Jericho And The Kidnapping: Jericho, #1

By Paul Lawless

Nathan Jericho and his constant companion, Marcus, find themselves in yet another predicament. Marcus is kidnapped and held by a gang of four ruthless bank robbers. Nathan is forced to rob a bank in the town of Prairie Dog in order to save his friend. When three of the four kidnappers shoot down the sheriff of Sandstone Creek in cold blood and leave their fourth partner behind, Nathan finds himself in a race to find and save his friend.
Deputy Dusty Dawson of Sandstone Creek is forced by some of the town's businessmen to form a posse to go after Nathan Jericho and the kidnappers. Finding Nathan and Marcus was easy for the deputy and his posse. Finding a way of a harrowing situation where they find themselves pinned down by fifty warring Cheroyuchi Indians was not so easy.
With most of the posse dead, Nathan and Marcus make the promise to the Deputy to find the kidnappers and the bank's missing money and return them all to Sandstone Creek. And, Jericho and Marcus almost lose their lives to keep that promise.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Outlaws Publishing LLC
• Release date: May 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224214433

Paul Lawless

Paul Lawless was born in Liverpool, England in 1958. He spends a lot of time volunteering for charities in Liverpool. He's a lover of animals, reading, writing novels and poems. He's also member of an Unitarian Church in Liverpool which takes up a lot of his time.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title Page

Jericho And The Kidnapping

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

About the Author

About the Publisher

JERICHO

AND THE

KIDNAPPING

PAUL LAWLESS

Copyright © 2019 by Paul Lawless

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recorded, photocopied, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

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 piracy of copywritten material.

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 Outlaws Publishing LLC.

For information contact: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Michael Thomas

Cover design by Outlaws Publishing LLC

Published by Outlaws Publishing LLC

May 2024

10987654321 

CHAPTER ONE

The rain belted down against the dirty windows of the Red Hawk Saloon. It was reasonably warm n the saloon. The smell of beer, urine, horses and stale sweat swam inside. Nathan Jericho placed his Deerstalker hat onto the bar counter, dust drifting off it. He eased his left hand down to the red dragon-covered Navy gun at his side. He pulled the gun out of its holster and laid it carefully on the counter. His intelligent and keen blue eyes locked onto the bar man, Henry James.

Henry was standing on the opposite side of the counter in an animated conversation with two ranch hands, Rory and Jake. When Henry felt Nathan’s eyes on him, he sighed reluctantly and strolled along the counter towards him. He stopped in front of Jericho, glad to have the counter between them. Yes? he questioned rudely.

Nathan picked up his gun and held it in his left hand. Whiskey, he replied, and make sure it’s the good whiskey. Not your rot gut stuff.

Henry stood to his full height and carefully watched Nathan. I only serve good whiskey in here, he said with an air of resentment. If you require rot gun whiskey and a cheap, ugly whore, then leave my saloon and keep walking to the Bruise Bamber Saloon because your kind will always be welcomed there. Now, do you still want some of my good whiskey? If so, there’s no more need for any of your rude words.

Nathan opened the chamber of his pistol and emptied the bullets onto the counter. Henry watched the bullets with a smile on his face. Nathan picked up one bullet, blew on it with resolved certainty, and put the bullet back into the chamber as he had done it a thousand times. Henry placed a glass of whiskey down on the counter in front of the last bullet. Nathan ignored the whiskey, picked up the last bullet, blew on it, and placed it into the gun’s chamber. Nathan closed the chamber and Henry allowed another smile to cross his face. Nathan put the gun down towards his holster, forcing it in. Henry’s smile grudgingly faded.

Nathan picked up his glass of whiskey. He could sense a man standing behind him. The man was watching. Nathan, realizing the man was waiting, swallowed a drink of his whiskey. Henry watched, a smile trying to form on his face again. Nathan tasted the bitter whiskey and wanted to spit it out of his mouth. 

Jericho put the glass of whiskey back onto the counter as the last drop of the liquid inside his mouth found its way down his throat. He wanted to cough but refused the desire. He turned and looked at the man now standing before him. Five feet of space lingered between the two of them. Jericho wished the man would either talk or go away. Drops of water fell from the man’s black coat and grey hat. The stranger watched Nathan, realizing there was something very powerful there that held interest to him.

The sheriff’s badge on the stranger’s blue shirt caught Nathan’s eye. He wanted to turn away, pick up the whiskey and drink some more of the ugly liquid. He took a deep breath, feeding the calmness inside, and asked, Sheriff, is there something on your mind? I would advise you to try another saloon in this town. The whiskey in this place is of very low quality.

The sheriff could feel his body wanting to shake. With as much courage as he could muster, he replied, Your gun. I mean, take it out carefully and drop it on the floor.

Henry was overcome with raw excitement and quickly moved down to the other end of the counter, away from any possible coming bullets. 

