The Buchanans: Storm

By Carlene Keim

Meet Storm Buchanan, a powerful man, who wants no entanglements in his personal life. Needless to say, love is the last thing on his mind. His efforts to stay clear of ladies are tested when his search for bank robbers gets intertwined with Amanda Brennans search for her brother. Not the typical Eastern lady, Amanda isnt deterred by the word No, or by the formidable man delivering the message. Her temper matches her red hair and she doesnt mind being the nuisance in Storms mission to solve an unusual series of bank robberies and murder.

Wrapped with unpredictable twists and erratic turns, The Buchanans: Storm is a fast-paced saga that takes the reader through an intermingling of hilarious, exciting, romantic, and heart wrenching experiences. Entertaining from the first page to the last, it tells how love can bloom in odd places and unusual times.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 8, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456880583

Carlene Keim

Carlene Keim and her husband, Bruce, live in Syracuse, Nebraska. They enjoy their three grown children; Brian, Rebecca, and Tim. Carlene graduated from Midland College in 1972 with a BS in Elementary Education and a BA in Music K-12. She and her husband have traveled extensively all over the world. Her love of travel stems from having taught geography in Junior High. She taught for the Papillian / LaVista Schools, the Unadilla Schools and subbed for the Syracuse Schools. Illness took her away from teaching. She now does volunteer tutoring and mentoring at Syracuse High School giving her time for her love of writing.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

TEXAS, 1868

I got ya, and ya know it. I shot ya dead! the young toe-headed boy in dusty play-worn suspendered pants squealed.

Did not! Never even come close! his irritated older brother retaliated. Now get back here with that badge. It’s my turn to be the ranger.

Ya don’t play fair. I’m telling Pa. He’ll make you do it right.

Yeah! Well, ya just go right on in there and do that, the older brother knowingly scoffed. And make sure ya tell him who took the badge out of his vest pocket to play this here game of yours!

The bluster went out of the younger brother’s sails at that statement. They were never allowed to play with their father’s personal things. He kept his badge and any important papers in his vest pocket. "Do not touch it!" was a strictly enforced rule.

Well,—the younger brother’s big toe made designs in the dirt as he looked down at it in worried thought—maybe I’ll let ya off this time. He raised his youthful face with determination. But from now on, when I outdraw ya, fall down dead like you’re supposed to.

The heck you outdrew me! came an outraged reply. I drew my gun and still had me plenty a time to go eat supper and help Ma get the wash water ready for the dishes ‘fore you even cleared leather. You draw like a girl, the older one taunted as he unflatteringly imitated his brother’s draw with the sticks their creative minds imagined to be the best six-shooters around.

Take that back! the younger boy screamed while diving at his tormentor’s legs.

The dust churned in the air as the two tumbled around the ranch yard, grappling in anger.

Two strong arms seemed to come out of nowhere and lift the boys like rag dolls. Their feet still fought for the traction of the ground. Slowly, they were lowered to the safety of the straw strewn earth below. With a little shake to the older one’s shoulder, John Buchanan’s powerful voice reverberated in the boys’ ears. "Thaddeus Storm Buchanan, I expect you to take care of things when I’m gone. Not act like the disruptive weather you got your nickname from the night you were born! You’re twelve years old, boy. How can I trust you to care for your ma and your little brother, Cole, if you two are gonna be fighting like roosters all the time?"

Storm’s sweaty, dust-covered face looked up at the irritated face of the father he greatly admired while his mind reeled with dismay at the implication. It weren’t no real fight, Pa. We were just havin’ a little fun, weren’t we, Cole? His piercing eyes communicated his threat toward his eight-year-old brother, who appeared ready to spill the beans.

Cole connected with Storm’s stare but still hesitated. I . . . ah . . . guess so. Cole’s lack of conviction focused his brother’s murderous glare his direction. Seeing it, he quickly responded, "Yeah, that’s right. It was just fun, Pa. We just must have forgot that!"

