John King Bounty Hunter

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John King Bounty Hunter Page 4

by Robert J. Gossett


  They sat on the bed and sipped coffee as they talked. Lola asked, “Do you have to leave today?”

  “I’m afraid so. I have to be in Houston for an eight a.m. meeting Monday, so I’ll have to leave this morning,” John answered.

  “I wish you could stay longer,” Lola offered.

  “Believe me, I would love to enjoy this kind of treatment a little while longer. The last two months have been nothing but work, worry, tension, and stress, and I am worn out with it,” John answered.

  Lola fixed him ham, eggs, and biscuits, then kissed him as he dressed to leave.

  Lola walked with him to his horse, kissed him, and said, “Please come back soon.”

  “I will, and as soon as I find a place to live I’ll send you a wire and invite you to come and spend a weekend at my place. Can you do that?”

  “Of course I can, and I will,” she responded. John kissed her, hard, and rode off for Houston.

  It was late when he reached the outskirts of Houston, so he checked into a hotel, cared for Diablo, then went to his room to get a bath, a good night’s sleep, and to prepare for his meeting the next morning. By six the next morning he was on Diablo and en route to Mike Ward’s office.

  When he walked in, he found Mike and Moriarity waiting for him.

  Moriarity got right down to business asking what was in the illegally opened safe. John used his amazing memory to recite the safe’s contents including the list of securities, including the amounts of each security, even reciting the serial numbers. Moriarity told him, “I see your memory hasn’t started failing you.”

  “I’ll take it from here,” the professor said.

  “Who will you go after first?” Mike asked John.

  “That depends on who you have information on,” John answered him.

  “Nothing on Samuels or the Keegan brothers, but I discovered a big stack of wanted posters on Indian Bob. He is one mean son of a bitch. Last week he shot two deputies in the back at Galveston. They were trying to guard a cargo boat carrying liquor, and he caught them off-guard and killed them. Then he and two accomplices stole an entire wagon load of scotch whiskey.”

  “Suppose the Keegans helped him?” John asked.

  “Could be. Nobody identified his cronies,” Mike answered him.

  “Why don’t you let me ask the Texas Rangers to help you?” Mike asked.

  “No thanks. They don’t know me, and I’ll have a better chance of sneaking up on them if I don’t have rangers with me,” John responded.

  John rode toward Galveston but decided to stop by the ranch on the way. He found Lisa and Maria all settled in and happy to be working at the ranch.

  Deciding to try a little deception, John found one of his dad’s suits and changed into it. It fit him fairly well but was a little large in the waist and a little short in the legs; still, John thought it would serve the purpose.

  Chapter 5

  John Meets the Killers

  In Galveston he went from bar to bar, identifying himself as a saloon owner from San Antonio looking to buy some cheap liquor. Two days he did this and finally was contacted by a shady looking character who told him he could get his hands on some cheap scotch.

  “That’s a start, but I need bourbon too,” John said, trying to act not real interested.

  The stranger told him, “Well, I know I can get the scotch now and bourbon later.”

  “How much?” John asked.

  “Twenty-five cents a bottle as much as you want to buy,” came the answer.

  John said, “I will need a sample, and if I like it I’ll take 800 bottles.” All this time he was wondering if he was negotiating with one of the Keegans.

  The stranger introduced himself as Clay Collins. John remembered Clay was also the name of the Keegan brothers.

  They agreed to meet the following day at noon on Pier 3 at the docks.

  Clay told him, “You bring the money, and I’ll bring a sample of the scotch.”

  “Oh, no, I didn’t just fall off of a wagon load of turnips. I’ll taste the sample and if I like it, I’ll give you the money when I get the merchandise,” John said.

  Clay agreed and John returned to his hotel room, hoping all went well tomorrow. The next morning John had biscuits and gravy in the hotel dining room, then got his horse and rode to the agreed meeting place, a house about five miles from town. Upon arrival, he saw that two other men were with Clay. One of them resembled Clay and the other was obviously an Indian. John thought to himself, I hit the jackpot. No doubt these are the Keegan brothers and Indian Bob. Be alert and watch yourself.

