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    Whiskey Gold: Western Fiction Album
    Whiskey Gold: Western Fiction Album
    Whiskey Gold: Western Fiction Album
    Ebook156 pages3 hours

    Whiskey Gold: Western Fiction Album

    By Tom Leftwich

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    About this ebook

    This work is an album of five western action, adventure and human interest stories , all of which involve mysteries. It’s set in the early southwest during the gun fighter and Indian war era of !850 to 1880. Many incidents of unusual interest described in diaries and historical research common to that period I have included where possible, to bring a little realism to these fictions. The early settlements had little law enforcement and many a man had to stand alone serving his own justice. Life expectancy was 39yrs and most of the so called gunfighters didn’t make 40. An old man was 50. I’ve endeavored to bring the reader a moving story , with action and adventure followed by a satisfying conclusion ‘Young woman puts on a gun to find the killer of her husband, mystery, Young mother turns to gun fighting and saloon girl work to support her kids while husband is in prison. Old at 45, Red Barnes covers his blunders with straight shooting as he aids two women in solving the location of a murdered husbands gold mine. A broken down spider covered cart serves to carry a couple to a surprise fortune, but who was the gun fighting girl . Rounding out this album, a big mystery wherein everyone is looking for a Whiskey goldmine. I hope you enjoy and Thanks for taking time to read this description.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLulu.com
    Release dateMar 3, 2022
    ISBN9781458395511
    Whiskey Gold: Western Fiction Album

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      Book preview

      Whiskey Gold - Tom Leftwich

      Chapter  1 Gun Packin Carla,

      He’s dead , Carla! Nothing I can do.  Oh God Doctor! It just cain’t be. I cain’t lose him. I’ve got no one! exclaimed the young woman . Doc said, Too much damage to the brain. The bullet hit the back of his head. I’m sorry. Have you and Jim any family around here? Carla just shook her head, No. She was in too much grief and shock to answer. Doc said, Leave the body in the wagon Carla, it’s a terrible thing, but we’ve gotta be practical. I’ll get a ground sheet to cover him and we can make do until morning to get a box for burial. Carla replied, Doc, I cain’t leave him out here. I’ll use the blanket and stay here. Doc replied, Girl, I know how you must feel, but there’s a lotta rough trail hands in town. It’s not the safest place for a girl alone. Carla replied, Doc, I’m not alone. No one will bother me. I know how to use Jim’s gun. I just cain’t walk away. I’ll stay right here. Moses my mule will be Ok, I’ll pull the harness. Give him some rest. I had to run him getting here. Doc said, Ok, I’ll see you come morning. He was thinking, That young lady has a head on her shoulders and I don’t think she’ll have a problem. Terrible shame to lose Jim, they’ve only been married two years. Wish I could help. Must have been a stray bullet that hit him. Some hunter maybe.

      Carla sat depressed and crying late into the night saying over and over to heself, Why would God let this happen? Jim was a good man. Over in her mind she saw her life . No parents, taken in and raised by a number of different Cherokee families in Oklahoma Territory. A hard lifestyle living with poor families whose main food was wild game and a small garden. Always working hard, scrabbling for food and clothing. Lucky to have been schooled by a Missionary . It was almost a miracle that Jim Horn had come through the little town settlement of Garey and an even greater miracle that he had taken a fancy to a half wild Indian girl. It was a surprise to him when Carla set him straight that she was white and could read and write. She was her own person and no, she wanted nothing to do with him. His offer to buy her from the Tribe as his Squaw was an insult and she refused to even talk to him. Jim , however ; was stricken with desire for this young girl and asked her to marry him in white man fashion. It was here that Carla’s common sense took over and she used the intelligence and strength her name stood for. Although she wasn’t  that taken with Jim, she enjoyed the banter with  him and they were married. She was introduced to a much better life style and came to love her husband dearly.

