The Legend of Texas Jack

The Legend of Texas Jack

Written By

Bill Chamberlain

Prolog

This is the tale of one mean nasty outlaw, Texas Jack was one of the fastest guns the west had ever seen. He had outlived or outgunned every outlaw and lawman in Texas. As a boy, life turned him to the gun and he idolized men who lived by the gun and no matter what his mother said he was bound to make his way in the west and if that meant he used a six shooter, then that's what he would do. It took some time but He soon mastered the six shooter and was well on his way to becoming a legend himself. Jack robbed banks, and along the way shot several men dead.

Chapter One

The Beginning

In the small West Texas town of El Paso, Jack was born on a cold winter's day in December. His mother, a good Christian woman, had been convinced by her new husband that going west would be good for her health as she was a weak frail woman and had been so since a young girl. So it was that in 1898 John Williams and his wife Emily set off on what John said would be the adventure of a lifetime. They finally settled in the small village of El Paso never knowing that the adventure would soon turn into a nightmare for all concerned. On the trip west Emily had become pregnant with what would be their first and only child, the small boy born somewhere between Mississippi and the Texas border. It was a very rough birth and while their son would live, Emily was told she would never be able to have any more children. By the time they made it to El Paso, Emily had regained what there was left of her health and the boy had been named John Junior.

Life had never been easy for John Williams Sr. His mother and father died when he was just a boy and he was sent to live with his Aunt Bessie in Chattanooga, Tennessee where he grew up under the strict hand of his Aunt’s new husband, Uncle Charles. John Sr. Left home at seventeen and joined the confederate Army. He was wounded on the first day of the battle of Shiloh, which was an early battle in the Western Theater of the American Civil War, fought on April 6–7, 1862, in southwestern Tennessee. The Union Army of the Tennessee, led by Major General Ulysses S. Grant, had moved via the Tennessee River deep into Tennessee and was encamped principally at Pittsburg Landing on the west bank of the Tennessee River, where the Confederate Army of Mississippi led by General Albert Sidney Johnston, and P. G. T. Beauregard was second-in-command, launching a surprise attack on Grant's army from its base in Corinth, Mississippi. Johnston was mortally wounded during the fighting; Beauregard took command of the army and decided against pressing the attack late in the evening. Overnight, Grant was reinforced by one of his divisions stationed farther north and was joined by three divisions from the Army of the Ohio led by Maj. Gen. Don Carlos Buell. The Union forces began an unexpected counterattack the next morning which reversed the Confederate gains of the previous day. John Sr. Spent a good part of the war in a hospital in Tennessee and was sent home due to his wound.

John Sr. was an angry bitter man, angry about losing the war, angry at the rifle ball that remained in his lower back and the pain that it caused but he did his best to work through the pain at a black smith shop in his hometown of Chattanooga, Tennessee for four years until he married and felt that his fortune was out west. His wife, Emily was a frail, sickly woman and had been all her life. John fell in love and convinced her that the move to Texas and a warmer climate would not only improve the health of his new bride, but that he might be able to find work for better pay at Hart’s Mill.

Shortly after arriving in El Paso, the family moved into a small two room shack, it wasn’t much more than a small kitchen, one bedroom and an open living area, just on the edge of town. A short time later John was hired at Hart’s Mill, unfortunately the mill closed down two years later and John was out of a job and in such a small village there wasn’t a lot of work to be found. What he did find was small jobs cleaning at the El Paso cafe and a local saloon. The lack of work only served to increase his anger and after drinking away whatever wages he may have earned he would come home drunk and take out his anger on Emily.

The small town of El Paso had become a violent and wild boomtown known as the "Six-shooter Capital" because of its lawlessness. Indeed, prostitution and gambling flourished and with the lawlessness came more and more outlaws. John Sr. and his family did their best, but life was rough, times were bad and John’s drinking didn’t help. The more he drank the more he would abuse Emily until one day ten years later, John Jr., sick and tired of seeing his mother beaten, decided to take revenge. He waited for his father to come home drunk and as he started his assault on Emily, John Jr. pulled his father’s gun from the holster that was hung on the wall, slowly and quietly walked up and put the gun to his father’s head and pulled the trigger, killing his father instantly.

With the sound of the gun shot John Jr’s mother screamed and pulled the body from on top of her. She looked at her dead husband laying on the floor beside her and then at her son, and gestured John Jr. to her side and held him tightly. There would be no investigation into the shooting because there was no law to speak of in El Paso, so in the middle of the moonlit night John Jr. and Emily drug the lifeless body out back and dug a shallow grave and threw the body in. Why anyone would ask about her husband, she would simply say that he rode away in the middle of the night leaving them to fend for themselves.

That night they buried John Sr. and that night Jr. decided to change his name to Jack, a simple derivative of the name John. He no longer wanted to be known as the son of John Williams Sr. He took his mother’s maiden name as his own and was from that day forward to be known as Jack Ryder and soon to be known far and wide as Texas Jack.

Killing his father changed the boy. He was once a kind happy go lucky kind of boy, without a care in the world, but all too soon he began to see what his father was. He realized that his father was an evil man. John Jr. had always been as gentle as a lamb but now, as he watched and saw the fear in his mother’s eyes, he could no longer stand idly by as his mother was brutally beaten, night after night. John Jr. was angry that he had been forced to kill to protect his mother. John Jr. had seen the anger in his fathers eyes, he had seen how ruthless he was with his mother. He knew that he must do something, but he was nothing more than a boy with no recourse but to endure the punishment along with his mother. Then, finally fed up with the fear and the beatings, the screaming, the blood flowing from her lips and nose, all exploded inside him and he knew he must do something to end his mother’s pain. He was transformed almost overnight into a man/boy that would do anything to protect his mother.

From that day on Jack became obsessed with his father’s Colt Walker revolver. It was an older Colt but it was the one he fired to kill his father. He would stand in the backyard of their small shack and practice firing at bottles on the fence. It took some time but before long he was hitting the bottles every time on the first shot. Jack took up the work that his father had been doing and with the money he earned he not only fed the family and had enough to buy ammo and he took the bottles from the saloon. His fathers holster and belt were too big for him in the beginning but as time went on he grew into them. In time Jack was becoming an excellent shot and with each draw he would improve his time until with each draw and each shot he would hit his target and return the revolver to the holster faster and faster.

Soon Jack was a young man of fifteen, he had grown up to be a tall handsome lad with fiery red hair and green eyes that could see right through you. His once scrawny body had filled out nicely. His mother worried about him constantly and while she knew there was nothing she could say to make him stop wearing the revolver, she prayed that the boy would come to his senses and start leading a life he could be proud of. Still, with every day Jack’s life led him closer and closer to a life of crime. His mother had taught him to read and write and whenever he could he would stop off at the sheriff's office to look at the wanted posters. Texas criminals like Henry Johnson, wanted for robbery and murder, Wade Felder and William Frizzel, each wanted and executed for murder. The last was long and he would read over the wanted posters again and again thinking of what it must be like to be on the run, to rob a train and to once again put a bullet in a man. He never once thought of getting caught and hung like these men. Their exploits excited him and he knew one day there would be a poster with his likeness on it.

He had never been caught, but she knew he had stolen things from the cafe and saloon. He would bring home things that weren’t his and when she asked about them he told her he had found them out behind the cafe or the saloon.

He would have left home long ago but his mother was sickly and needed him. She spent her days in bed or on the small porch in a rocking chair that sat back in the shade resting. It was close to nine O’clock in the evening when Jack got home from the cafe to find his mother still sitting on the porch. He did his best to bring her around but she was dead. She was gone and there was nothing more he could do for her, so he dug a grave in the backyard away from his father’s and buried her there. Her death hit him hard and he Spent the next two weeks pining away at the lost. He worked every afternoon and evening and saved his money as he had done for the past several years. Jack needed to get away from El Paso and the bad memories. He needed something to live for, so a month after his mother was buried, Jack said good-bye to El Paso and rode east in search of something that might bring the light back to his eyes.

His first opportunity came by way of a Mexican man he met on the trail who had invited the boy to share a plate of beans and tortillas. He was an older man with long brown hair and a scruffy beard. His teeth were yellowed and his clothes smelled like he’d slept with the pigs. His face was haggard from far too many days in the saddle and on the trail in the sun. His name was Jose Gonzales, Gonzales, Lopez and he was in his late forties. A vaquero his entire life he had been working on a large ranch just south of the border when he was fired for being too old. He rode north to find work once again in America. He had been on the trail for most the day and as the sun was beginning to set he made camp and settled down for the night. He had just started his campfire when a stranger rode up and asked if he might join him. Jose gladly welcomed the young stranger to his camp fire and offered to share his food. Jack welcomed the chance to rest, but when he saw the man’s pocket watch he knew he would have to kill the man to get it. It wasn’t until after the meal that Jose fell asleep and late into the morning that Jack rolled over, slightly crawled over to where Jose slept and put a bullet through Jose's head killing him instantly. Jack found the watch, looked at it and then put it in his pocket.

The following morning Jack left Jose’s lifeless body for the coyotes and headed off north to a small settlement of Chaparral, where he could get a meal and rest before starting his journey through the white sands desert on his way to Lincoln county, New Mexico. He thought about what he had done to the Mexican as he rode but felt no remorse. He knew that killing the man was wrong but he didn’t care. He wasn’t opposed to killing where it was called for. He knew he had to do whatever he had to do to get what he wanted and he wanted that watch, so justified it by knowing there was no other way to get the watch.