  “You bring the money?” Clay asked.

  “Where’s the merchandise?” John asked.

  The Indian opened the door to the next room and there on the floor were 80 boxes, each containing ten bottles of scotch.

  “Now show me the money,” Clay demanded.

  “I left it at the hotel. I’ll go back and rent a wagon to move the whiskey and bring the money back with me,” John told him.

  “You’re a liar. The money is not at the hotel. We searched your room this morning,” Clay sneered.

  “I told you yesterday, I didn’t fall off a wagon load of turnips. The money is in the hotel safe. I wouldn’t leave that much money lying around,” John said.

  The Indian said, “He lies. Search him.”

  “Oh no, I told you I’ll bring the money,” John angrily replied.

  What happened after that was, at best, a blurred memory. John felt pain on the left side of his head then pain in his left arm. He vaguely remembered emptying his Peacemaker at the three, then drawing and firing his Lightning, then complete darkness.

  Left for dead, he awoke in about half an hour. Both Keegans were dead, and there was blood where Indian Bob had been standing. To be sure the Keegans were both dead, John reloaded his Peacemaker and shot the Keegans again in the head. Other than the blood on the floor there was no sign of Indian Bob.

  John then wrapped his bandana around the wound on his head. Luckily a bullet had only creased his head. Then he looked at his arm; it hurt like hell and was bleeding profusely. He remembered reading about how to stop bleeding by cauterizing the wound, so he removed the bullet from one of the .45 cartridges and emptied the powder on the wound. He lit the powder with a match. He felt pain like he had never felt before but the bleeding lessened, then stopped. He could barely stand but he somehow got through the door and managed to drag himself onto Diablo. Hoping he didn’t pass out from blood loss, he rode to Galveston, first to the doctor’s office, then to the police department. All the way to town John kept thinking to himself, Damn it, damn it. I had all three of them and let Indian Bob get away.

  As it turned out, he didn’t have to go to the police station. Dr. Adams took one look at him and sent for the police.

  Dr. Adams told John, “You were lucky son. Your scalp was grazed slightly, and the shot to your arm missed the bone. Your head will heal in a few days but your arm will be only partly unusable for a couple of weeks.”

  Jim Kline was the police officer who questioned John about his injuries. As he talked, John felt for his money belt, and it was still there. That was the reason he didn’t want to be searched.

  John identified himself, and then related the entire story to Officer Kline and Dr. Adams. Kline carefully took notes for the report he had to file, and then asked John why he was after those men.

  John told him, “Those three bastards killed my parents and beat and raped my sister, who now is just a vegetable.”

  Kline said, “Oh yes, I read about that in the paper, but you shouldn’t have gone up against them alone.”

  “You’re right. Chief Ward in Houston wanted me to bring some rangers with me, but I was too stubborn to listen to him,” John admitted.

  Then John asked Kline to send a wire to Houston and inform Chi
ef Ward of today’s happenings.

  Then John told Kline, “If you will go out to the house where it happened I think you will find the Keegans and some of the scotch whiskey they stole.”

  Kline told John, “I’ll send the wire first then go out there right away.”

  “Better take someone with you in case Indian Bob is still hanging around,” John warned him.

  “Thanks, I will, but I hope the son of a bitch is still there,” Kline responded.

  Then Dr. Adams told John, “You won’t be able to travel for a couple of days. You can stay here today and tonight. I’ll have someone tend to your horse, and we’ll see how you feel in the morning.”

  “Thanks Doc. I can pay you,” John said.

  “Money is the last thing on my mind right now. I just want to make sure those wounds of yours don’t start bleeding again,” Doc Adams reminded him.

