at her. And Michael is old enough for that gun.

She took his hand. I hope so. I’m happy Jesse but sometimes I worry about the jealousy between the boys. I hope that stops.

Sibling rivalry, it’s all pretty normal. He said.

It turned out to be a sunny warm afternoon, the snow was melting, the air was fresh and clean. Once outside, Johnny squatted down on the porch and tugged at the paper impatiently. His fingers were shaky with anticipation the wrapping was thick and heavy. He attacked the heavy paper faster, peeling it away in long, ragged strips only to reveal another brightly wrapped box. He tugged on the ribbon ends that held the lid closed and opened the box.

A barn-door kite! This was a miracle indeed! He thought. Running a careful finger over the kite and the reel of heavy string, he was thinking how much fun it was going to be to fly his new kite out in the open meadow behind their cabin.

Johnny was still sitting on the porch when Eddie and Michael came out the door. Eddie nudged his brother and pointed gleefully. They separated, grinning at each other, and pretended they were soldiers chasing after a renegade. Johnny would not have heard them anyway, so engrossed was he in attempting to tie the long tail line on his kite, getting it ready to fly.

What's that you've got, Johnny? Eddie shouted, pouncing.

Show us!

Yes, show us! Michael giggled, outflanking him.

Johnny clasped his treasure against his chest and shook his head.

No, it's mine! I got it for my birthday! He said defensively as Michael and Eddie usually took anything away from him that he really wanted.

Eddie said. Show us! We want to have a look. Pa said we’re taking some time off to celebrate your birthday so it’s for all of us! We don’t have a kite. That’s not fair!

Grudgingly Johnny held his new kite out so Eddie and Michael could see. Look, isn't it beautiful? Johnny said.

Let's see that. Michael said.

No! Johnny said and hugged it close again, tears forming in his eyes. No, this is mine, not yours!

Pooh! Michael said. His dirty brown hands locked about Johnny’s wrists, closing tightly. Want a Chinese burn? And don't be such a crybaby, or I'll tell Mom. He squeezed his skin in opposite directions until it stretched whitely. Gimme, or I'll do it really hard!

No! Don't, Michael! Johnny said. In spite of the cruel grip on his wrists he clung to his prize, howling and kicking. You’re gonna tear it! Johnny said his eyes glistening with tears.

Got it, Michael whooped. As the treasure slid out of Johnny’s hands into Michael’s, Eddie grabbed it out of his older brother’s hands then turned his back to deflect a blow from his fists. Then he took no other notice of either of them running off behind the cabin.  Not stopping Eddie continued on through the thick patch of woods before he came to another area in a clearing. It wasn’t fenced in he wasn’t even sure if it was part of their land. Eddie didn’t care. All he cared about was that this would be a great place to fly the kite and nobody knew where he was.

Eddie Hawk had wanted a kite for his birthday so badly, but he didn’t get one, instead he got new clothes. His mother said he was growing so fast, and of course, his clothes would be the hand-me–downs for Johnny. They were the ones who always got present’s, Michael as the oldest, Johnny the youngest, well not this time.

It was his kite now as Eddie feels it jerk and tug in his hands, like a live thing, he watches it dip and swoop in the deepening blue sky. He has lost all track of time in his pleasure, he forgot about going home, forgot about supper, and felt no concern that he was all alone in the clearing.

Daylight fades in advancing azure and indigo shades that begin to blanket the land and have finally made him realize he stayed too long. Now the moon, just rising over the woods at the edge of the clearing, was fat and bright and full in the sky.

Eddie begins winding the twine of the kite onto his ball as fast as he could, dragging the kite down out of the darkening sky. Worried and feeling uneasy he brings the kite down faster than he should. The breeze dies and the kite plunges rapidly to the ground and is left sticking out of tall buffalo grass that blankets the field. Eddie tugs on the string but the kite is stuck fast.

It is mid-September, a round full moon hangs low in the sky and the air is already cold. Eddie doesn't feel the cold or notice the full moon; he is only aware he has stayed too long, his father will surely yell at him . . . and Mom would be worried sick. He starts towards his kite, winding the string as he goes, glancing nervously over his shoulder. Eddie sees bushes at the fringe of the woods shake, then part open in the light of the moon. He hears a low noise, then a half-cough, half-snarl sound. 

A shattering roar fills the night air. Eddie Hawk screams, but his puny scream is drowned out under the terrible snarling roar that rose into a chilling wolf-like howl. A shaggy beast appears and throws its head upward to face the moon. It stands for a moment, seems to scent at the air . . . and then begins to shuffle through the tall grass, to where Eddie stands rolling up the string.