The days passed slowly as he made his way north through the white sands desert. It was a lonely and slow going ride but his journey would take him through Ruidoso and then on to Lincoln, in Lincoln County, New Mexico where he would find an old friend from his childhood. Bartholomew Harding, or Bart as he was to be called by friends, had moved from El Paso, when Jack and Bart were just six years old. Lincoln was the last place that Jack knew his old friend lived and he was off to link up with him and share adventures on the road.

Jack’s journey would take him through the time settlement of Orogrande. There was one general store, a post office and a small saloon. Jack’s first stop was the general store to hopefully find himself a brand new Winchester 94 is a lever-action repeating rifle. He had heard of the new rifle back home in El Paso and knew it was the rifle he would need. As luck would have it, a Winchester salesman in his swing through New Mexico and just up from Fort Bliss, Texas had stopped to see if he could sell a few in the general store. The owner politely declined to buy any, stating that there was little opportunity to sell any to the simple friendly folks of Orogrande and that even if anyone was interested, the price was far beyond what anyone in town could afford. The salesman left the store and walked over to the saloon.

When Jack found out about the salesman he headed to the saloon to find the salesman. As Jack walked in the saloon he saw what could only be described as a dandy sitting in the middle of the bar drinking a shot of whiskey. Knowing he could never afford the rifle, Jack watched as the man downed shot after shot and as the sun began to set and the salesman got drunker, Jack just watched and waited for his opportunity. Soon the salesman got up and started to make his way out of the saloon and down the street to the small six room hotel in town. Jack followed and watched closely as the man slowly made his way to the last room down the hall.

Jack sat in the alley beside the hotel and fell asleep into the early morning hours of the morning. As Jack opened his eyes and looked around he pulled out his shining pocket watch to see it was three in the morning. Looking around he found his way to the window of the salesman’s room and slowly pulled it open. He pulled apart the curtains and looked in. Sleeping soundly on what looked to be a very soft feather bed, was the salesman, with his rather large truck of goods lying at the door of his bed and if his luck held out Jack would not have to kill him to get the rifle he longed for.

Jack stepped into the room and carefully and silently made his way to the small table near the bed. As Jack looked down on the salesman, he realized that when he woke up he would find his money and his gun gone and scream for help. So Jack softly picked up a pillow and held it firmly down on the salesman's face with one hand and with his gun in the other he smashed the salesman's windpipe. He was dead within a few minutes and while he wanted to scream and tried to escape, there was no way he was going to survive. As the salesman’s body went limp, Jack hit him across the face with his pistol to make sure he was finished. He then opened the trunk, found a small satchel and a large wallet filled with money and several Winchester Rifles along with several boxes of bullets.

Jack pulled the large wallet out of the satchel and counted the money, finding over two hundred dollars inside. He stuffed the wallet back in the satchel and then picked up two Winchesters and several boxes of ammo. Finding that all of this was going to be hard to conceal, Jack looked around the room and found the salesman’s saddle bags and stuffed them with six boxes of ammo on each side and put the satchel over his shoulder and a Winchester in each hand. As he was about to leave he saw out of the corner of his eye a rifle scabbard sitting against the truck and picked it up and shoved the two rifles in and made his way out the window and to his horse.

Once he had attached the rifle scabbard to his saddle and placed the saddlebags on his horse, Jack rode silently out of town, leaving no one the wiser to his deed. By the time the sun was coming up and over the foothills Jack was well on his way to the town of Alamogordo. He rested in the shade of a few trees around noon and after a short while got back on his horse and continued his ride north. Three days later he rode into Alamogordo and found the town to be nicely situated, with a couple of small hotels, saloons and a Main Street that held all of the store fronts one might find in a growing town. There was a small cafe on the outskirts of town where Jack stopped to have an evening meal and asked where the closest hotel was.

Jack had stopped to take a day off from his ride north and hopefully find some female companionship for the night. After getting a room at the hotel he made his way to the local whore house and hooked up with a pretty little blond girl that couldn’t have been much more than twenty years old. Taylor Page Schwaer stood five for four with blond hair and blue eyes that shone in the sunlight. Her name was the combination of two old traditional family names. Taylor from her daddy’s side and Page was from her mama’s side of the family. There was no family to take her in after her parents died at the hands of Apache Indians on the warpath. She was just ten years old when her parents were killed and so the towns folk and the cowboys who rescued her from the Apaches, took up a collection to send her back East to a Catholic convent school for orphaned girls. She was brought up to be a teacher by the nuns and as soon as she could she ventured out west to teach the A, B, C’s to kids of all ages. Unfortunately life took another turn for the worst when her job as teacher for the kids in the village of Redoso was dropped due to hostile action by the Apache and the townspeople all left for a large town closer to an Army fort. With nowhere to go and no one to help, Taylor met the madam of a whore house in Alamogordo and was told that she could either go to work as a whore or die on the trail. Taylor chose to become a whore hoping that someday soon she would meet a man that would take her away from her life of sin.

Jack was so completely enthralled by the girl and he decided to stay over a few more days to enjoy her company. He and Taylor spent every minute of the next four days together until one morning, Jack suggested that she should catch the next stage to San Francisco and start over again. Taylor explained that whatever money she made went to the madam, who paid for anything that Taylor might want. Food, clothing, a place to stay. But she didn’t pay her girls anything for their services. Jack was smittened by the girl, but knew he could never have a wife, that his life was going to be a hard one, not fit for a woman of Taylor’s manner. So he gave her two hundred dollars and put her on the next stagecoach west.

The following day Jack watched as Taylor’s stage pulled out of town and was a bit saddened by her departure, but down deep inside he knew it was for the best. Jack was sure that the life of an outlaw would have room for a woman, so he said good bye and made his way over to the local Mexican saloon where they served strong Tequila and the girls, well most of them were pretty and happy to go with you for a few pesos.

Approaching Alamogordo from the East was an Indian by the name of Iron Chest, so named because of the old conquistador’s breastplate he wore. It, along with a saber that hung at his side had been passed down to him from his fathers father and he wore them both proudly. Slung over his shoulder was his bow and quiver of arrows along with a large hunting knife by his side. Iron chest stood six foot three, with long brown hair. He was 26 years old and the look of pure hatred darkened his eyes. The angry eyes were enough to make most any man back off. His skin as well as his mouth was parched from the long three week ride in the sun as he followed the tracks of the four men far and wide, over the foothills and into the valleys that surrounded his village in search of the men that had killed his family three weeks ago. The men had ridden past the village one evening as his wife and children were on the path that led back home. They took the children’s lives first and then raped and killed his wife. The family was on their way home from a visit with family members on the outskirts of the small village of Mescalero. They lay slaughtered along the pathway and were found the next morning by elders of the tribe as they made their way on a visit to other families. Iron Chest had been hunting when the four men rode into town and found his family and slaughtered them.

On the evening of the third week, Iron Chest found the four men and their camp set up in a thicket near a small river. The men had been drinking and once again laughing about their conquest of the woman a few weeks ago. Iron Chest kneeled in the bush and waited for his chance and as the night grew darker, their fire grew dimmer and the drunken men tired of their laughter and fell asleep, Iron Chest snuck into their camp and slit the throats of the first three men he came across. The fourth man, hearing a slight commotion raised his head in time to see his buddies' life blood pouring from his neck. The cowboy jumped to his feet and grabbed for his gun, but Iron Chest was too quick and ran his saber through his chest, dropping him to his knees. Iron Chest stood over him and chanted an old Indian chant proclaiming victory over his enemies and then with one strong slice, he lopped off the head of the last man and watched as the cowboy fell headless to the ground.

He left the men to rot in the wilderness where the bears and other wild animals would feast on what was left of them and he rode west towards the town of Alamogordo where he would look for a Mexican owned saloon where they would serve Indians liquor. None of the white man owned saloon would but the Mexicans didn’t care who drank their whiskey. They were far more concerned about making a few Pesos than whether or not they served Indians.

As he came into town the few towns folk who were going about their business watched him as he slowly rode by, not really concerned by the presence of an indian. There were many friendly Mescalero Apache in the area and as long as no one worried themselves with the Indians, the Indians didn’t concern themselves with the people.

Iron Chest stopped in front of a Mexican owned saloon called the Bug House Cantina, got off his horse and walked in. He slowly walked to the bar and ordered a bottle of Tequila and flipped the barkeep a silver dollar and found himself a table near the back of the bar, poured himself a drink and finally cried a tear for his lost family.

Chapter Two

Jack and Iron Chest

In the Bug House Cantina, near the west side of town, at a table near the only window at the back of the saloon, Jack sat drinking his tequila and thinking about Taylor, hoping she would have a safe journey out to the coast. At a table off to his left, Iron Chest sits with his bottle and downs his tequila straight from the bottle. The two men are completely unaware of the other, each in his own little world until a lone cowboy stumbles in and sees Iron Chest and shouts at him to get out. Iron Chest looks up from his drink and paying no attention to the cowboy looks back down again.

“What’s a matter with you injun, don’t you hear good. I said get the hell out.” He shouted again.

The owner of the bar stepped forward and told the cowboy that the Indian was welcome in his bar. The cowboy turned to him and pulled his six shooter, leveled it at the owner and told him to shut the hell up or die. He then turned to Iron Chest and aimed at him. He cocked his pistol and was about to pull the trigger, when Jack jumped up, drew his pistol, fired and shot the stranger smack dab between the eyes. Iron Chest jumped from his table, looked over at Jack, then at the dead cowboy and ran out the back door knowing he would be strung up for getting the cowboy killed. Jack stood there looking at the cowboy, knowing that he had shot to save the Indian, not knowing that it didn’t matter to the sheriff, that he would lock him up and hang him for murder, so he too ran out the back door and right into four friends of the cowboy who grabbed him.

“What’s the rush youngster?” One of the men said as he grabbed Jack by the arm.

