Long Ride Home

By Thomas 'DOC' Savage

Max Tyler was killed in the raid that saw his wife and young son kidnapped. But Max isn't about to let being dead stop him from getting them back. He will chase the kidnappers all the way across the country to retrieve them.
He is just one against many. Help will come from unexpected sources, but will that be enough? And will it be in time? Time is something he doesn't have a lot of.Max Tyler was killed in the raid that saw his wife and young son kidnapped. But Max isn't about to let being dead stop him from getting them back. He will chase the kidnappers all the way across the country to retrieve them.
He is just one against many. Help will come from unexpected sources, but will that be enough? And will it be in time? Time is something he doesn't have a lot of.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.C. Hulsey Books
• Release date: Mar 16, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224869398

Book preview

LONG RIDE HOME

THOMAS ‘DOC’ SAVAGE

Table of Contents

Title Page

Long Ride Home

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Copyright © 2019 by Thomas Savage

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The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copy written materials.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

This book may contain views, premises, depictions, and statements by the author that are not necessarily shared or endorsed by J.C. Hulsey Books

For information contact: [e-mail]

Edited by Cindy Heaton

Cover Art by Michael Thomas

Cover Design by J.C. Hulsey Books

Published by J.C. Hulsey Books

April 2024

10987654321

"There are truths that are

not for all men,

nor for all time."

Voltaire

CHAPTER ONE

There is a sense of satisfaction that comes from hard, physical labor when the labor is performed to benefit home and family. Max Tyler was bone weary as he closed the barn door. The sun had nearly set, and shadows crawled long across the dirt yard of his neat little ranch house. Lantern glow beckoned from the windows as he headed for the door.

He paused with his hand on the door latch and turned for one last look at the sturdy barn, the well-fenced corral, and the rolling acres stretching toward the last gleam of light as the sun fell out of sight. His own ranch!

He still was sometimes amazed that he had his own ranch. His own family. He occasionally thought back to the restless years after the war. Rambling around the west. Working for others. Moving on. He knew he was looking for something, but he never knew what it was until he had walked into the Mercantile Store in Red River, Wyoming. That day he had first glimpsed Mary Beth Slater, and his whole world had changed.

Mary Beth, with her red hair and green eyes, had been the loveliest creature he’d ever seen. He had stood there at the counter so doggone tongue-tied he couldn’t speak. When she asked him what he was after, he swore no angel in Heaven could have sounded sweeter.

All he could answer was, Um...er...’scuse me, and turn and leave the store. He had sat on the boardwalk with his face red and his ears burning with embarrassment. 

In the past, he’d run flat out before a stampeding herd of longhorns. He had faced a charging grizzly in Yellowstone and walked away. He’d once stared down five men who wanted to take his life, but his gun had been faster. And now, danged if he hadn’t run away stuttering from a little red-haired slip of a girl!

Lordy, but she was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen! So, he’d screwed up his courage and walked back into the store where he’d managed to ask for a pound of coffee.

For the next six days, he’d found some excuse or other to go back into that store. On the seventh day, she had met him as she was coming down the stairs from her daddy’s home above the store and had asked him if he’d care to go to church with her.

He’d never been inside a church in his life, but he went anyway. A year later, they had gone back into that church to be married. Now that beautiful red-haired girl and their four-year-old, freckle-faced son were waiting for him, inside this sturdy little house on one of the prettiest ranches in Wyoming.

Even though his body was weary, his heart swelled with love and pride. He opened the door and stepped into the kitchen, rich with good smells. She turned from the stove where she was stirring a pot as he walked in. He grabbed her in a bear hug, nuzzled her neck, and swung her in a circle as their son hollered, Do me now, Daddy! Do me!

It ought to be a crime for a body to be so happy. When the delicious meal was done, and the dishes washed and put away, they sank together in each other’s arms to sleep the sleep of those who were grateful for their lives.

CHAPTER TWO

Max was seated with his back against a giant cottonwood tree, its branches providing pleasant shade. Mary Beth was lounging with her head against his chest. The remains of a picnic lunch were spread on the blanket they were relaxing on. A small stream gurgled over its stony bed, and a campfire burned softly. The smoke rose through the sheltering branches.

A shift in the breeze blew the smoke into his face, and he raised his hand to waft it away. Instead, it grew stronger. It began to sting his eyes. He bolted upright. He was lying in his bed. It had all been a dream, but the smoke was real! The house was on fire!