      She found out the Jim had a homestead in Chino Arizona Territory and this would be her new home. He had made a trip to Texas to pay an old friend money he had borrowed. Often over the past two years , she had wondered where he had gotten the money he carried to Texas. He had said that it was over five hundred dollars. The homestead cabin and rough life style didn’t produce that kind of money. She often suspected that he may have robbed someone, although he was not the type. There had to be a better answer, but he always avoided her questions saying, Honey , I cain’t  tell you anything right now what you don’t know, you cain’t be threatened  for. I know that sounds bad,  but one of these days I’ve got a big surprise for you. Two years  and still no surprise. Carla had quit trying to get an answer and now she would never know. Her Jim was gone. She would never see his smile and enjoy his hugs again. Once again she patted his dead arm. It was turning cold and she broke down crying  Twice that evening she had to show her pistol to passing trail hands. They quickly moved along.

      The following day was one she would hope to forget, but a livery worker Jonas, built a box and two days later Jim was buried in Boot Hill. It was a curious thing noticed by everyone that Carla wore a side arm at the funeral. No one questioned her about it, but there was a lotta talk in the saloon where town’s folk were trying to figure it out. Carla though had no thought of telling them anything. She vividly remembered every detail that happened when Jim was shot.

      They were loading fencing in their one horse wagon, when a bullet plowed into the side of the wagon. Jim shoved her to the ground and ran for the cabin to get his rifle. Tripping on a pile of fence posts he fell and scrambled back to his feet as another shot was fired spinning him around and he dropped to the ground. She couldn’t help herself and screamed. The back of Jim’s head was torn  badly and she quickly put a tight wrap over the wound to stop the bleeding. Jim was unconscious and she had a terrible time getting him in the wagon after unloading their fencing. She was a very strong girl and managed to drag him in the back end with the tail gate removed and whipped ol’Moses into a run for town and the Doctor. Jim came to half way to town and screamed in pain. Carla tried to comfort him, but he was outta his mind insisting that they shot him. When she asked who, he said, Damnit, I won’t sell, no, one more year , just one more year. These were his last words. He went into a coma and  just before entering town Carla heard the death rattle in his throat. She didn’t want to believe it but knew he had died. Ten minutes later Doc Harris confirmed it.

      Sheriff Howard came out to get details of Jim’s death and following an inspection of the wagon and listening to her story he said, Mrs Horn, I think your Jim was outta his mind and you cain’t put any credit in what he said after the  injury. His words were probably muffled and you may have misread what he said. I tend to agree with Doc Harris that some deer hunter shot him accidently. He had no enemies by your own words. He was well liked, hard working honest and has been a great addition to this town since he homesteaded this place four years ago. Do you mind telling me what you intend to do. Are you gonna sell out. I understand you came from Oklahoma territory. You’ll probably want to go back there.

      Carla was fuming mad, but held her temper saying, Sheriff, I’m not going anywhere and if anyone asks about me and this place. Tell’em they’ll have to talk to me  and sheriff, I know exactly what Jim said and he wasn’t outta his mind when he said it. I think he was murdered. I just don’t know why, but when I do, I’ll know who the killer was and you’ll have another body for boot hill.’ The sheriff exclaimed No,No, No! Mrs Horn, you’re going off half cocked. If you suspect something ;come to me and let me handle it. I realize you’re upset but you’re wrong. Dead wrong. Just calm down and give yourself a few days to think things out. I’m sure you’ll see things in a better light. There is absolutely no reason to suspect murder. Carla sharply replied, Damnit, sheriff, there were two shots fired; both at Jim! sheriff said, I know what you’re saying but I still think it was accidental. Some one may have been shooting at an animal and missed both times. It happens , you know. Carla had enough saying Good day sheriff" as she quickly turned and walked away.

      Later as she sat thinking of everything, she remembered Jim had said they had one more year to go and the homestead was theirs with full ownership rights. That must have something to do with the murder, but what? Upset with the sheriff, she had to prove it was murder. Here’s where her Indian upbringing came in. The bullets had been fired from a grove of trees almost half a mile away. What kind of gun would shoot that far? She was well trained in using guns but that distance had her stumped. What kind of bullet would travel that far? She remembered the first shot hitting the wagon and went to dig it out. It was a fifty caliber bullet like they used hunting buffalo that were a hundred miles from Chino. There was no reason to go hunting deer with a buffalo gun that weighed sixteen pounds. Carla was familiar with buffalo guns. A number of the Cherokee braves in Oklahoma  owned them, although she had never shot one. She was quite familiar with the sixteen bullet Henry and as good as the best Brave  hunting. She was not supposed to do things the braves did , but being a white girl, the tribe overlooked her ways of doing things ,sometimes; and Carla had tried everything she could. Antelope and deer were plentiful in the Chino hills and she had often out shot Jim when hunting. He had been teaching her the pistol and that was one reason she wore it. Just putting her hand on it reminded her of him  saying, Honey I’ve had to use it and the one rule to remember is; don’t touch it unless you need to use it and never draw unless to shoot, then shoot to kill. A wounded enemy is just like a wounded bear, still life threatening.