Nathan watched the sheriff’s hand traveling down towards his waiting Colt .45.  There is no need for this, Sheriff, he said in a strong and commanding tone.

The sheriff’s right hand stopped moving. You rob banks, he told Jericho, and it is my sworn duty to arrest you.

Sheriff...

Now, this is how it’s going to be, the sheriff said.

Sheriff, we can talk, offered Nathan.

All your men are dead, said the law man. If you want to live, you will obey my orders.

Now just listen, Sheriff, said Nathan.

So, all your men were gunned down in Prairie Dog?

Calamitous.

Yes, the sheriff agreed, but it does not have to end like in Prairie Dog for you.

Sheriff, there is no need, said Nathan.

Take your gun out and drop it on the floor and step away, said the sheriff. Or, reach for your gun and I will attempt my best to only wound you.

Sheriff, turn around and walk out of this saloon, Nathan suggested. Make out like you didn’t spot me. I have no craving for killing. I just wish for some whiskey, a meal, and a hot bath. Then I will leave your town.

Henry was reaching under the counter, drops of sweat running down the left side of his face. Nathan could sense the bar man reaching for a weapon.

Sheriff, said Nathan loudly, I ask you to inform that rot gut whiskey selling bar man to halt before violence becomes unstoppable.

Henry stopped hiss hands, straightened up and watched, waiting for the ultimate showdown between this stranger called Jericho and the sheriff.

Now the gun, Mr. Henry, if you please, the sheriff said. Let’s not give violence the opportunity it desires.

Sheriff, said Nathan, just leave now. Yes, my fallen compatriots are lying in the streets of Prairie Dog. Please, just leave this saloon and let me swim in the pool of self-pity.

I can’t, the sheriff replied. Look here, there is no need for more violence. But I ordered you to drop your gun on the floor and back away from it.

Now listen, you damn law dog, said Nathan becoming more agitated. Just leave me alone to swallow some whiskey. For the last time, just turn around and leave me be or face the bloody consequences.

Henry again made a move toward the gun sleeping beneath the counter. The sheriff watched the bar man and said, Henry James, don’t be in such a bloody hurry to get acquainted with violence. Now, I have this situation under control, so move down the counter now!

Henry reluctantly moved down the counter and came to a stop at he back of Nathan’s head. Henry said in a quiet voice, "Bloody? If this day gets any worse. I mean, I got up this morning and first there were still glasses on the tables. The tables were still dirty. Those bloody whores were still in bed, snoozing their heads off. I banged on their doors and stood there waiting for who knows how long. Out comes Bathsheba and Alice, quiet as lambs, standing there with their hair untidy. I was about to make my thoughts known when I remembered the wealthy and distinguished looking guest I allowed to stay in my saloon. I lowered my tone and started to whisper to the girls when that foul-mouthed Wendy comes bursting out her room like both her room and the saloon were on fire. 

"Wendy was belting out words like a drunken sailor. I waved my hand up and down in front of her eyes in a vain attempt to quieten her down. Then my distinguished guest’s bedroom door opened. Out came the man. He took one looked at that demented woman belting out her unladylike words and charged back into his room. He slammed the door shut before I had a chance to apologize for the whore. Then Wendy stopped talking and I stood there wondering what to do. 

"The guest came out carrying his suitcase. ‘I was under the illusion,’ he said to me, ‘when I first entered this backward town that it had at least one establishment of culture and refinement. Sadly, I was mistaken. I’m leaving this establishment, Mr. James. I will never come back to this...’. The gentleman stopped briefly and put his suitcase on the floor. Then he turned and looked briefly at Wendy. Wendy simply stood there like a demented fish out of water. 

The man turned from Wendy, picked up his suitcase and said, ‘I was mistakenly led to believe this saloon to be a refined and cultivated hotel with a considerable and a decent member of civilization running the place.’ My guest left, banging his suitcase all the way down the stairs then out the front door. My whores just stood there without even an apology.

Nathan let his hand drift down towards his gun. The sheriff watched in shock, unable to move. The law man mentally ordered his hand to travel to his holster. Nathan pulled his gun and turned swiftly towards Henry James. Nathan fired and hit the bar man in the left shoulder. Henry stood there in shock and pain as blood escaped from his wound. 

Nathan turned back around and aimed his gun at the sheriff. The sheriff stood there motionless, his mind waiting for death. He held his gun at his side. 

Rory and Jake wanted to escape the saloon for some air. Henry’s right hand caressed his wound. Oh, bloody sweet Jesus, can this day get any worse? First the trouble with them whores and then I get shot by some...

Would you like another bullet? Nathan asked the whimpering bar man. I will gladly give you another if you utter that vulgar word again.

The tallest ranch hand, Jake, said, Ah, he just loves a present, as long as you don’t require anything back in return.

Rory looked at Jake. In a casual tone he said, My spiders would love some expensive Christmas presents.