Their father raised an amused eyebrow at the answer. "That so! Well, you two best not forget that again. His vision fell to a shiny object glistening amid the churned-up dirt. That wouldn’t be my badge lying over there, would it?" His eyes narrowed to slits.

Cole’s eyes grew round with fear. But his reply was cut short. I—

"We was gonna surprise ya, Pa, Storm cut in. I took it out of your pocket to shine it up real good for ya. Cole was gonna help me, weren’t you, Cole?"

After a moment of confused silence, Cole burst forth with enlightenment. "That’s right, Pa. Real bright!" Cole was impressed with his brother’s quick thinking. Maybe the guy was worth something as a big brother after all.

John’s cheeks hurt from the pressure he had to apply to his teeth to rein in his laughter. It angered him that the two were as guilty as sin and wouldn’t admit it. But it made him feel good that the boys forgot their differences and joined together as brothers for a common interest. His ranger badge had been the cause of many conflicts throughout the years. "Looks to me like you best start over; it appears to be a might smudged, he instructed sternly. When you’re done, get yourselves over to the house. I’ve got something I want to tell you and your ma." With that said, he headed back to the house, leaving the boys to do his bidding.

Ya mean it, Pa? You’re really quitting the rangers? an amazed Storm questioned his father.

I really am, he confirmed with a smile. As soon as I tie up the loose ends on this last assignment, I’ll be coming home to stay. I waited to tell you and your ma until the dangerous part was over. The whole gang’s been caught. All that’s left is the trial and the hanging. Then in a week or so, I’ll be back, and we’ll get this ranch growing by leaps and bounds. I’ll finally get to spend lots of time with you two and your ma.

John put his arm around his wife, Susan and gave her a squeeze. Just like she’s been wanting. He reached down and ruffled the boy’s hair. You two will be running a fine spread one day. Together, we’ll see to that.

The boys’ eyes glimmered in hope as they watched their tall powerfully built father and their petite loving mother stroll out to the porch, hand in hand. Their eyes gleamed with thoughts of their future life together at last.

It was a dream come true for Storm and Cole. They loved the time they had with him, but it was always cut short by some mission the rangers would be sent on. Sometimes, he’d be away for months at a time, leaving their mother behind to worry herself sick. Storm could recall waking up many nights to the sound of her tears. Emotions she never showed during her waking hours. That wasn’t her way. She remained strong through turmoil as women of her ilk did settling this country. Storm spent the next few days imagining all the great times he and Cole would have helping their father get the ranch built up to the quality his father had been discussing. He could hardly sleep with all the anticipation flying through his head.

The night before he left, John peaked through the bedroom door to check on the boys before going to bed. He had to smile to himself with pride at the rate the two had been growing and taking on more chores. John felt the same excitement as the boys when he looked ahead to his final homecoming. Good-bye, boys, I’ll be home soon, he whispered. With that said, he mentally admired the fine sons he had and quietly left the room.

Before the sun shown the next morning, he was leaving. A feeling of being watched entered his body while he turned back toward the house to take a final look. There, in the tiny bedroom window of the loft, two young faces battled for a better view in the small available space. Finally, the window opened, and two cherubic hands waved a frantic farewell to their father. That was an image implanted in John’s mind causing him to chuckle about it for miles.

The smoke lifted in the capacity-filled courtroom as the outside doors were opened and fresh air flushed out the stale stench from within. Five silhouettes were framed in the doorway by the morning sun. Two Texas Rangers brought in all three members of the infamous Tanner Gang who had been responsible for more murders and robberies than any other gang before them. John Buchanan was the lead ranger on this case and one of the marshals leading the group into the courtroom. The proceedings were just for the sake of justice. Everyone knew what they looked like and what they had done. Once they pronounced them guilty, which they would, they would hang.

John watched the three standing in the area designated for the defendants. They leaned against the rail in an arrogant stance with smug, nonrepentant smirks painted on their face. He found himself daydreaming about how good it would feel to personally knock that leer off each and every one of their faces. But unfortunately, his job was to uphold the law and show people how to behave correctly. It sure gave him great satisfaction just thinking about it though. John smiled at his secret indulgence.

