The Ballad of Randall Redd

By Dan Zahn

Randall Redd’s image turns up on a wanted poster accusing him of a murder he did not commit. On his journey to find the actual killer, he encounters many obstacles along the way, among which is a tenacious bounty hunter and the U.S. Cavalry. The events that unfold lead to a tough kind of prairie justice.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669806318

Dan Zahn

DAN ZAHN has been a portrait artist, a singer/songwriter, a touring musician and a teacher. He spent many years as a cartographer, worked on a survey crew and has clung to the handrail of a 1940 vintage tugboat during a gale on Lake Michigan. He is an avid fly fisherman and has written two novels. Many of his short stories are based on his own true life experiences.

Book preview

ONE

Randall Redd stood on the porch of his cabin surveying the dry Kansas landscape through his new tinted spectacles. The sun was low but still bright in the late afternoon sky.

Off in the west rose a small cloud of dust. It was hard to judge how fast it was moving but as it drew closer he could see that it was a lone rider hell-bent for leather.

Brewster McKee sped past the gate and leapt from the saddle. The young man always brought a smile to Randall’s face but today there was something serious in the lad’s eyes. The kid stumbled twice in his haste to reach the porch.

You okay, Brew?

The boy took a moment to catch his breath and brush his sandy colored hair from his eyes.

Yessir, uh, no sir. I mean, uh … There’s trouble, Mr Redd, big trouble.

Over the years these two had grown as close as if they were actually father and son. Still, Brew couldn’t bring himself to call this man by his first name, it was always, Mr. Redd.

Well, now, set yerself down here on the step and try to calm down.

Brew took a couple of deep breaths as Randall stepped off the porch and stood in front of the boy, his bulk blocking the sunlight. The older man was barrel-chested with heavily muscled arms and broad shoulders that were the result of years of hard work.

At last the boy collected himself and was able to speak, I was over at Brennan’s Saloon in Ellsworth when a couple of soldiers came in. They was on their way to Ft. Harker. They said they’d been ridin’ long ‘n hard and they needed somethin’ to drink.

Nothin’ earth shakin’ about that, Brew, said Randall."

No sir, the boy continued. They said they had some orders for a captain at Ft. Harker about lookin’ fer a man who killed the son of some army general in Illinois. They had some wanted posters with them and I grabbed one.

The boy paused again and took another deep breath as he fished the folded piece of paper out of his shirt pocket. He unfolded it and held it up for Randall to see.

Redd looked over the top of his brand new spectacles at the face on the wanted poster. He was looking at a drawing of himself. The poster read, WANTED, DEAD OR ALIVE, RANDALL REDD.

TWO

Where are these soldiers now? Randall said.

Well, they was gettin’ mighty drunk, mighty fast and started headin’ upstairs with a couple whores. I heard one say that any business other ‘n the girls could wait till tomorrow.

Brewster McKee had a lot of respect for Randall Redd. Randall had come to the boy’s aide when lightening struck the McKee’s home and left it a pile of ashes. Brew’s parents died in that fire and it was Randall who pulled the unconscious boy from the flames. That was four years ago and since that time Brew lived with Randall and his wife, Willa. During the last year Randall built a one room shack next to the barn so the boy could have some privacy.

It seemed like a silly question when the boy looked up and asked, It wasn’t you who done it, Mr. Redd … Was it?

Brew! You know better than that. I’m not a killer. Hell, I’ve never even been in Illinois.

Randall drew a deep breath and shoved his big hands into his pockets. They were strong hands, worn and scarred from the work that made them strong. He looked down at Brew and said, Not a word to Willa about this. I’ll tell her myself after supper. I’m sure it’s all some kind of mistake anyway. You run along and get cleaned up. I reckon supper ‘ll be ready soon.

As he stood there alone Randall thought about his dilemma. If he knew soldiers, he thought, the ones in Ellsworth would be busy with the whores until they passed out from the booze so they wouldn’t even get to the fort until sometime tomorrow. He knew what he must do and he would tell Willa after supper. This was not going to go well.

Wilhelmina Redd was all a man could hope for in a wife. She was pretty, blue eyed, blonde, hard working and a great cook to boot. Out here on the plains a woman also had to be tough and Willa was tough as nails.

They met in New Orleans and fell in love almost instantly. They were married only two months later. That was five years ago. Willa was the adventurous type so she said goodbye to her family and moved to Kansas with her new husband.

Randall had lived most of his life in Kansas and had found a piece of land where the Clear Creek met the Smokey Hill River just southeast of Ellsworth. Together they built a fine cabin and began planting corn out back of the barn.

Their only sadness was that, so far, they seemed unable to have a child so when Brew came to stay, Willa treated him as if he were her own son. Willa didn’t approve of the boy hanging around Joe Brennan’s Saloon but she had given up on the matter. Randall didn’t seem to mind it as long as the boy did his fair share of the work around the farm, which he did, besides, Joe Brennan paid the boy for cleaning up and helping with other chores around the bar and every penny helped. Randall also knew that Brew was sweet on Emma, a young whore that worked at Brennan’s. Emma was a few years older than Brew but she seemed to favor the lad. Randall felt that, her profession aside, Emma was a decent sort. She certainly was pretty and, having been a boy of Brew’s age once himself, he knew how strong those urges could be. Willa was not quite so open minded.

THREE

Randall and Brew sat silently through their meal, which was not so unusual for Randall, who had a reputation for being a man of few words. However, it was highly unusual for Brew, who, as a rule, had a very hard time keeping quiet. Finally, it was Willa who broke the silence.

Okay, boys, what’s goin’ on here? Faces that long are usually wearin’ a bridle.

Randall had been trying to think of a way to break the news all through dinner and he’d been hoping to have a little more time to come up with something. Now he was thinking that the best thing to do was to just let it out.

Brew says he saw some soldiers with a wanted poster in town. The likeness on the poster was me.

Well, what in the world would you be wanted for? Said Willa.

M, mum … murder. Brew stammered.

Willa sat speechless as Randall spoke. It seems I killed some army general’s son up in Illinois.

Well, That’s silly, said Willa. You ain’t never been in Illinois … have you?

No, Willa, I ain’t never been there.

Well then, how in the …

It’s my picture, Willa, and my name.

That’s right, Mrs. Redd, said Brew. It’s a picture of Mr. Redd fer sure."

Well, that’s the damndest thing I ever heard. Everybody knows you ain’t no killer."

Seems not everybody, Willa, said Randall.

The three of them sat there quietly for a while, Willa just staring at Randall, Randall staring at his plate and Brew looking back and forth at the two of them. Finally, Brew excused himself and went out to the barn.

Willa stood and began to clear away the table. When she reached for Randall’s plate, he grabbed her hand and motioned for her to sit back down.

Willa, there’s things about me, about my life before we met … things about my background, my family, that you don’t know. Some things, well, I’m not very proud of.

I don’t care what went on before I met you. I know the man you are now, a good man, an honest man and a hard workin’ man …

And now I’m a wanted man.

That phrase fell like a brick, and, once again, there was silence. Husband and wife sat there quietly for what seemed like an eternity, she on the verge of tears, and he deep in thought. Finally, Randall managed a weak smile and spoke.

Willa, I think I’m gonna have to leave for a while.

What? You mean you’re gonna run? Willa was shocked. I’ve never known you to run from anything. As far as I know, you’ve never been a coward.

It ain’t like that, Willa, you know I’m no coward.

Willa was growing impatient and snapped back, Well then, what is it, Randall, Just what are you planning to do?

"I’ve been thinking hard on this