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    Mitchell's Revenge
    Mitchell's Revenge
    Mitchell's Revenge
    Ebook79 pages2 hours

    Mitchell's Revenge

    By MIcheal O'Flaherty

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Frank Mitchell's life changed forever the day his wife was killed by a bullet that was meant for him. Revenge now burns his soul as he roams around the countryside seeking her killer.

    His search leads him to Atlas, home of his old friend, Ger McMahon. Atlas is no ordinary town, however, and Frank soon falls afoul of Mark Taylor, a land grabber that has bought the law and runs the town as his own.

    But then, he also meets Julia, whose eyes pierce into his very soul.

    When Ger's farm is threatened by Taylor, and Julia is being forced into a marriage against her will, Frank must decide whether his desire to seek revenge is greater than his willingness to help both his oldest friend and the beautiful woman who has reawakened in him a humanity he had forgotten existed.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMIcheal O'Flaherty
    Release dateSep 2, 2015
    ISBN9781311810977
    Mitchell's Revenge

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      Book preview

      Mitchell's Revenge - MIcheal O'Flaherty

      Mitchell’s Revenge

      Mitchell’s Revenge: Book 1

      Micheál O’Flaherty

      A Writers of the West Novella

      ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

      No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations

      embodied in reviews.

      This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are the work of the author’s imagination.

      Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is coincidental.

      Copyright 2014 Micheál O’Flaherty

      Smashwords Edition

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      For Rosarie

      Dear Reader,

      Mitchell’s Revenge is written as part of the Writers of the West brand (www.writersofthewest.com).

      Writers of the West (WOW) authors aren’t in this to get rich, create million-sellers or take the western genre by storm. We’re in it to revive western storytelling and uphold the elements of quality writing.

      We hope you enjoy this read, and be sure to check out www.writersofthewest.com for more fantastic western stories.

      — Writers of the West authors

      Table of Contents

      Prologue

      One

      Two

      Three

      Four

      Five

      Six

      Seven

      Eight

      Nine

      Ten

      Eleven

      Twelve

      Prologue

      ‘What are you?’ a man once asked me.

      ‘Name’s Frank Mitchell,’ I replied, not fully sure what he meant.

      ‘No,’ he said. ‘That’s your name. It was given to you by someone else. What you are is something that comes from inside yourself.’

      I couldn’t answer that question due to the simple fact was that I was a man that constantly lived in the past. A man that, every time I closed my eyes, felt terror, fear, guilt. And loss.

      *

      He quenched the lights, allowing darkness to envelop the house.

      ‘Keep down, Sally,’ he whispered, his voice hoarse with panic.

      ‘They’ve found us,’ she muttered.

      Their clapboard house faced onto the road. He was beginning to regret buying so far from town.

      ‘They’re out front,’ he said. He could see movements in the darkness, shapes shifting in the night.

      ‘How many?’ she asked. As he watched her pull back the hammer on her Colt .45 he cocked his own revolver.

      ‘More than us anyway,’ he replied.

      They were as ready as they would ever be.

      He took one last look at her before gunfire cleaved the night air.

      The house seemed to explode, the wooden walls ripped asunder by bullets and buckshot. The glass from the windows shattered, raining shards down upon them. He fell to the floor but kept his hand raised and his gun pointed out through the opening where the window had once been. He squeezed the trigger and fired blindly.

      He could see Sally across the room from him as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. She knelt on one knee while firing through a newly torn hole in the wall before her. All the while the lead kept coming, clawing at their home, tearing it apart as it sought them out.

      His hammer clicked, impacting on an empty cylinder. He crouched down to reload, putting his back against what remained of the wall. His breath came fast and shallow. His ears rang and sweat dripped into his eyes. His hands shook as he took the bullets from his pocket and slid them into the open cylinders. He hunched over involuntarily as more lead thudded into the walls, roof and floorboards all about him. They couldn’t survive this for long, he knew. But he was determined to go down fighting.

      He had his gun reloaded and was ready to open fire once more when he realised the silence.

      ‘They’ve stopped, Sally,’ he called. ‘They’ve stopped shooting.’

      ‘Last chance, Mitchell. Come on out and we won’t kill ye,’ came a shout from outside. ‘Think of your wife. Don’t have her blood on your hands.’

      Frank knew that Prowse would gun them down the moment they showed themselves.

      ‘No way, Prowse,’ he replied.

      Can’t say I didn’t try to reason with you. Let ‘em have it boys.’

      Frank looked across the floor strewn with debris. Sally was on the ground.

      ‘Get ready Sally.’

      She didn’t reply.

      ‘Sally,’ he called softly. Again, he got no response. He called her again; more urgently this time and when she didn’t answer for a second time he couldn’t keep the feeling of dread down in his chest any longer. He Sally to his feet, no longer caring whether he was visible to those outside or not. As he began to move towards her, his heart pounding with apprehension, the first flaming bottle flew in the window.

      *

      Texas. 1863.

      I woke suddenly and sat bolt upright. I shook my head to banish the nightmare, another night spent asleep but without rest. No wonder I drank.

      I heated coffee and water slowly in my mug over the dim embers of the previous night’s fire. I didn’t wait for it to boil but drank it barely warm, just hot enough to take the worst of the bitterness out of it. I chewed cold, hard bread along with it, softening it in my mouth with the cool coffee.

      The sun wasn’t long risen, the cold of the night still in the air as I

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