Jake leaned away from the bar, took his Stetson from his head and said in a semi-serious tone, You and those damned spiders I mean, keeping them like pets in the bunkhouse and feeding them flies. It’s uncivilized and foolish. And, well, I don’t mean to be unkind, but it’s a working man’s right to have a decent work environment.

The barkeep looked at the two ranch hands with an air of disbelief. What are you going on about now, you two? You come in here, in my fine establishment, and drink the cheapest I sell, and I’m expected to listen to  you two saddle tramps coming out with the most insane rubbish. And I’m in pain and having to listen to your crazy tales about pets. As if this day could get any worse, Jake, now you are going to start on Rory about those damned spiders. I’m in no humor to listen.

Rory took his baseball hat off and held it in his left hand. He waved his right hand up and down like a child. Well, Jake always makes fun of my pets. He likes to joke about things like this because my pets do not like eating normal flies. You see, I was reading a book about the Amazon jungle and it was like my spiders could read my thoughts as I was reading. The book told about how the Amazon jungle has the tastiest and juiciest flies than at any jungle anywhere in the world.

Jake rubbed his right hand up and down the leg of his trousers. Oh, Rory, this again, he said. Why would your stupid pets be interested in Amazon flies?

Henry James looked first at Rory, then at Jake, and finally at the sheriff. The sheriff was still holding his gun. Sheriff John Steinbeck, are you going to arrest Rory and drag him out of my saloon before he scares my customers away?

The sheriff let his eyes roam cautiously around the saloon. What customers, Mr. Henry? he asked in a mocking tone.

Rory rubbed his hand through his hair, paying no mind to the saloon owner. Because, Jake, he said, I was reading that book and bled out my tele, tele, tele, ah heck, I can’t recall that word from my reading. It’s a word that talks about being able to transfer thoughts from one mind to another.

Bloody hell, Henry ranted in an irate manner, I never thought I would hear Rory reach a level of this much stupidity.

I can’t believe this talk! said the sheriff.

Nathan aimed his gun at the floor and said, Let him continue.

Jake crossed one foot over the other. Oh, please, he said, not this again. He kept me awake all Sunday night with this tale of his.

So, continued Rory, happy to have someone listen, my pet spiders listen to my thoughts. They transported these thoughts to their minds. Then the spiders decided these Amazon flies were more to their liking and taste. I concluded that my spiders must have this tele, tele, oh, that word I can’t recall. Now I must have these Amazon flies imported all the way from the Amazon jungle to Sandstone Creek. The package will be sent by a ship, a train and a stagecoach. If only a ship could fly right across the sky like magic then the Amazon flies would get here a lot quicker instead of relying on such a slow transport manner.

Bloody stupid nonsense! Henry James belted out. A flying ship in the sky!

Blood continued to run down from the wound in Henry’s left shoulder. He held it in attempt to ease the pain. He watched while the sheriff continued to hold his gun and wished it would drop to the floor.

Jake and Rory picked up their glasses and drained the remaining drops of their whiskey. Jake slammed his empty glass on the counter and rubbed his bottom lip. Rory kept his empty glass in hand. The two ranch hands walked away from the counter and towards the saloon doors. The rain was still coming down, pelting the windows. 

Jake walked past Nathan and stopped in front of the sheriff. He looked at the gun in the lawman’s hand, longing to say something, but the words would not come. He saw Rory standing in front of Nathan.

Rory stood in front of Nathan, holding his empty glass upside down. He watched the Jericho. You should have asked for the good whiskey, he told Nathan. Mr. James has this way of giving the rot gut whiskey to strangers, unless, of course, he likes them. I mean, when he figures you’ve got both money and class, that’s when he brings out the good whiskey. That is, unless you’re willing to pay plenty of money for a drink. Mr. Gunman, well, I have to go feed my spiders those Amazon flies.

Rory let the glass in his hand drop to the floor. It landed on the floor with a bang as Nathan was placing his gun back into his holster. The glass shattered. The action brought a big smile to Rory’s face. Well, that was a pure accident, Rory said. Well, he said to Nathan, "I take it you have a name? I mean, my mother, she gave me my name. 

Jake, Henry and the sheriff watched Rory and waited. 

It’s Nathan, Jericho replied. Nathan Jericho.

Alice and Bathsheba came down the stairs. Alice stopped on the last step. Jake, she said, you are not leaving without saying how nice I look in my new nighty and my pretty new blue slippers, which, by the way, have come all the way from Paris. I saved up for a year to afford these pretties. Despite Henry’s cheap wages.

Alice turned around to look at Bathsheba, then turned back. Jake turned away from the saloon doors and looked Alice up and down. Alice locked her eyes on Jake and moved her body to communicate her desires. I’ll let you have a poke for half price, she said, because I’m on my breakfast time.

Now listen here, Alice, Henry grunted through the pain in his shoulder, "my working women don’t go about giving out half priced pokes. This is my business, not some bloody charity I’m running here. So, if Jake wants a poke, then it’s full price. No more talk about