Jack did his best to free himself, but the four men out weighed and pushed him back inside. When they saw their friend laying on the floor of the cantina the man who grabbed Jack first man asked the bartender what happened to their friend and he pointed to Jack saying he shot the man.

By the time the sheriff got to the bar, Iron Chest was long gone and the dead man’s friends had gotten a rope and were ready to string Jack up. The bartender, in order to keep the peace, told the sheriff that Jack had shot the man to save an Indians life.

“Don’t much care for injuns myself but the fact is he done kilt a man and he’s gotta pay for that.” The sheriff told the bartender and the man’s friends.

“why don’t ya let us save you the time no trouble. We’ll just string him proper like outside of town.” The man’s friend told the sheriff.

“Sorry boys, can’t be lettin’ ya hang no one. Now give him to me and I’m gonna lock him up til the judge gets here.” The Sheriff told them as he reached for Jack.

The four men stepped back, refusing to hand over Jack. The sheriff quickly pulled his six shooter and once again told them to hand him over. The men, seeing that they had no option at the time, released Jack and back off. The sheriff nodded his head and slowly backed away from the men and out the door.

On the way to the jail the sheriff kept an eye out for the men knowing they were going to give up so easily. Once inside the jail and behind bars, Jack did his best to explain why he had shot the man.

“Don't make no nevermind kid, ya done kilt a man and ya got ta pay for the crime.” The Sheriff told him and slammed the jail door tight. “His buddies out there mean to hang you and to be honest if they bust in here, I’m gonna let em’ I ain’t stickin’ my neck out for no kid.”

Later in the the dead cowboys' four friends showed and demanded the sheriff hand over the kid so they could hang him but the sheriff was bound and determined to see that the law was carried out in a court as long as they didn’t try to bust in. The cowboys hung around outside the sheriff’s office shouting and screaming for their own brand of justice. Jack was beginning to get a little worried as the shouts grew louder and nastier.

It didn’t take long for the men to get all liquored up and get brave enough to storm the sheriff’s office, bustin down the door to get Jack for a lynchin’.

The sheriff was an older man in his mid fifties and while he upheld the law he was not going to get killed over some kid that killed one of their friends, so he stood back and let them take Jack out. Once outside, they tied his hands behind his back, threw him up on his horse and rode him out of town to a big old oak tree up in Boot Hill. The six men continued to shout and swear as they slowly rode up to Boot Hill. The first man there threw a rope up over the low hanging branch and the others brought Jack under the limb and put the noose around his neck.

However, before they could tighten the noose, the first man was shot dead and then the second and third. The last one looked around for the shooter but couldn’t see anyone and before another shot rang out he hightailed it out of town. A seconds later, Iron Chest rode up, cut the robes, Jack pulled the noose from his head and the two men rode off in a cloud of dust.

What Jack didn’t know was that earlier Iron Chest had taken one of Jack’s Winchesters from his horse and waited for the men to pull him out of the jail. As they rode up to boot hill, he approached the sheriff with his sword pointing at his heart and demanded Jack’s pistol and holster. Once he had those he rode up to Boot Hill on the back streets of the town. He stood about fifty feet away and started firing and killing the cowboys.

The two men made a clean getaway, getting out of town without so much as a shot being fired by anyone. The towns folks didn’t care what happened to the boy, live or die, it wasn’t their problem. The two were well on their way south towards Texas before the sheriff could raise a posse to chase them down. In fact his efforts to gather men for a posse failed miserably when no one in town wanted to ride a dusty trail after two killers and risk the chance of getting killed too. Still, Jack and Iron Chest rode until dark and then hidden in the rough terrain not far from the white sands desert. Fearing that the posse would see a fire they set up their bedrolls and waited. According to Jack’s stolen watch an hour had passed when Iron Chest decided to scout the trail to see if they had been followed. He came back fifteen minutes later and told Jack in his broken English that they had not been followed. Iron Chest had not seen anyone on the trail either way but he had killed a Jack Rabbet on his way back. Iron Chest and Jack didn’t have much time to talk while riding from the nonexistent posse, but once they stopped and realized there was no one, not even the last of the dead cowboys friend, following them they relaxed a bit and cooked the dead rabbit. Jack asked Iron Chest why he had saved him from the cowboys, again, in broken English Iron Chest explained that because Jack had saved him he was honor bound to repay the favor.

“You shot purdy dang good injun, hey, if we’re gonna be pards, I’m gonna need to know your name.” Jack asked.

“Me called Iron Chest.” He told Jack and then explained why.

“Well Iron Chest, hows about I make a gift of the rifle to you?” Jack told him as they cooked the rabbit.

Iron Chest smiled, held up and shook the rifle in a gesture of thanks and nodded his head. Jack smiled back and the two men sat quietly and ate the rabbit. After the last of the rabbit eaten, Iron Chest gestured that he was going to sleep and Jack nodded and laid down too, happy that his new Indian had saved his hide.

Sleep came quickly for the two men and when the sun came up in the morning Iron Chest was awake and getting ready to ride. Jack awoke to the sounds of Iron Chest moving around and jumped up with a start and pulled his pistol that set close to his side. At first he thought it might be someone other than Iron Chest but when he saw his new friend saddling up his horse he relaxed, holstered his gun and asked his new friend where he was going.

In his broken English he explained that he had no reason to stay in New Mexico.

“Family dead. I kill men. Must run.” He told Jack.

“Well, friend, why not run together? I’ll bet the law is after us both by now.” Jack suggested as he picked up his saddle and moved to his horse.

Iron Chest thought for a moment and nodded his head in agreement.

“I ride with white man. We go Texas. Become famous outlaws.” Iron Chest told him as he strapped his saddle down.

“Now there’s a good idea. Dos Bandidos. Robbing, trains, banks and rich folks everywhere.” He said with a chuckle.

The two men rode off to Texas to begin their reign of terror as the baddest bandidos in Texas. Believing the best place to start would be his hometown of El Paso. Jack and Iron Chest rode into the sleepy little village and walked into The Bank and told the teller behind the iron gated booth to calmly hand over the money.

“Fill the bags with all his money.” He told the teller quietly.

Iron Chest stood at the door of the bank as a lookout while Jack made his way from one teller to the next. There were three in all and once he had the money, he thanked them and told them to stay quiet for five minutes or he would be back and blow a hole in each of their heads. As Jack was about to turn to walk out the bank manager looked up from his desk in the back, stood up and approached Jack to ask if he could help.

“In fact you can. If you would make sure these here people keep their mouths shut until we are long gone that would be great.” Jack told him.

“What?” The manager asked unclear as to what had just happened.

“We just robbed the back and I’m gonna need you all to keep everyone silent until we’re gone.” He told him calmly.

“Why, you’re John Williams' son… You’re Jack… ah, Jack Ryder, aren’t you?” The manager spoke out.

“That’s right. I’m Texas Jack Ryder and you’re dead if you don’t shut the hell up.” He once again calmly told him.

The new name was a spur of the moment thought that he came up with. Texas Jack smiled as he thought of how good the new name sounded.

“We’re being robbed by the son of John Williams. I tell you what son, your father was a total and complete loser, but it’s no reason to turn to a life of crime.” The manager told him.

“No sir you’re right, it’s no reason, but the money in this here bag is a dang good reason. Now shut the hell up or I’ll shoot just for the hell of it. Do ya all understand?” He said, raising his pistol up to the manager's head.

The manager nodded his head in agreement and stepped back. As he did Jack and Iron Chest turned and walked out door, got on their horses and calmly rode out of town almost before anyone knew what had happened.

They had walked out with fifteen hundred dollars from the teller's drawers and because the tellers and a manager did as they were told and kept quiet, they were long gone before anyone in town knew what had happened. Jack and Iron Chest continued to ride south to Juarez, Mexico to hold up, spend some money and buy some ooze and women. Juarez was a sleepy little Mexican village on the border where they could hide out for a while.

Sitting at a cantina drinking a few cervezas while eating tortillas and beans the two men talked of what they wanted to do once the money they stole ran out. Jack was up for hitting another bank, Iron Chest told his new friend that he wouldn’t mind just laying low for a while.

“We need to stay hidden from law. No good come from law.” Iron Chest told him.

Jack agreed with him but he wanted to move. He didn’t want to stay in one place too long.

“No one look for us here. No law come for us here. Good place. We stay.” Iron Chest told his friend.

Jack had to admit that Iron Chest was right. No US lawmen would come after them in Mexico. It was the safest place to be.

“For now!” Jack told Iron Chest and took a drink of his beer.

They ordered some more beers and as the sun began to set, Jack looked around and then stood up.

“I’m gonna find me a woman.” He told Iron Chest as he started to walk away. Iron Chest stood up with him and followed Jack out the door and down to the edge of town where the local whore house set filled with women.

As they staggered down the street to the whore house they watched as they passed by house after house where God fearing common Mexicans were by this time either in bed or getting ready for bed. Children had been asleep for a few hours and the parents needed to head off to bed and get ready for the next days work. As Jack passed each house he thought to himself about the poor suckers who had to get up early to work the fields, maybe some of them may have some kind of other job to go to while he and Iron Chest were off to get laid and he chuckled to himself at the thought.

Once at the whore house they walked in and told the woman up front they wanted a woman for the night.

“I want a woman.” Jack shouted out to the madam.

“Are ya sure? Cause you don’t look old enough to know what to do with a real woman.” The Madam told him as she looked him over.

“Just get me a woman, I’ll figure it out as I go along and don’t get me no fat broads like the ones I saw on your porch when I come into town. I want a young, sweet, pretty thing.” He told her again.

“Me want fat woman. Good to have meat in the bones.” Iron Chest to the lady and walked over to what could have been the biggest, ugliest woman in the house, took her by the arm and walked off with her.