  Alone for a few minutes, John fell into a deep sleep, weak from the loss of blood, and stunned by the day’s events. He had never killed anyone before, but he vowed he would still try to kill Indian Bob, then Samuels.

  Without realizing it, John slept for four hours even lying on the hard examination table. He was awakened by Kline, who told him they found the bodies of the Keegans and the liquor. He said a stray shot had ripped through the boxes of scotch, and liquor was all over the floor.

  He also reported the chief had a return wire from Mike Ward asking them to take John to his ranch west of town, and thanking them for looking after his friend.

  John told him, “I would appreciate a ride to the ranch, but first I’ll need to check out of the hotel. I would appreciate it if you would go there with me. Indian Bob knows where I was staying, and I fear he may be there waiting for me.”

  “Of course I’ll go with you, and I hope the dirty bastard is there. I would be happy to kill him for you,” Kline said.

  Kline checked the room first, and then told John it was OK to enter. John went in, changed into his black clothes, threw away his Dad’s ruined suit, and then checked out.

  The two of them rode in the buggy to the ranch, John’s horse tied to the buggy.

  On the way, Kline said, “Oh, John, I almost forgot, there was a $250 bounty on each of the Keegans, so you have $500 coming. Pretty easy money, huh?”

  “I would rather not have the money and not been shot. I didn’t do it for the money. Please tell the chief to mail it to me at the ranch,” John told him.

  “Will do,” Kline answered.

  John was still weak so Kline helped him into the ranch house where he was mobbed by Juan, Maria, and Lisa. John explained what had transpired and Juan helped him into his bed, saying he would spend the night in the bunk house.

  Lisa and Maria fussed over him as if he were their child with a skinned knee. Juan thanked Kline, took charge of Diablo, and Kline rode off to Galveston.

  John rested up for three days as the girls changed his bandages, cooked for him, and nursed him back to health. His wounds were almost healed, but he still kept his left arm in a sling to keep pressure off of his wound.

  It was Friday morning when John had unexpected visitors. Professor Moriarity and Chief Ward rode up in a buggy.

  Moriarity and Ward greeted him warmly, Mike Ward calling him the wounded warrior. John learned the two of them had become friends while working together trying to unravel the mess created by Samuels. Moriarity gave John good news: “I’m happy to tell you I got your house and office building back for you,” he said.

  “How did you ever do that so fast?” John asked.

  “That was relatively easy. Samuels is not so smart after all. Instead of hiring a good forger, he apparently counterfeited your signature himself. The judge only had to compare the signatures on the two deeds, and he laughed out loud. Then he issued a court order deeding both of them back to you,” Moriarity reported.

  “Thank you, sir,” John told him.

  Then Mike Ward spoke up, “I have good news for you too. Here is a voucher for $500, as reward for killing the two Keegan brothers.”

  “But I already got a reward for them from the City of Galveston,” John said.

  “This reward is from the State of Texas, who wanted them for murder. That other reward was for the recovery of the scotch whiskey,” Ward explained.

  “I didn’t know bounty hunting could be so profitable,” John chuckled.

  “Yeah, it is if you live long enough, and you almost didn’t,” Mike said.

  After having lunch Maria and Lisa fixed for them, John, Moriarity and Mike left for Houston in the buggy, with Diablo tethered behind.

  During the trip, Mike asked John, “Where do you plan to live?”

  “I hadn’t thought much about it, but even if I have my parents’ house back, I couldn’t very well live there, with no furniture and no help,” John told him.

  “Well, the reason I asked is that a new residence hotel just opened up. It is called the Wedgewood. They have a small café in it but no bar. It is for people who want the conveniences of a hotel but plan on staying there permanently. I hear it even has an attended stable for the horses of guests,” Mike told him.

  “Sounds like just what I need for the time being,” John answered.

  Then Moriarity interrupted, “If you don’t want to do that, I’m sure my lady friend Shirley would be happy to have you stay with her until you get back on your feet.”

  “That would be nice of her, but I wouldn’t think of putting her out,” John answered.

