Entwined Paths (The Landon Saga Book 2) Read online

  ENTWINED PATHS

  Tell Cotten

  Also by Tell Cotten

  CONFESSIONS OF A GUNFIGHTER

  COOPER

  Dedication

  To my son Ethan; a chip off the old block

  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.

  Cover Art:

  Marcy Meinke/Converse Printing & Design

  www.ConversePrinting.com

  [email protected]

  Publisher’s Note:

  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.

  Solstice Publishing - www.solsticepublishing.com

  Copyright 2013 Tell Cotten

  2nd edition

  Part 1

  Texas, 1872

  Day One

  Chapter one

  Cliff Curtis rubbed his shoulder gingerly as he looked down into the valley. Behind him, his men waited impatiently.

  The valley was long and narrow. And, except for a few trees scattered about, the valley was open country without much cover.

  Cliff frowned as he pulled out his watch and glanced at it. According to the time, the stage should be here.

  He winced as he returned his watch to his shirt pocket.

  “Is your shoulder bothering you again?” Rusty Curtis asked his older brother.

  “It never stops bothering me,” Cliff grumbled. “Specially in the mornings.”

  “You’ve probably still got some lead in there,” Rusty suggested.

  Cliff didn’t answer. He was looking in the far distance, and he narrowed his eyes.

  “See that dust? That’s got to be the stage.”

  Rusty looked and nodded.

  “Probably so.”

  “Get ready,” Cliff said as he looked back at his men.

  Everybody knew what had to be done. Cliff had laid out his plans the night before, and had carefully gone over every detail.

  Everyone but Brian Clark and Rusty had grumbled about Cliff’s persistence. But then Rusty reminded everybody that his older brother had ridden with the likes of Ben Kinrich, Lee Mattingly, and Rondo Landon, and he knew what he was talking about.

  Brian Clark had also ridden with these men, but nobody cared about that. Everyone considered him to be old and wore out, and they couldn’t figure out why Cliff had let him come along.

  Brian was in his mid-fifties. He was a grizzled veteran, and he had been an outlaw longer than most of these other fellers had even been alive.

  He also had a gentle-like way about him that the others didn’t have. Everybody else was always eager to kill, and that bothered Brian.

  In all, there were six men.

  Two of them were hot headed, teenage brothers named Clyde and Clay Taylor. They were brash and confident, and they were also eager to make a name for themselves. Both were green. But, their gun skills were sufficient enough, and they were plenty tough.

  The best marksman was Utah ‘Stew’ Baine. He favored his Henry rifle, and his accuracy was legendary.

  Stew had dark hair, and he was tall and slim. He was mighty sure of himself, and he spoke his mind freely.

  Lately Stew had been questioning Cliff’s authority, and it was only a matter of time before there was trouble. But, Cliff was confident that he could handle Stew.

  Cliff was in his late thirties, and he was built like an ox. His gun skills were better than most, and he also liked to fight with his huge, massive fists.

  During the Civil War he had ridden with Quantrill’s raiders, and afterwards he drifted out west. Once there he joined up with Ben Kinrich’s outfit, and after that he organized his own outfit. So far they had only done small jobs, and this was their first big robbery.

  Then there was Rusty.

  Rusty was ten years younger than Cliff, and he had grown up hearing all about his wild, older brother. He wanted to be just like Cliff, and so far he was doing a good job of it.

  Cliff crouched beside a tree. Everybody else found some cover, and they waited in silence.

  The stage finally turned into the valley and came straight towards them.

  “All right, Stew,” Cliff said softly. “Make sure and drop those horses. You wound them and we’ll have to chase ’em plumb to Mexico.”

  “I know my job,” Stew glared at Cliff.

  “Then do it!”

  Stew’s Henry rifle was already loaded and cocked. He brought the rifle to his shoulder, took aim, and fired.

  A split second later there was the loud thumping sound of a bullet hitting flesh, and a horse squealed in terror.

  Stew fired three more times in rapid fashion, and all three shots hit their mark. All the horses squealed and kicked out as they went down, and just like that the stage was stuck.

  “Get the driver and the man riding shotgun,” Cliff said calmly.

  Stew worked the lever as he put another bullet into the chamber, and then he took aim.

  The driver jumped off the coach right as Stew fired. The bullet hit the man in the back, and he was dead when he hit the ground.

  The man riding shotgun meanwhile, jumped down and took cover behind the wheel.

  He thought he was well hidden. But, Stew’s next bullet hit him in the chest, and his body was thrown over backwards.

  There were a few terrified screams from inside the coach, but then there was silence.

  “Doesn’t get much easier than that!” Cliff laughed as he stood. “That was good shooting, Stew. I couldn’t have done it any better myself.”

  Stew grunted in response while Cliff turned towards the horses.

  “Stay here and cover us while we go on down,” he said.

  Stew nodded curtly as he reloaded his Henry rifle.

  It was then that Cliff noticed Brian. He had a troubled look, and Cliff laughed.

  “What’s the matter, Brian? Is your conscience bothering you again?”