Jack stood there and watched as the two went down the hallway and disappeared into a small room with not much more than a bed, wash basin and dresser. Jack gave the madam two fifty dollar bills and again asked for a young good looking woman. Almost before he could get the last word out of his mouth, a beautiful young Mexican girl walked out of the back and waved at Jack.

Margarita was nineteen years old with long black hair and brown eyes. She had been left on the doorstep of the whore house when she was just three months old by her mother, who was dying of Scarlet Fever and could no longer care for her child. The ladies took her in and brought her up right. They made sure she had her schooling and when it was time, she was given an opportunity to choose between becoming a whore or a school teacher. Knowing the life of a whore would have no future at all, Margarita opted to become the town's school teacher. For three years she taught school to the younger kids, until one night after classes, she was gang raped by four bandidos who had watched her all afternoon from across the street.

Margarita was left lying on the floor in the back room of the school house, bloodied and bruised by the beating and rape. A couple of days later the bandits were caught and the town took its vengeance against the foul evil men that raped their beloved school teacher. They all were hanged for their crime but she could no longer face the children or the townspeople and went back to the whore house and took over a vacated room near the rear of the house. A month later, after complaining to the village doctor, he told her she was pregnant and almost two months later Margarita miscarried and after recuperating she made up her mind that she would start working at the house. In her mind she was dirtied by the rape and in the eyes of the towns people and felt she would never be clean again. It took her some time but soon she beginning to understand the ritual of sex for pay and as pretty as she was, it didn’t take long for her to become the most requested girl in the house.

Jack and Margarita spent the entire night together and talked almost as much as the had sex. By morning light Jack was ready to get some sleep and made his way over to the local hotel and got a room. Iron Chest left his fat woman begging for more on her feather bed and went and found a comfortable area at the livery stable above the stalls and they both slept until close to three in the afternoon. He could have gotten a room at the hotel, but Iron Chest found a bed too uncomfortable to sleep in and would rather spend the night on the hay.

Chapter Three

The ride to riches

Jack and Iron Chest stayed in Juarez another month drinkin’ and whorin’ every night but as soon the money began to run out and the two men felt the need to make their way back across the border and up to Galveston where they had heard the bank was filled with railroad money at the end of every month for the railroad companies payroll on the first.

As they rode Jack worked out a plan to hit the bank just before closing on the last Friday of the month. It would be simple enough, just walk in and once again calmly ask the tellers to see the manager. That was the plan. Iron Chest agreed and once in Galveston the two men got a room at a hotel across the street from the bank and watched the bank for three days before the planned hit. It was a small and quiet bank and they noticed that there was even less activity when it got close to closing time.

On Friday morning just after the Galveston, Harrisburg, & San Antonio Railroad train pulled into town, four railroad guards got off with several bags full of railroad payroll money and rode into town and the bank on a buggy supplied by the bank. Jack watched from his hotel room as a half hour later three of the guards walked out and rode back to the train.

Jack went and found Iron Chest in the saloon and told him it was time. The two men rode up to the bank, Iron Chest stood at the front of the bank while Jack walked up to the teller's window and calmly asked the teller to see the manager. The teller nodded, turned and invited Jack to follow him to the manager’s desk. Once there Jack sat down and informed the manager that he was there to rob the bank and he wanted the railroad's money.

“I’m sorry, you what?” The manager asked.

“The railroad’s money. I want it… Now!!” He told him again and pulled his pistol.

The manager seeing the gun fainted dead away with a girlish scream that was heard by everyone in the bank. Jack rolled his eyes and stood up. One of the tellers and the guard came over to see what was wrong, Iron Chest was right behind the guard with his gun out.

“Son of a bitch. You there, Mr. Guard, this is a hold up and I want the railroad's money.” He told him as he shoved his gin in his belly.

“But the money is in the vault and only the manager had the combination.” A teller told Jack.

“Well then you’d better bring him around before I start shootin’” Jack told him.

The teller kneeled down next to the manager and slapped his cheek twice in hopes of bringing him around. But it was to no avail. The manager was out cold. As Jack stood there watching he was getting madder and madder by the minute.

“Pard, you watch them, while I grab the money from the tellers and give this fool a chance to come around.” Jack told Iron Chest.

Iron Chest leveled his gun at the four tellers and the guard and told them not to move. In the meantime Jack grabbed all the loose cash in the tellers drawers and then came back to the group to see if the manager had come around. Jack knelt down and slapped the man again, but still he was out cold.

“Son of a bitch!!!” Jack shouted very discouraged by the events and let his head drop.

As he did, an older man walked in the bank to witness the robbery.

“What the hell’s goin’ on here?” He shouted.

Jack jumped to his feet and took aim at the old man, but stopped short of shooting him seeing that he was unarmed. The lone guard took this opportunity to pull his six shooters and try to shoot Iron Chest. Jack saw the guard move out of the corner of his eye and fired a bullet into his chest, dropping him dead on the floor.

Iron Chest fired a shot into the roof and turned to get out before anyone came running. Jack, money in hand, fled the bank and jumped on his horse, following Iron Chest out of town. By the time the sheriff got to the bank the two men were down the road. By the time he got a posse together the two men were far away and Iron Chest was covering their tracks so that even if the posse followed them out of town, they would never be able to find them. The men rode until dark and then rode for another hour to make sure they were safely away. Then and only then did they give the horses a much needed rest as they found a small river to camp by.

As they set up their camp Jack bitched and moaned about the botched robbery.

“All that money and all we got was a few thousand from the tellers. Damn!!” He wanted to shout.

“Better than getting shot.” Iron Chest told him with a smile.

The two men bedded down for the night and woke early the next morning ready to ride again. After a cup of coffee and a stick of jerky, they were mounted up and on their way not really knowing where they were headed, just riding north towards the city of Houston where they would hide out for the next few weeks and do their best to keep a low profile and not arouse anyone interest in them. When they finally made it to Houston, they found a small hotel on the edge of town and Jack checked in. Iron Chest made his way over to the livery stable and arranged to sleep in the back in a large stall. He offered the blacksmith a few dollars to let him stay but the blacksmith refused his money, telling him that he was free to stay in the back at night, if he were out by nine in the morning.

The two men chose to stay away from each other while in town so as not to arouse suspicion. He was sure that the news of the bank robbery would have made its way to Houston and the two men, an indian and white man together would fit the description whereas two men alone would not.

Jack chose to spend most of his time at the hotel sitting in the lobby and watching the people go by. He ate his meals in the dining room and when it got dark he would go up to his room and go to bed. In the afternoon he would make his way to the closest saloon and play cards in a low stakes poker game. He made sure that he stayed sober and only had one or two shots of whiskey while playing.

Iron Chest spent his days scouting around town and staying out of trouble. An Indian in a silver breastplate made quite the sight in town and would attract unwanted attention and so he would leave it and his saber with his things at the stable. He found a whore house down a ways from the stable and spent much of his day there. The madam cared little if he were an Indian as long as he had money, however there were a few of the ladies who did not want to associate with a red man.

Jack had decided that he would stay away from the whore houses and spent his time playing cards. If not in a poker game he played solitaire at a table near the back of the saloon. Time passed slowly and with no hint of a posse on their trail Jack and Iron Chest saddled up and rode west to Austin with a plan to rob another bank.

It took them four days to get to Austin and once again they found the bank and took a couple of days watching to figure out the plan of attack. They found Austin to be a sleepy little town of just under 800 inhabitants. There were several ranches that were around the city but most of the ranchers rarely came into town except on weekends or to restock supplies. Once again keeping to themselves with Jack staying in a quiet little hotel on the edge of town and Iron Chest keeping to a small encampment outside of town, they took turns watching the bank and the comings and goings of the town folks. There was never a lot of traffic into the bank and after a week of keeping an eye on things Jack decided that a midweek robbery would be best. There were two guards in the bank and things were going to have to unfold differently this time.

He and Iron Chest sat by their campfire and made their plans for the next day. Again, Jack would walk inside and Iron Chest would stand at the door watching his back. Iron Chest walked to the guard near the door and told him to stay calm, that it was a hold up. Jack walked up to the first guard and pushed his gun into the guard's side and told him to keep quiet or die as he pulled the guard's gun from its holster. With the guard’s gun in hand Jack made his way to the first teller and had the guard tell him it was stick up and to do as he was told or die. The teller, a little more surprised, did his best to remain calm. He pulled the money from his drawer and then Jack told him to walk to the other tellers and tell them to hand over their cash.

By the time Jack and the guard got to the last teller Jack’s bag was overflowing with cash and as he told the guard to sit down he turned to walk out as Iron Chest watched the lobby. When Jack got out the door, Iron Chest turned to follow. What the two men didn’t know was that both guards had a Colt hidden under his coat and as soon as the two men were out the door, the guards pulled their colts and raced after them. The guards threw out the doors and took aim and fired. The first guard's aim was true and hit iron Chest in the back of his neck and he fell to the ground. The second guard missed Jack altogether and kept firing and missing. Jack was to the edge of town before he noticed that Iron Chest was not with him. Jack turned and rode back into the bank where he saw the two guards standing over the body of his friend firing into his body to make sure he was dead. Appalled at their acting and being unnoticed by either guard, Jack quickly rode by and shot both men in the chest, dropping them dead before they had a chance to respond. Jack then kicked his mount and rode south out of town past the sheriff’s office just as he stepped out. The Sheriff took a couple of shots at Jack but missed.

Immediately the sheriff called to his deputy to gather up a few men and follow him as he took out after Jack. The Sheriff jumped on his horse and followed the robber out of town following the trail of dust kicked up by Jack’s horse.