"Mary Beth! Wake up! FIRE! We gotta get Billy and get out of here!"

His questing hand came up empty; his wife wasn’t in the bed beside him. Had she already awakened to the threat? Why hadn’t she awakened him?

He threw back the patchwork quilt his mother had given them as a wedding present and swung his feet to the floor. The smoke was everywhere. It was blinding. Where was his wife? Suddenly he realized the noise he was hearing was booted feet thudding across the plank floor below him.

He dropped to his knees to get under the smoke and got a glimpse of a painted face and feathers in long black hair. He threw himself down the stairs to the main floor and grabbed at a disappearing form. He gripped a bare arm, but it twisted away from him. He struggled to his feet and heard a thunderous roar. A blow in the center of his chest drove him to his back.

He tried to get back on his feet, but it seemed like all his strength had suddenly deserted him. His hand went to his chest where he’d been hit. It came away wet and sticky. Blood? Where was the blood from? Where were his wife and child? Why couldn’t he get up?

An eerie feeling came over him. He felt like he was rising up and away from his body, looking down at himself through the smoke. So much blood. His chest was covered with it. It was leaking onto the floor. What was happening?

With his last bit of consciousness, he thought, Indians haven’t been around here for years. Why have Indians attacked us? And where is my family? And...wait! Boots! Indians don’t wear boots!

Blackness overtook him.

*  *  *  *  *

With incredible slowness, Max regained consciousness. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt too heavy to move. He felt he was lying on his back with something soft under him. A strange smell assaulted his nostrils. He tried to identify it, but the blackness took him again.

*  *  *  *  *

Again, he felt wakefulness begin to tug at his mind, but his eyes still felt as if they were glued shut. Summoning every bit of strength he could, he forced them open. As if through a haze, he glimpsed tree branches above him, forming a covering – a ceiling. And something dark... a face?... hovering over him.

Blackness again.

*  *  *  *  *

Eventually - after how long? - he became fully awake. He was lying on his back on a blanket that lay on top of something soft. Above him was a covering made of tightly woven branches. Walls of log surrounded him. As he tried to make sense of what he was seeing, a blanket-covered opening moved aside, and a strange looking little, man entered.

So. Thou wakest.

The voice sounded brittle, like it might easily crack. The face the voice came from was dark and deeply creased. Black eyes were shaded by a jutting brow. A huge beak of a nose and a receding chin, with a few black hairs sprouting from it, completed the odd-looking visage.

It wasn’t a face he’d ever seen before. The face sat upon a neck that was wider than the head. The neck flowed into massive shoulders and arms, but the legs below were tiny – short. Too short for the huge body above them.

Max realized he was looking at a dwarf. He had no idea who he was.

Where am I? Who are you? Where’s my wife?

Ah, thou hast many questions. And there be but few answers. Maybe first thou might takest sustenance. Give me but a moment.

Max tried to push himself up on his arms but had no strength to do it. He turned his head to follow the dwarf as he scampered to the corner of the...what? What was this place he was in, anyway?

The little man busied himself in a corner of what must be a cabin of some kind. Soon, he returned to Max’s side with a bowl and a spoon. Setting the bowl down beside Max, he lifted the man’s head as easily as lifting an infant. With his other hand, he spooned a thick broth into his mouth.

Max tried to talk as the spoon was at his lips and the broth ran down his neck.

In good time, brother, in good time. First, thou must gain strength. Thou wert dead but a few days ago. Drink now.

The words shocked Max. He sent his mind seeking backwards. He remembered waking with his home burning and his wife gone. He remembered being hit. Shot! He had been shot, and he...no!

His hands went to his chest where he had felt the blow. There was a pad there. A bandage. A large bandage. What in the world had happened to him?

Yes, brother. Thou wast killed, and thou hast lost most of thy life’s blood. Now thou needest this food, so thou can again become strong. Now drink.

Again, the spoon was placed at his lips, and his time the broth went in. Max was surprised at how good it tasted. And how the liquid made the dryness in his throat, which he hadn’t even noticed before, feel better. It felt wonderful going down. So wonderful that he eagerly accepted the spoon when it was offered again.

But, what...how...?

The little man said, "I knowest thy mind is cloudy. Thou wast long dead when I found