  “They never had a chance,” Brian frowned distastefully.

  “That is correct. If it makes you feel better, next time I’ll let you go down and be a target for ’em,” Cliff laughed wolfishly.

  Brian Clark frowned but didn’t reply as everybody but Stew mounted up.

  They kicked up their horses and made their way down into the valley. Then, they loped up to the stage and surrounded it.

  “You inside!” Cliff yelled. “Come on out, real slow like.”

  It was silent, and then the door opened.

  “Don’t shoot!” A man pleaded.

  “Come on out,” Cliff demanded.

  Four passengers stepped out slowly.

  Two of the passengers were middle-aged men, and they were real careful to keep their hands up where they could be seen.

  The other two passengers were women.

  One was a plump, elderly lady, and her face was flushed and hot. She was in a state of shock as she stared numbly at the situation.

  The last passenger was a young woman. She clutched a small carpetbag, and it partly hid the blue and white dress she wore. She had a good figure, long blond hair, and light blue eyes.

  Everything came to a stop as everybody stared at her. Cliff noticed this, and he snapped everybody out of it.

  “Clyde, you and Clay get the payroll box down. Rusty, you get the saddlebags ready. Clark and I will take care of the passengers.”
/>   Everybody got busy while Cliff studied the passengers.

  “Any of you armed?” He asked.

  The two men shook their heads.

  “You lie and I’ll kill you,” Cliff warned.

  They insisted that they weren’t armed. Cliff nodded, satisfied, and it fell silent as he studied them.

  He thought about robbing them too, but then he decided against it. They were dressed plainly, and he doubted that they had much.

  The young woman meanwhile, looked all around her, and she shook her head angrily.

  “What kind of man would shoot men and horses like that!” She demanded to know.

  Brian’s face turned red, but Cliff just grinned.

  “A good shot,” Cliff said wryly.

  “You’re a coward!”

  “No, ma’am, just lazy,” Cliff replied. “If possible I didn’t want to chase you, and shooting those horses was the easiest way.”

  “You won’t get away with this!”

  “I don’t see anybody stopping me,” Cliff replied, and then he laughed. “Unless you’re planning on doing it.”

  The young woman looked angry, but she managed to choke back her response.

  It was then that Cliff noticed the small carpetbag.

  “What’s in there?”

  “It’s none of your business!” The young woman declared, and her eyes flashed angrily.

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” Cliff answered smugly. “Hand it over.”

  The young woman just stood there, so Cliff added firmly, “Now, lady.”

  She sullenly stepped forward and handed over her carpetbag. Cliff grinned as he looped the handles over his saddle horn.

  “Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate your hospitality,” he said, and his eyes twinkled.

  The young woman didn’t reply. Instead, she crossed her arms and glared back.

  By now Rusty had emptied the money from the payroll box into his saddlebags. He tied the saddlebags on behind his saddle and looked at Cliff.

  “We’re ready,” Rusty told him as everybody mounted up.

  Cliff nodded and looked back at the passengers.

  “You all get back inside, and don’t come back out until after we’ve gone.”

  They did as they were told.

  Just before the young woman climbed back in, she gave Cliff another searing glare. Then, she slammed the door shut.

  Cliff laughed as he turned to his men.

  “All right, let’s go.”

  As they rode out, they failed to notice the shotgun rider.

  He had been sprawled out on the ground presumed dead. But now he painfully rolled over, grabbed the wheel, and pulled himself up.

  He steadied himself against the stagecoach, and then he reached down and grabbed his rifle. He took a long, careful aim. Then, he let out his breath and fired.

  Chapter two

  Sergeant Jason Wagons stood awkwardly just inside the doorway of the state police headquarters at Midway, Texas.

  He was a chubby fellow with fair skin and red cheeks. Nineteen and green, he was eager to impress his superior officer, who at the moment was eating a late breakfast with his brother.

  “You’re telling me the men are sick?” Yancy Landon looked at Sergeant Wagons in disbelief. “What’s wrong with them?”

  “The doc thinks it’s a mild case of food poisoning, sir.”

  Yancy frowned as he thought on that.

  “And you’re the only feller besides me and Coop that ain’t sick?”

  “Yes, sir,” Sergeant Wagons replied wistfully. “Everybody else has the squirts so bad all they have to do is cough, and -.”

  “You don’t have to explain it in detail,” Yancy interrupted, and with a distasteful frown he pushed his food away.

  “Sorry, sir.”

  Yancy got up and refilled his cup of coffee. He sat back down, poured some sugar in, and stirred slowly.

  Sergeant Wagons stood uncomfortably. His crisp uniform did not fit his bulky frame, and he wanted badly to unbutton his collar buttons. But, he didn’t have the nerve while in the presence of Yancy.

  Yancy noticed his discomfort, but he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he sat there quietly, and after a while he looked up at Sergeant Wagons.

  “Tell the men to stay in their quarters. I doubt they’re contagious, but it won’t hurt to be safe. In the meantime, you can move in here with us.”

  “Thank you, sir!” Sergeant Wagons saluted sharply, and he wheeled around and left hastily.

