The Righteous Man

By John J. Law

"You can hang me now, but you had all better hang Sheriff Plunkett as well! He's the leader of our gang!"
Billy's dying words sent the crowd viewing the hanging into an uproar. He instantly polarized everyone, and chaos erupted. Sheriff Plunkett turned pale, as he heard the words, and everyone seemed to go crazy.
"He's lying! He's lying! I ain't no leader of 'The Guiltless!'"
Plunkett professed his innocence, but the crowd was split. Some of the people in attendance clearly wanted him hanged, while others also supported him. Poor Billy McCoy hung much longer on that noose because of the commotion. They let him down, a few days later.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.C. Hulsey Books
• Release date: Dec 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223640998

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The Dark Path of Vengeance

It was late at night when the intruder barged into the home of John Wilkinson. Wilkinson and his wife lived in a shack in the middle of some woods all by themselves. The elderly couple had spent most of their years in married bliss, and were living a quiet life by now, a life that would meet its end.

Wilkinson sat by their dining table, the single oil lamp in the middle was the only source of light. It illuminated the small house where it was only him and wife. They had both eaten dinner and were preparing to retire for the night.

Come on John. Let's go to bed.

Wilkinson did not move from his chair. He stared at the oil lamp, and the window outside alternately. This was not typical behavior for John who always liked to go to sleep early. It was clear that something was bothering him. 

His wife immediately noticed this. What's wrong, John?

John shook his head. It's nothing. I just can't shake this feeling in my gut.

John's wife smiled and patted him on the back. She had been married to John for most of her life, and she knew him well enough to know that this was one of his moods. John was always like this, worried and alert for any danger. Wilma knew that this, in itself, was not a bad thing. If anything, it probably kept them alive this long in these times.

Come on now, John. You've got to rest. We're perfectly safe.

John shook his head, and reached for his revolver. He always kept it close, and this time, his hand was gripping it quite tightly.

I don't know, Wilma. This gut of mine's served me well enough these past years. It never lies. Something just isn't right.

What's wrong? We're in our home, and we're together. There's work tomorrow, so it would be best if you turned in, already.

I know, but...

That was when it happened. It all happened so fast, faster than John Wilkinson could act. Their front door was knocked down by a well-placed kick, and an imposing man stepped into their home.

What the hell...?

Before John could pull out his revolver, the man quickly fired a shot his way. The shot struck John with fearsome accuracy. He felt a burning pain rip through his arm, as the bullet tore through it. He was knocked down from his chair. His revolver fell to the floor. It was only a few inches from his hand.

Pain shot through John, but now the adrenaline was coursing through, as well. He ignored the pain and reached for his pistol.

The man's response was swift and brutal. He stepped on John's hand as he would a bothersome roach. The full force of the man's boot fell on John's palm, cracking it, instantly. John cried out in pain.

John! No!

Wilma saw her husband shot,