Jack had little time to think of his fallen friend. He took his revenge and rode out of town. He was sure that the sheriff that had taken a couple shots at him would be hot in his trail and there was no time to do anything else but ride hard. He followed the road out of town and then cut into the bush and continued south hoping the sheriff wouldn’t follow. As he rode he looked over his shoulder to see if he could see anyone following. There was no indication that anyone was on his trail so Jack slowed and let his horse relax a bit, all the while keeping an eye on the brush behind him. He stopped next to a river's edge and filled his canteen with water while his horse had his fill.

Suddenly from behind he could hear the sound of a horse running at full gallop and coming fast on his position. Jack jumped on his horse and moved across the river and into the rocks that surrounded the other side. There he got off and took up a position and pulled his six shooter. As the man grew closer, Jack took aim and fired. The rider fell from his horse and bounced a couple of times before coming to a halt in the dirt. Jack stood up and looked to see if the man was moving. He wasn’t! Jack moved out from around his hiding place and slowly walked toward the body.

As he got closer he could see the shiny tin star on the man’s shirt and realized he had killed the sheriff.

“Damn. That’s all I need is a dead lawman. Don't you know it’s ain’t a good idea to follow an outlaw by yourself?” Jack asked as he looked down.

As Jack turned to walk away he heard the man move and instantly pulled his pistol, turned and fired at the man. The Sheriff had been playing dead and pulled his gun when Jack walked away.

“Sheriff. Are you kidding me? That was even more stupid.” He said as he looked at the dead sheriff.

Jack was mad that the sheriff had played dead with him. He wasn’t happy about having to kill him either but what choice did he have? Jack walked across the river, climbed up on his horse and took off at a slow gallop.

The sheriff was the third man he’d killed that day and his count was growing with each passing hour. His reputation was growing by leaps and bounds but hardly anyone knew who the robber and his indian friend were. He rode on in obscurity.

Chapter Four

From Obscurity to infamy

The posse that had followed the sheriff out of town found his body and took him back to be buried and figured the outlaw had too much of a lead to catch up. They interviewed the bank tellers and got a description. He was wearing a wide brim white hat, leather chaps and a brown slicker with a brown scarf and light tan vest. He wore his gun on the right side and had long brown hair and a bushy mustache.

The deputy sent this description by Telegraph to every town south of Austin and to the Texas Rangers Headquarters on the Brazos River at the Old San Antonio Road crossing.

The Texas Rangers were unofficially created by Stephen F. Austin in a call-to-arms written in 1823 and were first headed by Captain Morris. After a decade, on August 10, 1835, Daniel Parker introduced a resolution to the Permanent Council creating a body of rangers to protect the Mexican border. In the early years The Rangers tracked down fugitives, and functioned as a paramilitary force at the service of both the Republic (1836–1845) and the state of Texas.

The Texas Ranger, also known as "Los Diablos Tejanos", "the Texan Devils", was a U.S. investigative law enforcement agency with statewide jurisdiction in Texas and based in the capital city of Austin. Over the years, the Texas Rangers investigated crimes ranging from murder to political corruption, acted in riot control and as detectives, protected the governor of Texas. The well deserved fame and reputation spread like wildfire throughout the western United States. The star of the Texas Ranger was highly coveted and regarded The Rangers were the best of the best and a much sought after position for an ambitious young lawman in Texas.

The telegram describing Jack was delivered to Ranger commander, John Salmon "Rip" Ford, who immediately assigned the case to the son of former Ranger Captain, John Coffee Hayes. John Caperton Hayes Jr. a recent recruit to The Rangers had just arrived from California to follow in his fathers footsteps.

Comanche Chief Buffalo Hump, a friend and great admirer of Hayes Sr., sent the Hays family a gift of a golden spoon engraved "Buffalo Hump Jr." on as a sign of his great admiration for the senior Ranger.

John Coffee Hays was born in Tennessee, and arrived in San Antonio in 1837, shortly after Texas won its independence from Mexico. By 1841, at the tender age of 23, he was a Ranger captain and a fearless fighter and skilled leader. Hays won his fame defending Texans from raids and attacks by both Comanche Indians and Mexican banditos. More than any other man, he would come to symbolize the Rangers of the Texas Republic era. During the Mexican War from 1846 to 1848, Hays’ Rangers scouted, defended U.S. supply and communication lines from attacks by Mexican guerrillas and fought alongside regular U.S. army troops, earning a national reputation for their bravery.

John Hayes Jr. was bound and determined to be a Ranger Captain and win the admiration of his fellow Rangers.

His first step was to go to the bank and talk to the employees in the bank during the hold up. After gathering as much information as he could John Jr. set out to find and bring in his man. However, things were not going to be easy for the rookie Ranger. Undaunted by the lack of cooperation by uninterested citizens, John Jr. continued his search feeling that if he just kept moving forward he would uncover the whereabouts of the killer and in the meantime Ranger headquarters put together a wanted poster on Jack and had it sent to every Sheriff’s office and post office throughout Texas.

All the while the unknowing Jack was well on his way back to southern Texas, avoiding San Antonio and finally making his way to Rock Springs, where he was a complete unknown and there was no local sheriff. In the small town of Rock Springs he could hide out and wait until things cooled down. To the west of Rock Springs there was a large thicket of trees with a small creek running through it. Jack set up a makeshift camp near the creek and under a tall tree that he could use for shade. There was plenty of wood to cut for fires at night and the weather was mild, so Jack was comfortable living off the land. With the cash from the robbery Jack would go into town from time to time for supplies and a beer or two, but never more. No need in arousing interest in his presence in town. He talked to very few and kept to himself when in town.

It was an early Thursday morning when Jack rode into town and the little general store to buy a few supplies. There was no real reason to ride into town except that Jack was restless and bored, so off he rode in hopes of refilling his supply of bacon, jerky, coffee and a candy cane or two. With his list in hand he strolled into the general store and even though he had been in several times before today would be different. Today he would for the first time meet the owner's daughter, recently returned from the East and boarding school.

Rebecca Livingston was a very pretty 19 years old young lady and a recent graduate of the Milton Academy. Milton is a coeducational, independent preparatory, boarding and day school in Milton, Massachusetts. To be selected to attend Milton, you must be the child of a prominent family of Massachusetts high society and very wealthy. Milton was very highly selective in it’s process of selecting students to attend the school, accepting only from the older families in town.

Rebecca’s family had come over on The Mayflower and had been a part of Massachusetts high society from the beginning. However, Rebecca's father had always been the adventurous type and almost from the day Johnathan was born it seemed as if he was looking for the next great adventure. Going west was going to be that adventure. Settling in Texas had always been a point of contention between Johnathen and his wife and the former Miss Henrietta Patricia Wadsworth made it very clear to Johnathen that she was not going anywhere in a covered wagon to live in the middle of nowhere. Henrietta was a plain looking woman. She dressed like an old maid and with her drab brown hair falling to her shoulders, it could have been said that if not for the planned marriage, she was bound to be a spinster sitting on her porch knitting to pass the time.

It took Johnathen a week to gather everything he needed to make his way west. The “everything” he needed included a woman that he had truly fallen madly in love with. Georgia Marie Winstead was a lovely young woman of twenty years and had beautiful blue eyes and blond hair. She stood five foot five and was a slender 123 pounds. They had met in his father’s store and while there never was any intended contact, there was an unspoken sexual tension between the two and they both knew it, so when he asked her to accompany him west, she agreed and plans were secretly made to have her join him as the wagon train pulled out of town. They would be married when they reached Texas. Johnathen and Henrietta said goodbye and that was it. What Henrietta did not know was that Rebecca, their one and only child, was waiting with Georgia on the edge of town and left with her father for Texas. The fact that Henrietta never wanted children was well known and she literally despised the man and child for the burden they saddled her with.

Leaving his wife behind was an easy decision. They had married because their families had arranged it. He never was in love with her and the only reason to marry her was because it was expected of him. When the pair was married, Johnathen was given his inheritance. A sum of over seven thousand dollars that was to provide for the family he was expected to have. Upon his departure he gave his wife half of what remained and he was gone. Johnathen’s father was very much in favor of his son leaving and had made an arrangement to help him open a general store and supply him with whatever he may need.

The seven year marriage had been contentious and while Johnathen wasn’t happy about leaving his family, he knew he had to go for the sake of his sanity. He had heard that in the newly formed state of Texas a man could make his fortune and live a good life and that’s just what Johnathen wanted and needed.

On the afternoon that Jack first laid eyes on Rebecca, his heart skipped a beat and was stopped momentarily by her beauty. As he approached the girl he knew that this was no average ordinary woman. It would take a careful and well planned approach to impress her. So as Jack walked up to the counter, he paused, turned around and walked out leaving Rebecca confused by his actions.

Jack walked down the street to the barber shop. He knew he needed to clean up before talking with such a beautiful woman, so while he waited for the bath water to heat up he got a shave and haircut. Once the water was heated and Stepped into the tub, he asked the attendant to go across the street and buy him some new clothes. Nothing Fancy, but his duds were soiled and falling apart to the point of no return. He told the attendant that he would be paid well for his help and that all he wanted was to replace what he had in his back.

With the attendant off to get his clothes Jack laid back soaked and washed away layer after layer of dirt from the many trails ridden. It was the first bath he had taken since his childhood and it felt good to just relax and let the filth wash away.

An hour later Jack was dressed in his new clothes and combed back his hair and splashed on a touch of so-called toilet water to smell good. Once dressed, he looked in the mirror, smiled and put on the only remaining piece of his old outfit. There was no way he would ever find a hat as comfortable and broken in as his cowboy hat. He had worn it for the last four years and would not allow it part from his head unless he was bathing or having sex.