  Yancy’s face was dark.

  “I had planned on going out on a patrol tomorrow,” he complained to his older brother.

  Cooper Landon smiled wryly as he got up and grabbed the pot of coffee.

  “Well, you and ol’ Wagons enjoy yourselves,” Cooper said as he filled his cup and sat back down. “In case you forgot; let me remind you. As of this morning I’m on a four week furlough.”

  “I remember.”

  Cooper’s smile widened as he leaned back in his chair.

  “First furlough I’ve had since -,” Cooper paused while he thought back. “Well, since way before the war. Five, six years probably.”

  “I know that,” Yancy frowned. “We’ve been together that whole time.”

  “Soon as the stage gets here with payroll, I’m going to buy me a mule and some traps,” Cooper continued. “Then, I’m going to head to those New Mexico Mountains and lose myself for a couple weeks.”

  “More’n likely you’ll lose your hair instead,” Yancy grumbled.

  “It could be a prosperous trip,” Cooper said as he ignored Yancy’s comment. “Beaver pelts are worth a small fortune back east these days, and they say those mountains are crawling with beaver.”

  “Probably crawling with Injuns too,” Yancy replied sourly. “Besides, you’ve never trapped a beaver in your life.”

  “There’s always a first time,” Cooper replied. “And, that’s not my only reason for going. Mostly, I’m just tired of rules and regulations.”

  “How’s that?” Yancy looked up sharply.

  “Ever since I’ve been in a uniform, there’s always been some –,” Cooper paused for effect, “-‘superior officer’ telling me what I can and can’t do.”

  Yancy thought on that and frowned.

  “Mostly I’ve been your superior officer.”

  “I know,” Cooper grinned.

  Yancy grunted in response, and they said no more as Cooper finished breakfast. But Cooper knew what his little brother was thinking, and he couldn’t help but smile.

  Yancy Landon was a very somber man. He never talked unless he had too, and when he did it was always clear, certain, and to the point. Yancy was also painfully honest, no matter what the cost.

  Cooper was the more relaxed type. He liked life to go at a slower pace, and he also liked to think things out before he acted.

  The Landons were a well-known family. Except for their cousin Rondo, they were known for their honesty and integrity.

  They were also known for their mean temper during times of trouble.

  But Yancy and Cooper knew better. It wasn’t a temper. Instead, it was a feeling that they got down deep inside.

  It was a feeling of confidence, calmness, loneliness, sharp keenness, and pure meanness all rolled up into one. It also dulled the senses, and many times they had been hurt and didn’t even know it until afterwards.

  This feeling ran in the Landon blood. Their Pa and uncles had felt it, as had several other cousins.

  Yancy and Cooper had been riding together for a long time. Yancy had been a lawman back east before the war, and Cooper had been his deputy. Then the war broke out, and they joined on the same day. It didn’t take Yancy long to be promoted to a Captain, and Cooper was a Lieutenant.

  Yancy’s name was well-known by the time the war was over. They both received honorable discharges, and they came out west.

  It didn’t take long for them to be pulled back into service. Because of his reputation, Yancy was
promoted to Captain in the new Texas police force, and they were both assigned to Midway.

  At the time there was an epic range war going on.

  J.T. Tussle, a salty old cowman, had control of most the range, but there were a lot of greedy cattlemen that wanted it. It was a tough fight, and by the time it was over Yancy and Cooper’s reputations were known all over Texas.

  Yancy got most of the attention, mostly because he was real good with that Colt six-shooter of his. That, and the fact that he was real handsome looking sure didn’t hurt.

  But Cooper was just as dangerous.

  Tall and wide shouldered, Cooper wasn’t nearly as good with a six-shooter. Instead, his specialty was with his Henry rifle. He was real accurate with it, and mighty quick too. He had a special way of swinging it up, and it was almost as fast as Yancy’s draw.

  Cooper was also a very good tracker.

  The sound of scuffling feet interrupted their thoughts, and they looked up and spotted J.T. Tussle in the doorway.

  Tussle was an ex rebel, and proud of it. He respected the Landons, but he also never forgot that they had fought on different sides.

  Tussle was a tall man with a wide frame. He had a weathered face that was trenched with deep lines, and those lines changed shape when he smiled or frowned.

  “I thought I smelled coffee,” Tussle hinted as he glanced at the stove.

  “Help yourself,” Cooper offered.

  Tussle nodded and made his way over to the coffee pot.

  “Eating a late breakfast,” Tussle remarked disapprovingly.

  Yancy was silent, so Cooper smiled pleasantly.

  “We are.”

  Tussle waited for an explanation. He didn’t get one, so he poured a cup of coffee and sat at the table.

  “Where’s the rest of your outfit?” Tussle asked.

  “They all have a belly-ache,” Cooper explained. “They’re probably in the nearest outhouse.”

  “Hmm,” Tussle grunted. “It’s good to see our hard earned tax dollars being put to good use.”

  Yancy looked up and stared intently at Tussle. Cooper, meanwhile, ignored Tussle’s remark as he changed the subject.