Nine year old Eddie is frozen to the spot. His eyes bulge from his face in fear as his mind tells him to desperately hide, fall down into the grass, hide, hide! His body does not react, he simple couldn’t move and he didn’t let go of his roll of twine either.

The creature is hunched over, but it is clearly walking on two legs. Walking the way a man would walk. Light from the moon skitters hellishly across its green eyes. As it moves, its wide nostrils flare rhythmically scenting prey; almost surely scenting its prey's weakness.

Eddie can smell a coppery bitter cinnamon odor coming from it. A grunt then another savage snarl and Eddie saw its thick upper lip shudder then, like a slab of raw meat, it curled up and folds back to reveal heavy long canine teeth. The beast is covered with animal like hair that looks dull but silvery in the moon-light.

Now barely ten feet away, Eddie sees it’s human-like hands with extended fingers, each ending in long sharp claws. Finally Eddie snaps out of his trance, he turns to run, but it’s too late as a heavy thick arm encircles him then he is pressed back into fur that smells like cinnamon.

When Eddie didn’t come home that night Jesse saddled his horse and searched the perimeter and adjoining land. Mary searched the immediate area and inside the barn, but when it got too dark there was no choice but to go back to their cabin, empty handed.

When questioned, Johnny told his father how Eddie had taken his kite and ran off with it, going past the barn and into the woods. The next morning as soon as the sun was up, Jesse was back out searching. When he found Eddie, the boy was propped up against a tree in the field past the wooded area, headless and disemboweled. The kite still fluttered in the grass not far away as if trying to fly off with every breeze that came up.

Jesse, so horrified at the sight could only guess at what might have done this. He argued with himself; was it a wolf? No couldn’t be, had to be human, it walked upright, a cannibalistic human. Impossible. It had to be some sort of animal. But what? 

Mary Hawk remained distraught and nearly went out of her mind with sorrow and her overwhelming feelings of guilt. She blamed Jesse for encouraging Johnny birthday. You didn’t watch the boys! She said. In turn Jesse blamed her for buying Johnny the kite. It was an endless cycle. Mary refused to eat and barely sipped water. Jesse refused to speak to her or care for the ranch. After more than a month Mary told Jesse she refused stay.

Jesse agreed with her, it was the only thing they’d agreed on. The family sold everything they owned except for the clothes on their backs and took the stage back to Missouri. There, with their two remaining two sons, the Hawk family would struggle to start a new life.

Chapter 1

New Mexico Territory September 1859

Proposition my ass. Johnny Hawk muttered. He’d been summoned to San Francisco by a high ranking Federal Marshal, name of Sam Penny. Penny had sent his wire to Fort Brown, Brownsville, Texas with a no choice proposition, come or be court martialed.

Hawk spent his time at the US Quartermaster’s Department in Brownsville. He was in charge of one thousand head of horses and mules coming out of Mexico and often assisted troops in immigrant protection against hostile Indians and Mexico nationals out of Texas after the Mexican American War. The work suited him.

Penny’s wire angered him. Hawk made the decision to ride alone to San Francisco so he’d have time to think things through and cool down. He needed his options open so he traveled light with only essentials, in case Penny asked for too much. If that happened then he’d leave. Nobody owned Johnny Hawk, he worked when he wanted and for whom he wanted.

He owned a good skinning knife which hung around his neck by a thong inside a leather pouch. His bowie knife was sheathed at his side as was his standard colt revolver. He also carried a .31 caliber small frame dragoon he stuck in the front of his belt, and a single action pistol in the back. A derringer was in the top pocket of his duster coat and on his side, hidden inside his coat, was a mare’s sawed off shotgun in a swing holster. A new pair of razors was in his saddle bag, along with a good shaving brush and one pair of extra socks with a set of clean clothes.

At six feet five inches tall and two hundred sixty pounds Johnny Hawk stood a half foot taller than most men. He had a lean muscular body toned from years of riding the open range with powerful muscular arms and broad shoulders. A black boss of the plains Stetson hat was pulled low over his tanned face accentuating light amber gold eyes. He wore his best clothes, black leather chaps over full length trousers, black leather boots, a blue linen shirt with low standing collar, a blue and black plaid vest, a black frock coat and a blue gray duster. He had a little over three hundred dollars he’d tucked into his money belt for safe keeping.

Although it was still daylight the dust hung in the sultry heat like a mile long curtain draped along the road, a full moon like a silver peso hung low over the looming Sierra Madres Mountains. At dusk, he stopped and after eating a brief meal he piled more wood on his campfire to keep the wolves, bears, and lions off him; as well as other things that might be prowling around. He picketed his horse, a blooded black stallion he called Blue close by then lay down on his bedroll and went to sleep.