Jack felt happy with the attendant’s choice of clothes and as he walked out he handed him a twenty dollar bill and thanked him.

“No sir, thank you sir.” He told him as Jack walked out and down the street towards the general store.

There was a spring in Jack’s step as he walked toward the store and the closer he got it seemed as if the spring in his strap was slipping away and by the time he reached to open the door the realization of what might happen hit him and he froze. Through the Dairy Double Dutch doors he could see the young woman going about her business. The top portion of the doors were open and as he watched he heard a voice from behind.

“Ya gonna open the dang door or just stand there and pick yer nose?” The man behind him asked.

“What? Ah… ah… no… ah,” Jack’s words fumbled out of his mouth.

“Come on buddy, either in or out. Make up yer mind. Go in or get out of the way.” The man said as he stepped around Jack and opened the door.

“Okay, I’m goin’ in.” Jack said as he moved forward into the store.

A few steps in Jack stopped again and looked around for the girl. Suddenly there was a tap on his shoulder and Jack jumped around to face his attacker. There, standing next to him was the girl with a big smile on her face.

“Hello, can I help you find something?” She asked in a soft voice.

Jack stood there looking at her and then told her that, no he was fine.

“Okay, if you say so, but you look lost.” She told him with a sweet smile.

“To be honest with you, I am sort of lost. Your eyes have thrown me for a loop and I wish I could find the words to tell you so.” He said as he tried to smile back.

“My name is Rebecca. My father is the owner and you’re kinda cute for a lost boy.” She said with a smile and turned to walk away.

Jack just stood there as she walked away wondering what he should do. Follow her or stay where he was. He turned to walk out and was about to the door when he heard her voice calling to him.

“You there, lost boy. You never told me your name.” She called out to him.

Jack turned to her and told her his name was Jack and walked out the door. As he walked down the street he was at a loss for any reason as to why he was so lost. He had been with girls before. Both sexually and friendly, the only other one that confused his brain was Taylor Page and she was long gone. He stopped and looked back to find the girl standing in the doorway watching as he walked away. He smiled, she smiled and Jack turned back and started walking to her.

When he reached her she smiled again and reached for his hand. Jack gently took her hand and began to shake it lightly.

“My name is Jack and I would very much like to see you again.” He said without a hint of stress.

“I’m here every day from noon to four.” She told him.

“I think you understood me clearly enough and I think it’s sorta mean to play games with a man that is clearly taken with you.” Jack said as pulled back his hand and let hers fall to her side.

“Jack, I do apologize for my behavior and hope that maybe you can drop by the house this evening around six to sit on the porch with my father and I.” she said as she looked him in the eyes.

Jack smiled again and told her that he would be happy to and asked where she lived.

With just a touch of feminine mystique, Rebecca gave him a sweet smile and told him where she lived. Jack smiled back and told her he would be over to the house at six PM.

“Don't let my father scare you, he’s more bark than he is bite. He is concerned that his only daughter might fall into the arms of the wrong kind of man. Are you the wrong kind of man, Jack?” She coyly asked.

“And if I were, would that be a stone in your pond of life?” He asked her.

“I don’t believe it would be for me, but father is rather strict about the lost boys who wish to see me other than at the store.” She informed him and started back in the store.

“I would never let a father ruin my evening with a beautiful young girl, simply because he may think I’m the wrong kind of man for his daughter.” Jack told her and then walked away.

Rebecca turned back around but Jack was gone. His remark had piqued her interest even more and she was intrigued by this lost boys and hoped that her father wouldn't be put off by his lack of education and poor upbringing.

It was close to six O’clock and Rebecca sat on her porch looking down the street wondering where Jack might be. Her father was sitting next to her also wondering where the young man was. He was not so sure he wanted his daughter going off frittering her evening with a young man he’s never seen or heard of before and before he allowed Jack to get too close there were several questions to be answered.

Johnathan pulled his pocket watch from his vest pocket just as Jack rounded the corner of the street that led to her house.

“The boy is punctual, I’ll give him that.”He said as he stood to meet the boy.

Jack walked on to the porch and reached out for Rebecca’s fathers hand. The two men took each other’s hand and held tightly as they shook. Neither of them giving an inch to the other and each doing his best to prove he was the best man.

“My, my, look at you to grapple over a silly handshake. Papa, don’t crush his hand before he has a chance to introduce himself.” Rebecca said to her father who instantly let go.

“Good evening sir, my name is Jack Ryder. Very pleased to make your acquaintance.” Jack politely said as he stood before the man.

“Have a seat young man. I understand that you would like to come courtin’ my daughter, is that correct?” Johnathen asked as he sat back down.

“That would be correct sir.” Jack said as sat in the chair next to Johnathen and looked at him, doing his best to size up the man.

“Well then son, tell me about yourself.” Rebecca’s father asked him.

Jack smiled knowing he couldn’t tell the man the truth and so he started to spin a yarn about his life. How his father had abandoned him and his mother when he was just a small boy. He told of how his mother was gunned down during a bank robbery while depositing her meager wages from the general store. Jack told them that he had been shipped off to his Aunt’s home in New York and hated every minute of his time there.

“So, when I turned eighteen I packed my bags and said thank you and goodbye and went west to work as a cowboy.” He told them as he ended his lie.

Rebecca and her father were completely stunned by the story, never once thinking anyone’s life could be so complex. Rebecca moved forward in her chair and took his hand and told him how sorry she was. Her father sat back and began to rock his chair back and forth. It was at that moment that Johnathen took pittie on the boy and stood up. As he walked past him, he put his hand on his shoulder and gave him a slight pat and walked in the house, leaving Jack and Rebecca sitting alone on the porch.

That was the beginning of their romance. The two spent as much time together as possible. Rebecca would leave work early, with her father’s okay and meet Jack in her back yard where they sat on the swing and cuddled close together under the watchful eye of her mother. It was a week later on a Saturday afternoon that Jack came by the house with an extra horse and they went for a ride off into the foothills just beyond the edge of the city to what would soon become their secret spot.

Once to their secret spot, they would get off the horses, unpack the picnic lunch and spread out the blanket. They would eat and talk and soon the two were engaged in an Intimate activity that Rebecca’s father would not be pleased about. She and Jack were kissing and touching and Jack was teaching her the ways of a woman and each time she was getting more and more aroused by Jack’s playfulness.

Then one day no more than six weeks later, Rebecca had relented to Jack’s sexual advances and had taken off her clothes to make love to the man she was sure she would someday marry. Jack on the other hand was just getting ready to get laid. As she lay naked in the blanket and Jack stood over her about ready to claim his prize, Jack heard a horse coming fast and told her to get dressed and he pulled up his pants, buckled his holster to his hips and quickly turned towards the sound of the horse.

Rebecca jumped up half dressed and hid behind a tree as the horse got closer she could see it was her father and he had a rifle in his hands. The horse galloped up and came to a stop in front of Jack and Johnathen jumped off and raised the rifle up. His attention was solely on Jack.

“Now hold on a minute here. There’s no need to get all crazy on us. We’re in love and going to get married.” Jack shouted out to her father.

Rebecca looked out from around the tree shocked at the words coming out of Jack’s mouth. This was the first she’d heard about marriage and to be very honest she wasn’t all that sure she wanted to get married to Jack. Oh sure he was fun to play around with, but as far as she could see he had no future.

“Wait just a minute here.” She shouted.

“No, you wait just a minute. I just came from the post office where I saw a wanted poster with a likeness of Jack, that says he’s wanted for murder.” Johnathen shouted at his daughter.

“What!! Jack, is that true? She asked half dressed.

“I’m afraid it is darlin’” He told her.

“Rebecca, what the hell do you think you were doing and why are your clothes half off?” Her father yelled at her.

“Young Jack the killer was about to make love to me until you came riding up and ruined the moment.” She shouted at him.

“I am sorry to ruin your moment but the man’s a killer. Now why don’t you just drop the gun and we won’t have any trouble here.” Johnathen said to Jack.

“No problem sir, let's just calm down and everybody lives another day.” Jock calmly told him.

Jonathan looked at Jack and then back at his half naked daughter and it suddenly dawned on him that Jack was about to have relations with his daughter.

“Son of a bitch.” He shouted as he suddenly realized what he had intruded on.

Jonathan brought the rifle up to his shoulder and was about to shoot Jack. He quickly pulled his gun and shot Johnathen in the shoulder, spinning him around and forcing him to drop the rifle.

“Jack, you shot my father.” Rebecca shouted as she ran half dressed to her wounded father.

“And he was about to shoot me.” Jack shouted back.

Rebecca kneeled by her father and then looked back at Jack.

“How could you?” She shouted.

“Again, he was about to shoot me.” Jack told her again. “He’ll be just fine, I only shot him in the shoulder. Tell ya what, I’ll go get the doctor.” Jack told her as he slipped his shirt over his head and walked to his horse.

As Jack mounted up he looked back at Rebecca, tipped his hat and rode off knowing he needed to get out of town. Figuring Johnathen would be fine he rode to his camp site, got his things and headed farther south.

Chapter Five

On The Run Again

Jack rode west out of Rock Springs, leaving Rebecca, her father, and wantever law she might have found to chase him down, far behind. He knew there was no law in Rock Springs and that it would take Rebecca some time to realize he wasn’t coming back and by the time she got someone from town to help her and her father, he would be long gone. For the first few days Jack rode hard, resting every hour or so to let his horse relax and cool down and he stopped at night being careful not to light a campfire so as not to give away his position if the law had actually followed him. There was no local law in Rock Springs and if The Texas Ranger hadn’t ridden into town, Jack’s escape would have gone unnoticed.