The judge took his seat, and the proceeding began. Witnesses finally felt they could take the stand without fear of reprisal since the whole gang had been caught. One by one, they stated the awful accounts they came across after the gang left the area. No witnesses at the scene were ever left alive to testify as to what they did to the hostages they took. But the bodies left behind spoke volumes. These men deserved a first-class ticket to hell, and John intended to see they got there.

Their lawyer presented their case. The people’s voices spoke louder. The jury was out for mere minutes before they returned with a verdict. The judge asked the jury foreman, How find you in the case of the state verses the defendants?

The tall middle-aged sun-worn man rose, hat in hand. We find the defendants guilty, Your Hon— Before the last word cleared his lips, a bullet formed a volcanic crater in the middle of his forehead. His eyes had a dead stare of disbelief, then nothing.

John and the other ranger spun with their guns drawn scanning for the shooter before the foreman’s body even hit the floor. The commotion of people trying to hide or get out of the building made it difficult to see who and where the shooter was. As he moved toward the wall, he saw a red headed man putting a small pistol into the pocket of his jacket. He pointed his gun and called out for him to stop. As he began to turn with his hands away from his body, John suddenly felt a sharp, burning pain in his back that caused him to freeze in place. The man used this time to run out the door. The burning pain began to spread throughout his back as he began having difficulty breathing. Feeling somewhat faint, he reached out for the floor as he twisted forward toward it. A sharp sting ripped into his thigh, which he knew was a gunshot. Blood flowed freely down his leg while he continued his final descent to the floor. With this shot, he knew that he definitely had a bullet in his back, and now one lodged in his leg. From the floor, he could see that the three gang members were all armed. Evidently, one of them had a friend who smuggled some guns to them. All he had to do was cause the attention to shift away from the men and toward the back of the courtroom so the gang could arm themselves unnoticed. From that point on, a barrage of shots started flying everywhere as the gang members opened fire trying to make their way through the courtroom to the freedom of the outdoors.

The breeze tussled the top of the boys’ heads while their mournful gazes watched the pine box being lowered slowly into the ground. The ropes squeaked as they rubbed against the wooden boards laid at the sides of the freshly dug grave.

Storm’s head was bowed along with his brothers while he thought about the past. It hardly seemed possible that just three weeks before, they happily waved good-bye to their father’s retreating figure. The larger-than-life man told them when he returned, it would be for good. He’d been right; he’d never leave their ranch again.

Storm grabbed hold of his mother’s arm, giving her additional support as she sagged against Hue Packert. He’d come here to help bury his friend and partner in the rangers. Slowly, she was helped back to the house where neighbors waited to serve the traditional post service meal. He watched his mother’s dreams get buried with his father. She was strong, and she’d prevail, but for the time being, she needed to pour her sorrow out of her devastated soul before she could pick up the pieces and go on.

Cole followed the group into the house, but Storm drifted to a nearby grove of trees. He peered across the ranch land that just weeks ago gave him a heady sensation for life. Now the breeze tipped the leaves in a solemn and lonely wake. Storm sat huddled beneath the old tree he and John used to have their father-son conversations. Never again would they sit here together on this very spot and discuss the future of their land and lives. Devastation pulsed through Storm’s body threatening to rip it apart. His head was tucked between his arms, which rested on his knees when his father’s partner found him hours later.

You best be getting back to the house, young man. Your ma’s getting a might worried about you. He patted the boy’s shoulder. She’s had a rough enough time without you adding to her worry. You’re going to have to be the man of the house now, son.

But the men that done it are still out there somewhere. The anguish showed in his swollen, red, watery eyes while he stared up at Hue.

Yes, son, they surely are. But we’ll get them; you can count on that! Hue reassured the boy with a comforting squeeze to his shoulder.

When I grow up, I’ll round up every last outlaw there is in the whole world all by myself. He wiped at his tears with his shirtsleeve as he struggled to get his words out. "Pa’s badge is mine now. I’ll need it when I get to be a ranger."