At dawn he was in the saddle and on the trail before the sun was fully up. As the days passed Johnny had time for some reminiscences about his immediate past, and some bitter reflections about the way things were going, about things he couldn’t do much about.

Johnny Hawk was no stranger to conflict, military, or the law. At sixteen he had run away from his home in Missouri, after an awful fight with his father, Jesse Hawk. He had no intention of working his fingers to the bone as his brother Michael had decided to do, spending hours behind a plow and being browbeaten by his father. It seemed nothing could appease their father’s anger. Jesse, at first, blamed himself over Eddie’s death but when he couldn’t forgive himself and his hurting didn’t stop, Jesse started drinking and when that didn’t stop his hurting, he blamed his wife. When that didn’t stop his pain either, Jesse turned his rage on his sons. Johnny usually took the brunt of his anger, after all it had been his birthday and somehow that made it his fault that Eddie had died.

His parents never really told Johnny or Michael exactly how Eddie had died, just that he died with the kite he stole from Johnny. Johnny grew up burdened with the guilt over the death of his brother. He said some terrible things that day then he got on his horse and rode straight to Texas seeking glory, fame and adventure. Daunting and already standing at nearly his full height, young Hawk looked older than his age when he joined John Coffee Hays’ volunteer Regiment of Texas Rangers, where all men were armed to the teeth carrying pistols, knives and revolvers tucked into boots, belts and shirts. But Johnny never got over his guilt.

Hawk spent his seventeenth birthday in the company of death as Mexico City fell September of 1847, seventeen months after the bloody war began. It had been a bitter dose of reality for young Hawk as more than twenty thousand Mexicans and five thousand Americans lay dead. When the treaty was signed February 2, 1848, at the palace of Guadalupe-Hidalgo, four miles north of Mexico City, Mexico received fifteen million dollars to relinquish one third of its land to the United States, New Mexico Territory and California, in a treaty known as the Gadson Purchase. The war had ended, but was far from over.

When Hays Rangers left Matamoros, Mexico, in August of 1848, their reputation preceded them. Entire villages emptied out in panic from the news of their approach. Famed horseback fighters, they had a come and go brazenness, gave no mercy and never surrendered. Most of the men went back to their wives and families, but a few, like Johnny Hawk had no welcoming family to go home to. He remained in Texas, daring and wild; muscular and young, mentally mature, cunning, but very angry. He’d left behind that sixteen year old sheltered abused farm boy from Missouri. Changed by the war, Hawk was lethal, ruthless, a very dangerous man who feared nothing, and owed no allegiance to anyone.

Anyone who knew Johnny Hawk knew he was a dead shot with either carbine or revolver. Give him a knife and he’d cut the throat of his opponent before he knew what happened. The idea of living on the edge always appealed to his wild side, of not knowing if each moment was going to be his last and he found that exhilarating. Cheating death, when all the odds were against it, and the knowing when something isn’t right was what counted.

As he rested his horse at a spot high in the pines he pulled out his Bull Durham sack, rolled a long thin cigarette, lit it then took a drag of the soothing tobacco. He hadn’t been with a woman in three years, not that he didn’t like women, he loved them and enjoyed sex, he just didn’t socialize with women of the night, dance hall girls; painted cats. Good women didn’t fornicate with Rangers and Johnny didn’t want anything to do with the clap. The women that always hung around the Brownsville post were, for the most part, not his type. But where he was headed it would be hard to resist, Pacific Avenue, the Barbary Coast, the most notorious red light district in San Francisco and known for some of the most beautiful and fanciest painted cats and lewdest women in the northwest.

Finally reaching San Francisco after nearly three long dusty weeks on the trail he found the traffic brisk—ranch wagons and buckboards, long jerk-line outfits unloading mining machinery from steamers, riders, smart looking buggies and surreys all coming and going on the busy dusty streets. Mexicans, even a few Indians along with miners, gamblers, and well-to-do fancy dressed to impress ladies holding dainty umbrella’s on the arm of a well-dressed man crowded the sidewalks. Horses, mules and donkeys lined the hitch racks. Ships creaked and groaned along the waterfront and a man could feel the thump of the mooring through his boot soles, always there but unnoticed, like the beat of a heart. 

Dance halls, saloons, and brothels were segregated to some degree, miners hanging out in their chosen places, soldiers and stockmen in others, sailors had cause to take care in any because of the art of shanghaiing. Many a sailor woke up after a night's leave to find himself unexpectedly on another ship bound for some faraway port. Crime in the streets and corruption in the government offices plagued San Francisco with its ratio of two men for every woman.