Ranger John heard of the shooting of the store owner and rode to Rock Springs arriving a week later to interview the man and his daughter about the incident. Johnathen had recuperated quite well and the pain from his wound was fading, however, talking with the Ranger was a reminder of how mad he was at the man he’d welcomed into his house. His memory was fresh with the image of his daughter laying half naked on the blanket and the young man standing beside her. Rebecca was doing her best to forget that day and the man that was about to take what she was so willing to surrender to him. His face, his smile and his magnificent body was etched upon her memory. However, since his departure she had grown angrier with each passing day, wondering how she could have ever given into his wants not to mention her own desires. Mad, not only at the fact that he shot her father but because she had thrown caution to the wind and given in so easily, hoping he would stay with her.

The two gave a detailed description of their encounter with the man who rode away and left them sitting under a large shade tree. Ranger John listened intently as they angrily told him of what had happened. John took detailed notes of the daughters time with Jack and when they were done, the Ranger thanked them, went across the street to have lunch and then to the Wells Fargo office to telegram the Rangers Headquarters of his progress. The Ranger left town and tried to pick up the week old trail of the outlaw, now known as Texas Jack. He knew Jack had a good lead and so Ranger John took his time getting back on the trail, feeling that he would catch up with him someday, somewhere along the way, knowing all outlaws make a mistake somewhere along the line. At every opportunity.

On his third day on the trail Jack slowed his pace, figuring if there was any law on his trail they were far behind him. Riding through the rugged terrain and doing his best not to leave any tracks, Jack headed west for a week and then turned south towards Del Rio and the Mexican border to find a small Mexican border town to hide out in. Three weeks later, Jack rode into Del Rio, went straight to the local barber for a shave and bath. Once he was done he paid the barber and left town, crossed the Rio Grande and rode into the Mexican border town of Ciudad Acuna about a day's ride into Mexico.

Once in the tiny village of Ciudad Acuna Jack checked into a combination hotel and cantina. La Taberna de los Sinvergüenzas which translates to “The Scoundrels’ Tavern.” Jack took a room at the very back of the hotel and dropped his saddlebags at the foot of the small bed and plopped down and immediately went to sleep.

Jack woke up several hours later in a darkened room and to the sounds of mariachi music coming from the cantina. Slowly Jack rolled out of the bed and opened his door. He looked down the hallway to the cantina, reached back in the room for his hat, walked out closing the door behind him and walked out to the cantina. Off in the far corner were five men playing music and the place was filled with men drinking and eating their fill of tequila and tortillas. Being the only gringo in the place Jack moved slowly to the bar and asked for a drink. He didn’t want to stir up any trouble so he kept to himself. The bartender, a rotund jolly fella with a shaggy beard, smiled showing his brown and rotting teeth as he set a glass in front of Jack and filled it with Tequila. Jack downed the drink and pointed to the glass for another. Jack motioned for the bartender to leave the bottle, looked around and saw an empty table near the doors of the cantina. Jack picked up his glass and the bottle and made his way across the room and sat down. As he did, a young Mexican man walked up and did his best to explain that it was his table, but his ability to speak any English made it difficult for Jack to understand him. Finally an older gentleman walked up and told Jack that his friend was trying to tell him that he was sitting at his table.

Jack smiled and nodded his head. There was no need to start any trouble, so he got up and headed back to his room when the young Mexican grabbed his arm and spun him around. Jack immediately went for his gun but the older gentleman stepped in front of him and explained that his friend was willing to share the table. Jack slowly put his six shooter away and sat back down smiling. The young Mexican smiled back and sat down with him as did the older gentleman.

Over the next two hours the three men shared a couple bottles of tequila, a few bowls of bean and tortillas and the very drunk young Mexican poured his heart out to Jack telling him of how his sweetheart had dumped him and ran away with another man and now he wanted to go after her and kill the man but that his friends wouldn’t allow him to ride after them, fearing the man would shoot him. Of course Jack couldn’t understand a word the man was saying and the older man wasn’t paying attention to him, still they both smiled and Jack offered his new friends a drink when his glass was empty.

As the evening went along and the music grew louder Jack found himself drunker than he wanted to be and was ready to leave. His new friend had long ago passed out on the table and as Jack stood up the doors to the cantina flew open and a tall lanky Mexican man with long brown hair and his sombrero pulled over his forehead, stumbled in with a young lady in tow. The young lady's dress was torn half off her and she was crying. The man was very angry as shouted and screamed at the top of his lungs. The older gentleman leaned over to Jack and explained that this was the man that had taken his new friend's girl, and that he was looking for the girl's boyfriend. She did nothing but cry from the moment he had hauled her off and he was sick and tired of it.

The old man stood up and told the slender man that her boyfriend was right next to him and the young man looked and then whipped her across the room into Jack’s arms.

“Not me. Him.” He shouted pointing at his new friend passed out on the table as the tall man walked out.

“You are going to be his newest best friend.” The old man said as Jack put the girl down and she moved to her passed out boyfriend.

“Great, just what I need. A drunk buddy and his teary eyes girl.” Jack said as he walked off to his room to get some more sleep.

Jack stood up, walked out of the cantina and back to his room where he dropped down on his bed, closed his eyes and went to sleep. Soon the morning sun was shining through the window of Jack’s room causing him to roll out of the path of the sun and onto the floor. He landed with a pop and as he hit the ground he jumped up on his feet, looking around and wondering what had happened. When he came to his senses he realized that he had fallen out of bed and reached for his hat and gun holster. It took him a moment to strap on his holster and when he finally got it in place he opened his door and walked out to the cantina.

Jack took a seat at an empty table and as the lovely young waitress walked up he smiled and asked for breakfast. The girl was the daughter of the owner of the hotel and cantina and in her best broken English she asked what wanted.

“Steak, two eggs and bread.” He told her.

She nodded her head and turned to walk away when Jack called out to her and asked if they had milk.

“Si senor.” And walked away.

Jack sat there rubbing his head, doing what he could to make the pain of the hangover go. With his head in his hands Jack sat quietly and waited for his food to come out. Suddenly the doors to the cantina flew open and the young man from the night before raced in looking for Jack.

Senor Jack. Mi amigo, how can I ever repay you?” He shouted as he sat down next to Jack.

“You can shut the hell up and just let me die.” Jack told him never once looking up.

“Oh senor, I am so sorry. Let me pay for your breakfast and then I will talk to you later.” He told him as he got up and walked away.

“Good, fine. Just go away and leave me alone.” Jack told him.

A short while later the waitress brought out his food and while Jack ate it she stood behind him and started rubbing his neck.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Senor Jack, my name is Juanita and my brother Alejandro, has asked me to take good care of you and to tell you that he has invited you to our hacienda for lunch.” She told him as she continued to rub his neck.

“Okay, but there’s no need to rub my neck.” He told her as he started to eat his breakfast.

Juanita let go of his neck and started to walk away. As she did, Jack suddenly realized how good it felt to have it rubbed and called her back. He apologized for sending her away and told her to continue.

“I am to take you to our hacienda at noon.” She told him as she started to rub once again.

Jack slowly nodded his head so as not to cause any more pain. When he finished Juanita took away the plates and told Jack that she would find him at noon. Jack nodded once again and got up from the table and walked outside. As he stepped out on the wooden walkway he saw a chair to his left, pulled it up, sat down and leaned back against the wall.

Jack sat there watching the village slowly pass by. Most of the townspeople were out working the fields and many of the others worked in town at various jobs around. Time passed slowly and just as slowly his head ache went away. His eyes grew heavy with the slow passing hours and he drifted off to sleep.

From his sleep Jack could hear the soft voice of a girl calling to him. He slowly opened his eyes and saw the lovely Jaunita standing in front of him.

“Senor Jack, it is time to go meet my brother.” She told him with a smile on her face.

“Jaunita, I want you to tell yourself brother gracias for the invite, but I didn’t do much of anything. In fact all I really did was catch the girl when she was flung across the floor. I am about to ride out of town. Okay?” He said to her as he stood up and started for his horse.

“But senor Jack, he will be mad if you don’t come.” Jaunita told him as he walked by her.

“I am sorry about that, but fact is, I only waited this long cause I didn’t wanta just leave without thanking him for breakfast and the invite.” Jack told her as he climbed on his horse and rode away.

“Senor Jack. Please.” She cried, but Jack was gone.

Jaunita stood there knowing her brother would be mad but there was nothing she could do. She also knew that her brother was not man enough to ride after Jack and bring him back. He could have the caballeros ride after him but again, He would have to get his father to instruct them to do so, because the men would not listen to her brother.

Jack rode north to Del Rio and found himself a small hotel near the center of town and got a room. The hotel also had a dining room and bar so Jack didn’t need to go anywhere in town for food or have a beer. Figuring he would lay low and stay out of trouble for a while Jack spent his time in his room most of the day. By the third day, Jack was getting bored and went walking through town looking for a saloon and a card game. Jack crossed over into what was the seeder part of Del Rio and found The Lucky Branch Saloon and walked in for a drink. Off in the far corner there was a card game going on so Jack asked if he could sit down. There were four men at the table, including the dealer who told Jack there was no more room. Jack nodded and walked away figuring he could wait for an empty chair.

An hour later Jack was still sitting alone. Tired of waiting, he got up and started to leave. As he walked by the poker game a young cowboy jumped and pulled his gun accusing the dandy looking fellow of cheating.

“Listen here son, I don’t need to cheat to beat you.” He told him and set his cards on the table.

“Yeah, well, I say you cheated and I’m callin’ you out.”

“Honestly boy, you do not want to do that. Why don’t I just give you back your money and you can go back home still alive.” The man told him as he started to count out the money.

