“You and me can rebuild and finish what your father started. We can live out our lives and take care of our own. Establish a safe haven for honest, hard working people that want to share a place like that and call it home; but not with people like Farren waiting for the chance to come in and take it all away from us.
“Hopefully, we will raise a family and pass our love on to our children and grandchildren and the next generation after that.
“Terry has found his life with Maryanne. This falls to me to see that they have a chance to live it. I love you so deeply that I will not be denied that love. This fight is for us and the day when we can forget the outlaws and pain.”
“Well then, get to it! Then we get on with our life together. I love you, Tucker. I won’t let these murderers stop me from proving it.”
She grabbed his arm, spun him around and melted against his body. Her emotions took over and she buried her face in his chest, hiding the tears she could no longer hold back. Tucker wrapped his arms around her and held her as tightly as he could, sharing the moment of intimacy. Shannon looked up.
“I love you. Come back to me.”
“I love you, Shannon. I have from the first moment I laid eyes on you. I’ll come back. I’ll make a future for both of us. I swear it.” The kiss they shared was one filled with passion, a kiss that sealed his promise for them both.
Prophet broke the embrace and walked to the corral. She watched as he tacked out his stallion and mounted. She handed his Winchester up to him, turned, and ran back to the cabin.
* * * *
Traders Cut was born as a gathering place for fur trappers and prospectors to trade their wares once a year for the necessities of life in the rugged mountains. Gradually, as more and more businessmen saw advantage in having an outpost representing their interests year round, a town sprang up, bringing with it all the usual trappings to lure value from the hard working mountain men.
Gunner Farren watched the tall Texan approach the plank bar, judging him, looking for details and signs of weakness. He saw none. What he saw was the confidence and strength of a natural leader. He had the firm look of determination on his face.
“Whiskey.” Prophet tossed a silver dollar to the bartender.
Without a word, he poured the shot glass full and moved to the far end of the bar.
Turning, the shot glass in his hand, Tucker raised it in toast to the three men at a corner table. Farren bristled.
“Bartender, set up a round of drinks for the boys in the corner there. All men deserve a last drink before meeting their maker.”
Fred Zimmer stood up fast, upsetting his chair in the process. His hand hovered close to his gun. Gunner Farren reached out laying his hand over the pistol and spoke. Fred righted his chair and sat back down.
“You got balls, I’ll give you that. Thanks for the drink, seems we done fell on slow times. You think you can just waltz in here and take us back to Texas for crimes we didn’t commit?”
“You must be Farren. That would be the robbery of the Butterfield stage west of Big Spring. That one is personal. One of the men you killed there was my younger brother. You left out how you slaughtered the owners of three farms, raped the women, and killed one of my men. Now that too, is personal. That’s a lot of reason for me to see justice served. I’m not here to arrest you or take you back anywhere though. The next trip you take will be to Boot Hill in a pine box.” Prophet grinned, seeing that his words touched a nerve.
“Man, do you really think you can take all three of us? Fred here wants to kill you now and be done with it. Lefty, well he don’t care much either way, he’ll do what I tell him to do.”
“What about you, Gunner, what do you want me to know before you die?” He set his glass on the bar and stepped out in the open.
Chairs skidded across the sawdust-covered wood floor as other patrons cleared a path for the gunfire that was eminent. Men and saloon girls took cover or made for the door as the four men faced each other.
Gunner Farren stood up and raised the fresh drink to the Tucker Prophet. Fred Zimmer joined him and sidestepped to his left for more room.
“All I need to know is your name feller, I have to tell the undertaker who he’s burying.”
The batwing door swung open and Terry Wheeler walked over to join his friend. Right behind him was Shannon Hill, her blonde hair tied back and a forty-five caliber Colt Peacemaker strapped to her slender waist.
“I told you I had a bad feelin’, Gunner,” Lefty Morgan said as he stood with the others to face the guns across the saloon.
Silence so thick a heartbeat would have sounded loud filled the saloon. The ticking of an imported clock counted seconds as the tension built.
Gunner Farren reached for his gun, his hand barely touching the pistol butt. Fred and Lefty followed a split second behind.
At the first move, three hands drew and fired as one. The bloody Farren gang had cleared leather, but never fired a shot. They died as they lived…by the gun. All debts paid in full.