      Carla shook her head, the tears were coming with memory and she had to make plans instead of crying. Nothing was gonna bring Jim back, she had to make it on her own. It was time to force herself to go through everything of his and try to find why he had been shot. The first thing , however ; was go out to where the shot came from and look for anything that would help her  find the killer. This was to her liking. She had lived as an Indian and knew what to look for first. Find out where the killer had tied up his horse and track him from there. Horses as she knew always left a good amount of sign and she began her search on the town side of the trees. Almost too easy she was thinking, there was a plain trail through the brush and shortly she found the horse manure and ground stamp marks she was looking for. The horse tracks nailed her attention. There was a slight toe out on the right front foot and gray hair on the brush told her the basic color. Pee marks on the ground and lack of nervous activity identified the horse as a gelding. The rough texture of the horse’s manure indicated poor teeth, which could possibly mean a horse of ten or better. Carla stood  and tried to see any other sign  and seeing brown stains on some brush , she identified it as chewing tobacco stains. The killer was a man! No woman she ever knew chewed the stuff.

      There were few boot marks, pine neddles were disturbed though in the direction  of the killers travel and Carla easily followed that trail. She could see a slight rise ahead of her and knew this is where the killer would set up. This rise gave a great view of her cabin a good five hundred yards away. It was easy to see where the killer had set up for using that buffalo gun. Crossed sticks to provide a rest was a dead give away and yes the killer had ejected his first shell. It lay in the pine needles about two feet away. Probably didn’t look for it in his haste to get away. A very good break for her was the area around the shooter’s set up. He had cleared the area with marks that indicate he had used a belt knife to scrape the ground and trim his rest sticks. His boot marks were plain as day. They were like Jim’s ranch hand boots, but a little smaller than his. Carla looked intently for anything else she may have missed. She was leaving when she noted the way pine needles were disturbed as the killer quickly walked back to his horse  . Something bothered her and  she stood looking at that trail with the bright sunlight cutting through the brush. Thinking back to her years with the Indians, she knew what it was; an Indian walked pigeon toed and it was easy to see the killer was walking toed in almost as bad as the Indians. She remembered the Indian school mate kidding her about her toes sticking sideways compared to theirs.

      Carla spent almost an hour writing down everything she remembered  about the killer and his horse. She was kicking herself for not following the horse tracks back to town, but said to herself, Cain’t remember everything and they probably disappeared in the trail to town. Probably been wasted time anyway. Now she had time to go through everything of Jim’s.

      Her first move was to examine the homestead papers because those were Jim’s last words. She read the requirements  and realized Jim had added her as family which meant the homestead now belonged to her and there was almost a full year needed for proving and getting title. Jim had no other family and she suddenly realized she was orphan also. Jim was already gone and now they had to get rid of her! What could she possibly do and why was the homestead so valuable that some one would kill for it? Oh my God! she exclaimed and immediately moved away from the windows thinking, How can I protect myself? I cain’t do a thing outside. I’ll get shot like Jim! All they have to do is get into that tree grove and wait for me. If I wanna live , I’ve got to give up this place and forget about proving it up. What would Jim do? He always said in this land you’ve gotta do whatever is necessary to protect yourself.

      Suddenly looking at that grove she experienced a cold fear coming over her. The cow needed milking and she would be sitting out there. The cow shed was no protection! Wait until dark! Old Daisy as Jim called her would just have to wait. She was out there mooing for attention now. Clara felt the fear and anger at what was happening. She was a prisoner in her own home . There was no way to run their little farm doing everything in the dark and she couldn’t even light the lamp!

      The next morning after a terrible night of worry and fear at when she would be a target, she sat across from the window looking at the tree grove . It was the only one on their homestead near to the cabin and a great source of fire wood for the winter months. Deer were always crossing the valley to get into those trees and offered a great opportunity for Jim or

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