  “Well, I still have a lot of work to do tracking down your stocks and bonds. That Samuels fellow traded all of them for bearer bonds, which means he can cash them anywhere. But I will recover them for you; it will just take a little more time. Of course that means I’ll have to stay in Houston a lot longer, but I am liking staying with Shirley anyways,” Moriarity confessed to them.

  Mike and John laughed.

  Mike and Moriarity waited in the buggy while John went in to check out the Wedgewood. After a few minutes they knew John had rented a room there when an attendant emerged, retrieved John’s horse, and took him to the stable.

  Then John came out saying, “Thanks for waiting. I took a room there. I like it a lot. Professor, I guess you can go ahead with your idea of selling the house and office building. I think this place will do nicely.”

  Saying their good-byes and accepting John’s thanks, they left. John spent the rest of the day napping and getting a bath. The next morning he had breakfast in the small café in the hotel. The attendant had saddled Diablo, and John rode to St. Agnes Hospital to see Sarah.

  A smiling Sister Ruth greeted him at the door. Damn, she’s too pretty to be a nun, John thought.

  “Hello, John. God bless you,” she greeted him.

  “Thank you, Sister. How is Sarah?” John asked.

  “Well, earlier this week we had a glimmer of hope when she opened her eyes for a few minutes, but then she lapsed back into unconsciousness,” she responded.

  Upon seeing his sister lying there, he wanted to cry but instead replaced his grief with rage, and repeated his promise to get even with Indian Bob, the only one left of the original four.

  He sat by her bedside and talked to her as if she could hear him, “Dear Sarah, I found the Keegins and killed them, and I almost had the Indian but he got away. But I promise you I will get him, too.”

  Feeling like he might cry again, John left.

  He first rode to the telegram office where he sent a telegram to Lola. He advised her of his new address and invited her to visit him, when and if she got a chance.

  Then he rode to the police station. He told Mike he planned on taking some time off, then going after Indian Bob. A return telegram from Lola was waiting for him when he returned to the Wedgewood. She asked him to meet the Thursday train and she would be on it. He thought, It will be good to see her, have a li
ttle fun, and have someone to change the bandages for me.

  Thursday morning John got up early, had breakfast at the hotel restaurant, then retrieved his horse and went shopping for some wine, good bourbon, and a gift for Lola. He decided to get her a silver bracelet with a single silver heart on which he had engraved “Lola,” then he met the train.

  As soon as she spotted John, Lola ran to him, kissed him and blurted out, “John, you’ve been wounded. What happened?”

  “Let’s go to my place first and have a drink. Then I’ll tell you all about it.”

  Lola had questions during the buggy ride to the hotel, but John remained vague until he could relate the entire story.

  Lola made herself at home and poured each of them a large bourbon, then said, “Now, you tell me all about how you got hurt.”

  “I will sweetheart, but first, before I forget, let me reimburse you for your train ticket,” he told her.

  Lola’s mood instantly turned sour as she said angrily, “Reimburse me? Reimburse me—what do you think I am, some whore you can pay to come and have sex with you?”

  “No, oh no, that is not how I meant it. I know most college students don’t have a lot of extra money,” John said, trying to apologize.

  Still sounding angry, Lola said, “John, I guess we never talked about this before, but my daddy is one of the richest men in Dallas. He is president of Bigelow Oil, and my mother, Bambi, inherited the biggest feed lot in Fort Worth. I have an older brother Sully, but I am their only daughter. They give me more money that I can spend.”

  “Er, um, I’m so sorry,” John stammered, still trying to apologize.

  Lola finally calmed down and said, “OK, let’s just forget it. I am here because you do things to me that make me feel good, and because I like you.”

  John took her in his arms and told her, “Lola, I like you, too, and the things you do to me make me feel good too. Now let’s have another drink.”

  “I’ll fix the drinks and you tell me all about how you were wounded,” Lola said.

 

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