That’d make your pa proud, boy. But right now, you best stay with your ma. She needs you more than ever under the circumstances.

Storm nodded in agreement while he rose to walk alongside the burly man.

His eyes caught those of his mothers when he entered the house. The once-joyful orbs now reflected a hollowness of shock and loss. Storm swore to himself that he’d never put a good woman like his mother through such torment. No lady should have to go through what she’d been through. He was going to follow in his pa’s footsteps as a ranger. Only he’d give up having a wife and family for their sake.

CHAPTER 1

TEXAS, 1886

Ohoo weee! Looks like we got us a pretty law dog trapped down there. A crude, laughing heckle came from above. Ya rangers are all alike. Ya think everyone’s afraid of ya. Well, ya figured wrong. I ain’t scared of no yellow-bellied lawman. Ya’ll be buzzard bait by evenin’," the same voice came boldly from the wooded area above the clearing.

Gun in hand, Storm Buchanan strained his eyes against the glare of the sun while he scanned the tree line for a target. He’d been ambushed and pinned down by the outlaws he was tracking. The McGinnus brothers had been a scourge on honest people throughout the territory for years. He finally got a lead on them and planned to get them stopped once and for all. You talk pretty brave when you’re hiding behind a tree! Storm shouted. Why don’t you come down here and say that to my face?

Ain’t no call to waste my time. You couldn’t handle me any how, came a boastful voice followed by male laughter.

Storm kept his eyes searching the hillside as he spoke. Finally, he spotted a movement in the brush above the rise. The edge of a hat began to appear. He aimed his shot to where he assumed the torso of the outlaw would be and fired. The sound of the blast was followed closely by a cry of pain. Soon, a body tumbled out of the brush, cascading down the hillside.

There was a moment of silence before a voice shouted, Jesse, was that Luke that got his self shot?

Sure was, Hank! a shocked voice answered. That damned ranger done killed our brother.

"You’re a dead man, law dog! the irate outlaw yelled at Storm. Jesse and me are gonna make ya wish ya was never born."

Storm tried to keep the outlaw talking. If he could just figure out where the sound was coming from, he might be able to get him too. He decided to blister the outlaw’s ego and lure him out in the open. I still say you’d hide behind your ma’s skirts if she were here, Storm scoffed. You don’t have the guts to take me in a fair fight.

"Ya talk a might big for someone who’s about to die."

You don’t rightly scare me much, Hank, Storm pressed further. Adding with a laugh, "Yellow’s never been a color I favored much."

Ya gonna let him talk to you like that, Hank? Jesse spat out. The pressure was already getting to the cocky outlaw. Don’t no one talk to us that way. Want I should go down there and try to get him from behind?

"He’s just trying to bait us, boy. Hank pushed him back with disgust. Ya sit your ass down, I’ll handle the likes of him myself." Jesse reluctantly did what he was told but didn’t seem convinced. As the conversation continued, his temperament was tested further.

What’s the matter? Storm knowingly continued to irritate him. You fellows too scared to talk to me? Cat got your tongues?

With that said, Jesse jumped up from his cover with his guns in hand. Ya yellow-bellied liar. I’ll give ya a— But his sentence was never finished on this earth. Storm’s deadly bullet hit him before he could even pull the trigger. His eyes bulged in shock as his callused, filthy hand clutched his chest. Blood gurgled from his mouth while his expression of impending doom grew. He looked toward Storm just before he plunged to the unforgiving rocks below.

Hank watched helplessly from his hiding place with disbelief. Jesse! he shouted. His eyes never left his fallen brother’s back for several minutes. Finally, realization and anger flooded his weathered face. The veins in his neck bulged with all the hatred he now felt for this ranger. "Ya son of a bitch! I’ll make you pay even if I got ta follow ya to hell to do it," he raged.

What, more talk, Hank? Storm continued to taunt. "You just gonna bore me to death with all your yappin’ or are you gonna come on down here and face me like a man?"