Epilogue
The high-wheel Conestoga wagon clattered along the road into Hill Valley, followed closely by two others. One of the following wagons had a cow tied to the tailgate; the other led a young bull. Two riders sat restive horses as the train approached. The lead driver stopped and set his brake before climbing to the ground to wait for the other men in the party. Together, they walked out to meet the riders.
“We were told to meet Captain Prophet here. Would that be you?”
“It’s just Tucker Prophet. This is my wife, Shannon.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mistress Prophet.” All three touched the brims of floppy felt hats. Turning his attention back to her husband, the leader continued. “I’m James Gilcuddy. This is Winston Perkins and Leroy Jones. We were told that there was good farm land to be had in this valley for us and our families. Is that true?”
“Yes, Mister Gilcuddy, it is. There is ample acreage here for farmsteads on the northern end of the valley. All we ask is that you not claim more land than you can adequately maintain. Also, honor the boundaries of other land holders that have preceded you. We are a peaceful folk here and as long as your intentions are the same, you will find welcome.”
“Well, just point out the way, Mister Prophet. Me and mine have been looking for a decent home for years. I accept your conditions.” Gilcuddy stuck out his hand to seal his part of the deal.
“Mister Prophet, I’m Reverend Winston Perkins. I’m not a farmer. However, the owner of the General Store in Traders Cut spoke of the possibility of me drawing a portion of land to build a house of worship upon. It would only require a small plot for a church and I can offer an extra pair of hands for any work in exchange. May I be of service to your growing community?”
Shannon spoke first. “Reverend Perkins, we would be delighted for you to bring the word of God to us. I think I have the perfect place for a church. There is a cabin on the land already and the knoll beside it overlooks a lake in the small valley two miles from here. It is a mite secluded, but the pass is central to this valley and never has it been blocked by winter snow. We call it Prophets Rest.” Tucker smiled and nodded his approval.
“Madame, I gladly accept. Services can be held on the lake shore until the church can be built.” Perkins turned back to his wagon.
“Then I welcome you to Prophets Rest. Welcome to you all. Reverend, may I make a request?”
“Surely, Mister Prophet, if it’s within my ability to grant.”
“Once you are settled in and open for business, would you do Shannon and me the honor of presiding over a proper wedding? It would be nice to have our vows heard by a man of God and our friends and family and the words spoken to seal our bond together.”
“Mister Prophet, it will indeed be my pleasure. Thank you.”
About the Auth
or:
A.C. Croom works and writes in the desert town of Odessa, Texas with his wife Ann, two grown children and five grandchildren, the oldest of which has joined our nation’s military to help fight our enemies in the war on terrorism.
Though not a Texan by birth; life there has ingrained a sense of the old west into his mannerisms and writing. A.C. writes in several genre; Western, Romance and Historical.
Visit him online at:
http://accroom.blogspot.com
http://www.texasauthoraccroom.com/saddles-and-sagebrush.html
Other Titles by A. C. Croom
Delta Trails by Arthur C. Croom
Digital ISBN 9781615722808
Print ISBN: 9781615722815
Coming December 2011
The Guns of Lazerus Thorne
Also from Eternal Press:
Delta Trails
by Arthur C. Croom
eBook ISBN: 9781615722808
Print ISBN: 9781615722815
Historical Romance
Novel of 65,000 words
Two men return home after the war thinking their fight was over; it was just beginning. Elation at being home after three years quickly turns to anger and then frustration as Nate Parker pursues the fiends that have taken his fiancé. The year long search along Delta Trails leads him into danger that he gladly faces as retribution for the wrongs done to himself and his neighbors.
When the final showdown comes he and others put their lives on the line to eliminate a well organized gang of criminals preying upon the people of the south that have been left little enough after five years of constant warfare. In the end, Justice wins out.
Nate has other battles to fight; those of a more personal nature. He has to decide if he wants to remain what he has become or go back to the life his parents raised him to lead.
Also from Eternal Press:
McBride’s Treasure
by Bruce Cooke
eBook ISBN: 9781615724130
Print ISBN: 9781615724130
Romance Western
Novel of 58,927 words
Rebecca McBride has faced danger before but this time her whole family is threatened. How can she defeat two criminals who want the whole of her family dead and claim their land. Murder and attempted murder shows that Colonial Australia has always had its dangers but this is a fight to the end. Can she win her battle and ensure her own happiness at the same time with a man who knows her past but is willing to forgive.
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