Johnny rented a room at the Plaza Mark Hotel on Montgomery Street and got settled in, hoping to see a little of the city before he met Penny tomorrow. When he walked down into the lobby intending to find a restaurant where he could get a good rare slab of beef steak, he heard a woman’s voice high pitched in anger. When he looked he saw all the commotion through the open door. As the young woman stood on the boardwalk alongside the stage that had stopped in front of the hotel, a small crowd had gathered around the pretty dark-haired girl dressed in a light blue skirt with a blue and white vest, wearing a white bonnet. She was angrily arguing with a man who was trying to prevent her from getting into the coach.

This is the wrong coach ma’am, unless you want to end up in Fort Smith.  He said preventing her from getting on board with his outstretched arm. Johnny assumed he was the driver.

I do not wish that. She said conviction and distain in her voice. Whatever do you mean, I paid for my fare to Tucson and this, I believe sir, is an outbound coach!  It was obvious she was quite furious.

The driver paused long enough to glance at the woman. Yes ma’am, this here stage is getting ready to depart and head north, not southwest. You have to catch a different stage in order to get to Yuma.

I have my ticket! Is this the proper ticket for that stage then? She said sighing.

No ma’am. You have to have a ticket for the Section Two stage into the Arizona interior. The driver said.

Then may I exchange this ticket? She said in an aggravated tone.

No ma’am, you have to buy a different ticket. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to get going.

But…but I don’t have enough money to buy another ticket! It’s already cost me two hundred dollars, now I have a useless ticket! My fare on the steamer was more than that and my funds are limited, now please let me board, I’m so tired. She said wearily.

Because she was upset she had drug her bonnet off her head and her thick brunette hair fell in ringlets past her shoulders.

This here stage is going in the wrong direction. The driver said sighing. Look, go talk to them at the ticket office, the man said, in there. He nudged his chin in the direction where Johnny stood.

Where? She said.

He sighed again. In there. He pointed to the hotel door.

Where is my luggage? She demanded.

Right there, ma’am. The driver pointed to the sidewalk. Now if you’ll excuse me.

It all better be there. She said defensively, threateningly.

Johnny stepped outside then and slowly walked past her, sparing her a small glance, that firecracker was certainly might pretty he decided, even prettier without the bonnet hiding her hair.

You sir, she said to the driver, Are a brute of a man. With a swish of her skirts she pushed forward without looking and bumped into Johnny. 

Oh! Excuse me. She said.

Ma’am, Hawk said tipping his hat. I couldn’t help but overhear. The ticket office is inside this building. Go to the front desk. I believe the next southwest bound stage should be leaving within an hour or so. Tell them what happened. You might get your money back, or at least be able to exchange your ticket, depending on the ticket master.

Thank you, She said then looked up at him, closely. He had golden amber eyes, she thought, and my how tall he was. You’re a gentlemen and that seems to be in short order around here.

Johnny smiled at that assumption. Here, I’ll go in with you and see to it you get the right ticket. You’ll have to change coaches before you get to Yuma into a mud wagon. It’ll be a rougher ride. As they walked back outside after Johnny made certain the ticket master changed her ticket he said. It’s none of my business but Arizona interior is in on the frontier ma’am, and as such can be very violent at times. Are you traveling alone?

She looked at him a few moments before answering. You’ve been very gracious to me sir so I will answer you. Yes, I am alone, but I have someone meeting me in Yuma.

Hawk looked at her long and hard for a moment. A frown of worry crossed his face. He didn’t feel right about leaving her alone. He tipped his hat and said, I sincerely hope you have a nice trip ma’am and if I might give a piece of advice? Don’t wear any jewelry or carry any obvious cash on your person that someone can see. You’re very attractive and obviously very female, the men in that part of the country . . . well some of them haven’t seen a woman for months. And someone like you . . . they’d eat you up. Hawk said.

Someone like me? Sir, just what are you implying? I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. Now if you’ll excuse me. She said testily pushing past him.

Not implying anything ma’am, simply stating fact. With that he walked across the street and into Jims Steakhouse, where he sat down at a table next to a window and watched her. He ordered a beer and a rare steak.

She sure was pretty, quite young and of some breeding too, he thought, a beautiful girl, small, exotic looking, like royal from some foreign country. That thick dark unruly hair of hers framed her small pretty face. She had an absolutely flawless complexion which certainly accentuated those wonderfully clear enormous eyes, too big for her face—wide as a winter sky, round,