I’m more man than any ranger I ever seen, came an acrimonious reply.

Don’t appear so to me. I haven’t seen your ugly face yet! Storm chuckled loudly. "All I hear is your mamma’s boy threats. If your brothers were still breathing, they’d be taking a good look at their brave, bigmouthed leader, questioning your skills. I bet their eyes would be on you right now, wondering if you had the nerve. But we know the answer to that now, don’t we?" He smirked.

Beads of perspiration grouped like pearls above Hank’s upper lip. Just shut your damn mouth, ranger. It ain’t gonna work. Irritation and a touch of uncertainty began to appear in his voice. Ya ain’t fooling nobody with your tricks!

You’re so afraid of me that you want to make me believe you think this is a trick. Storm laughed, feeling his plan working. Hell, I don’t have to trick you, you ignorant bastard. You’re not good enough to outdraw a school boy, yet alone me!

I’m getting pretty tired of your dirty lawman’s bragging. I ought to teach you a lesson and march right down there, ya damn law dog. His laugh lacked some of its previous bravado. Then we’d see who’s lying facedown in the dirt.

Fine by me! Pleased with the success of his scheme, he goaded on, So what’s stopping you? Your hands starting to shake?

Not ‘cause of scum like you. After a few moments of silence, Storm’s plan took hold. Holster your gun and move slow like into the clearing! the outlaw shouted. I’ll do the same. I got no call to shoot ya outright when I can get the pleasure of seeing your eyes pop out when my bullet tears into you. You don’t scare me none.

"You’ve been saying that a lot. Who you trying to convince, me or you?"

Storm wouldn’t trust the outlaw for a second normally. But the man’s big ego was going to hold him to his word. He moved assuredly yet with some caution, toward the emerging desperado. His steely eyes never left the man’s face.

As the bandit stared into the icy glare of the six-foot-four ranger, his eyes slid down to the man’s low slung gun belt with a tie-down on his thigh. This was a man who knew how to handle a gun. And by the wear on the holster, he’d done so many times. A moment of fear registered visibly in Hank’s expression.

I’ll give you one final chance. You can give it up now and come with me peacefully. Or you can die here, Storm stated in a low powerful voice.

The outlaw’s face showed his questioning of his decision about facing Storm. He saw no fear in the ranger’s face. It was just locked in a cold calculating stare. Hank felt moisture growing on his palms. A shutter raced through his spine as he made his final mistake.

CHAPTER 2

About time you dragged your ass back to headquarters, Buchanan. What took you so long? Hue Packert gestured to the younger ranger to sit. Hue was a good old cuss, in his early fifties, graying hair and a slightly rounded belly that he acquired after he stopped riding the trail and started heading the rangers. He had been a trusted friend to the family throughout the years following Storm’s father’s death and guided him into the rangers when he turned eighteen. After Storm had worked with them for five years, Hue was appointed as head of the Texas Rangers. He was the best there was in his field and normally a patient mentor, but when he got his dander worked up, you’d better pay attention. "In my younger days, I’d have had that gang rounded up in a couple of days." He snipped.

I know, Hue, and with one hand tied behind your back, no doubt. Storm chuckled as he plopped down in a comfortable chair in Hue’s office, throwing his booted feet on the desk.

Hue shook his head with frustration, waving his hand in dismissal as he snorted, I don’t have time for all this jabbering. I’m being pressured by the higher-ups to get another case wrapped up. I need you on it right away. That means yesterday! So restock your gear and get going.

Hell no! Storm tiredly shot back. I’m planning on soaking in the tub all day with a good cigar. Then I’m paying a little visit to Rose’s to remind myself all my parts still work. He grinned, giving Hue that you know what I mean look. Hue’s stern glare forced Storm to push his argument further. I’ve been on the trail a long time, two miserable months. You know damn well I’m in need of a little relaxation. Believe me, if the area’s still profitable for them, those crooks won’t decide to up and leave before I get there.

Thaddeus ‘Storm’ Buchanan, you listen to me now. I realize it’s been a long rough time. But I wouldn’t pressure you if it weren’t so important.

Storm straightened up to Hue’s use of his full name. Hue was like the father he’d lost so many years before. He’d do anything for the man even if it meant giving up his own life.

Noticing he had Storm’s full attention, Hue continued, "A lot of good people are being hurt by this every day. The big wigs are on my case for justice. Therefore, I’m forced to order you out immediately if I have to."

Well, hell! Storm bit out as he rose from the chair to leave. Can I at least grab a beer to wet my throat? If you’re going to take all the good stuff away from me, at least give me that. He turned back to Hue and pointed. I’m putting it on your tab too. I think you owe me, Storm stated with growing annoyance. "Hell, I didn’t realize I was the only ranger in this entire country."

"You just happen to be the best, Storm. And the best is what we’re going to have on this case." With that statement made, Hue turned and left Storm standing alone in the office muttering his dislike of the circumstances.

CHAPTER 3

BOSTON, 1886

Come on, girls, let’s get back to the school. Our work here is done, the headmistress announced delightedly to the young ladies of the DeVille Finishing School.

Amanda looked around the room with growing exhilaration. It was sure to be the best cotillion they’d ever had. Society’s best would be there. Excitement reigned as the girls helped Boston’s leading socialite, Gloria VanderHaus, raise money for the charity event.

All the way back to the dormitory, Amanda dreamt of her beautiful golden gown and how it would look as she entered the room. She’d even practiced some of her demure looks in front of the mirror in her room when she was alone. Amanda didn’t consider herself vain, but it was so hard to concentrate on anything else with so many beautiful things surrounding her.

Her escort for the evening was considered one of the city’s most eligible young bachelors. He had been taking an inordinate amount of interest in her as of late, but after he heard her brother hadn’t paid the bills at the school lately, he’d been rather cool to her. Even that couldn’t dampen her spirits. Pity him when he saw her in her golden gown. He wouldn’t be able to have a cool air about him then. Although the other girls swooned over him, he never really set her heart to flutter. Maybe she hadn’t seen what they had in him yet. But that would come in time; she was sure.

Amanda planned on having a wonderful time at the luxurious affair no matter who took her. She gazed back at the ballroom, losing herself in daydreams of the dancing and socializing the event would ensure.

Ms. Brennan! Excuse me, Ms. Brennan. A wiry little man scurried up to her. I have a telegram for you from the detective you asked me to have check on your brother, Jack. Mr. Kirby, the attorney assigned by her parents’ will to look after her affairs while she was attending school in Boston, handed her the paper. I think you should read it and reply at once.

With shaking hands, she took the telegram and read through it. "Oh my! She looked up at the little man. Tell him I’ll be leaving at once to check on this myself," Amanda spoke as in a trance.

But, Ms. Brennan, you can’t possibly be thinking of going all the way out there alone! the attorney squeaked in astonishment. "Texas is so far away. You absolutely cannot go alone. It’s . . . it’s unacceptable!"

She didn’t know where the usually timid man’s sudden confidence came from. She could only think it was from his complete shock of what he considered her immediate disregard for propriety. Either way, it didn’t matter. Her brother could need her, and she would be there for him. Nonsense, my brother has a home and friends there; they’ll see to my safety once I arrive, Amanda spoke with more strength of conviction than she felt. And I’m more apt to get information about his disappearance if I’m not surrounded by a huge entourage of strangers.

All that may be true. But it’s not proper for you to— He didn’t get to finish the statement when Amanda cut in.

Remember who pays you for your services, Mr. Kirby! My brother could be quite upset with you for keeping me from him!

Very well then, I’ll see to the arrangements immediately. Good day, Ms. Brennan, her attorney stammered as he spun on his heels showing his indignation and left the room.

Was traveling out here such a good idea? Amanda wondered as she looked out at the desolate land rolling by. Her gaze moved to the sweaty, dust-covered passengers that accompanied her on this arduous journey. The banker, directly across from