The dandy was dressed in a three piece suit with fancy spurs on his boots and hat that looked like he just got off a river boat. The young cowboy was Getting tired of the man’s efforts to avoid a gun fight.

“Now, here’s your money, and I’m gonna get up and leave before this goes too far and someone ends up dead.” The dandy told him.

Jack stood back and watched the events unfold in front of him and saw that the dandy had a daninger up his sleeve and was about to shoot the young cowboy if he didn’t take the money in front of him.

“Kid, I know you think you were cheated but you’re about to be a dead man if Y’all don’t pick up the money and go.” Jack told him as his hand went to his pistol in case the kid decided to fire on him.

“Who the hell are you and what the hell do you care?” The kid shouted.

“I would just hate to see you dead, and that gambler fellow has a daninger up his sleeve ready to shoot you if you move.” Jack told him.

The gambler looked at Jack and made a move to shoot Jack for giving away his little secret but before he could move on Jack, Jack pulled his gun and dropped him. Startled by Jack, the young cowboy turned on Jack and pulled the trigger missing Jack by inches. Jack turned and fired on the boy, shooting him in the hand, forcing the gun to fly from his hand.

“You stupid little shit. I just saved your life and you’re trying to kill me. Damn son, you’re lucky I didn’t kill you too.” Jack told him as the boy cowered in pain and fear at the table.

Knowing that he couldn’t be tangled up in a shooting Jack made a beeline for the door and down the road to the hotel. He had killed another man and with his picture in the hands of every lawman west or east of the Pacos, he was likely locked up for good.

Once at the hotel he grabbed his things, jumped on his horse and headed north out of town. As he rode out of town he said Del Reo city bank and stopped, walked in, fired a shot into the air and announced it was a stick up. He yelled at the tellers to put all their money in his bag as he walked by them. What Jack did not see was a bank guard. He didn’t know if there was one or if he had stepped out so as he walked by the tellers he kept his eyes open.

“Sir, you are taking the money right out of the hands of hard working citizens.” The last teller told him as he walked up.

“Sorry, but I don’t live here and right now I need the cash.” Jack told him as he pushed the bag in front of the teller.

As he did the side door to the bank opened and the bank guard walked shouting and shooting. Jack quickly ducked and then came up firing in the general direction of the guard hitting him with his third shot. The guard slowly fell to the floor grabbing his chest as he did. By the time he hit the floor the man was dead and everyone in the bank let out a gasp of horror.

Seeing the guard go down, Jack grabbed his money bag and made for the front doors. As he ran to his horse he could see dozens of townspeople watching him. None were the gun toting kind of citizens and so Jack's escape route was clear and he rode quickly out of town and stuck to the back hills as he rode north.

He was an hour out of Del Rio when he changed his direction and took a wide turn south headed towards San Gustavo, where he would hide out for a few days and then once again head north to San Angelo. The ride to San Gustavo on the other side of the border was a hard and dusty ride through desert and uncharted wilderness. Five days later and after thinking he was lost several times, Jack rode into the small Mexican village of San Gustavo hot, tired and weary from the trail. Once in town Jack refreshed himself with a few beers at the local tavern and found a place to stay overnight. He figured on letting his horse rest, getting some much needed food and sleep for a couple of days before heading north again to the town of Comstock where he would stay for a while.

The village of San Gustavo was small enough so that he could hide out and blend in for a few days. Once rested and fed, Jack saddled up and headed back to the States where unbeknownst he was becoming a bigger and bigger name every day. There were wanted posters sent out once again with the bounty on him was up to a thousand dollars. “Wanted dead or Alive” the poster read and the name Texas Jack spread far and wide across the state.

It took him two weeks to get to Comstock and once again weary from the trail, Jack rode in quietly under the cover of darkness and by the time had put his horse up at the livery stable and found a small hotel to stay in he was ready to stay in his room for a couple days and rest. He would have food delivered to his room with a promise from the hotel clerk that he would not be bothered, Jack slept most of his time away.

Three days after reaching Comstock Jack walked out of his room, down the stairs and out the front door to a blistering hot summer day. His first reaction was to go back inside and back to his room, but he was in need of a drink and maybe some companionship from a woman. He walked down to the edge of town and found “Miss Lil’s Ladies of the Evening” and walked in. He was approached by a rotund woman with flaming red hair and a red dress that plunged in the front exposing most of her breast to the world.

“Howdy there young fellow, what can I do for ya today?” She asked.

“I’m looking for a young woman and a couple shots of tequila.” He told her as he looked around the parlor.

His eyes scanned the room and stopped on a brunette sitting in the corner, her hair hung to her mid back and her dress did little to cover her ample body. The young Mexican girl smiled back as he pointed to her and smiled. Miss Lil smiled and complimented him on his good taste as she called for Maria to join them.

“I’ll have the tequila sent to your room.” Miss Lil told him as Maria took his hand and they walked off down the hall.

“Great.” Jack said as he walked off.

Chapter Six

Has Time ran out for Jack

The Texas Ranger following Jack trail had come to several dead ends as he rode across the state. His search had taken him to every small town and village on the map and a few that weren’t. He was tired as he rode into Comstock and found a room at a small hotel. Once there he got a shave, haircut and a bath to wash the trail out of every inch of his body. He must have soaked in the bath for an hour waiting for his clothes to be cleaned.

After his bath The Ranger walked over to the tavern and ordered a steak dinner and a beer. He had decided to stay in Comstock a few days to get a much needed rest and contact the Rangers for any update on Texas Jack.

Jack in the meantime was enjoying the company of Maria and had been for the last two days. He had lost track of time and all worry of the law catching up with him. However, Miss Lil, while picking up the mail, had seen Jack's poster and figured she could use the reward to fix up her house and outfit the ladies with new dresses. She took the poster and walked to the sheriff’s office and told him of who was in her house. The Sheriff, having met and talked with the Ranger, went to find him immediately and told him Miss Lil’s story. Hearing the news he told Miss Lil to do her best to keep him there and not let on that she had gone to the law.

Jack, rested from his hard ride, was thinking of taking off again and heading west to Santa Ana. As he started to pack his saddle bags his thoughts turned to Maria and figuring that one last visit couldn’t hurt, he rode over to Miss Lil’s for one more rendezvous with Maria. Miss Lil showed him to his room and went to get Maria. Once Maria was in the room with Jack, Ranger John, who had been sitting in the lobby, gave Jack a good ten minutes to get undressed and start his tryst with Maria. Ranger John set for the sheriff and waited patiently knowing Jack would be occupied for the next hour or so.

When the sheriff walked in, he and Ranger John drew their guns and walked back to Maria’s room and burst down the door, finding Jack naked under Maria, who screamed and rolled off onto the floor, covering herself as she did.

“Don't move Jack, or I’ll shoot ya where ya lay.” The Ranger shouted.

“Anything you say Ranger but would you mind if I cover myself.” Jack asked with his hands over his head.

“Good Gid, please cover up.” The sheriff told him as he handed Jack a blanket.

With the blanket covering his body Ranger John tossed Jack his pants and told him to get dressed. Once his pants and shirt was on the sheriff put him in handcuffs and the three men walked out of Miss Lil’s and down to the jail, where Ranger John and the sheriff locked him up.

“Ranger John will be taking you back to stand trial and be hanged.” The Sheriff told him as he locked the cell door.

Back at Miss Lil’s, Maria was crying her eyes out for her lover and Miss Lil was smacking her around trying to shut her up. Maria just couldn’t stand her man being locked and swore that she would get him out one way or another. Her first thought was to seduce the sheriff but she tossed that idea out remembering that he was a horrible lover. Her second thought was to get a gun and get it to Jack. Thinking that her second idea was the one to run with, she walked over to the general store and bought an old Colt Navy Revolver and a box of ammo. With the gun and bullets in her purse she went to visit Jack in jail and after a short visit they said their goodbyes and a plan for her to go to the window in the back of his cell, later that night and hand him the gun.

It was close to eleven O’ Clock when Maria quietly walked to Jack's cell window and lowered the gun, fully loaded down to him on a string. Once he had the gun she was to go back to Miss Lil’s and wait for him and they would ride off together. It was a very good plan but Jack was never going to come find her, he was headed out of town and west as soon as he broke out.

Jack spelt through the night and when the sheriff came to wake him, Jack stuck the gun in his chest and told him to open the cell. The Sheriff, knowing that the Ranger was in the outer office, agreed to open the cell.

Jack pushed the sheriff into the cell and told him to keep quiet, locked the cell and started for the door between the jail and the office. When he reached for the door to open it the sheriff shouted to the Ranger to warn him of Jack’s escape. Jack turned on the sheriff and shot him once in the head, killing him instantly.

In the outer office the Ranger jumped to his feet when he heard the warning and then the shot. He drew his pistol as Jack opened the door and raised to shoot, but he was a split second late and as Jack burst through the door he fired on and killed the Ranger as he went for cover. Knowing that the shots were heard, Jack ran out the sheriff’s office door and jumped on the first horse he saw and rode west out of town, leaving two dead lawmen and a broken heart Maria behind.

Jack rode most of the day, stopping only long enough to water his horse and rest a short while. It took a day and a half to get to the Pecos river and start north along the river. Over the next two weeks he rode along the river and north through the mountains towards Sheffield, where he would hold up for a few days and then he was back to Fort Stockton. As he approached Fort Stockton, he took a wide berth around staying away from the Calvary and the Fort, knowing that the death of the sheriff and the Ranger must be on the wire telling every sheriff’s office in Texas to be on the lookout for Texas Jack. Stopping every evening to rest and get some sleep he turned north and then east towards Odessa, where he planned to lay low for a week or so.

Once he arrived near Odessa Jack set up camp in the foothills outside of the city and didn’t go into town. He would hunt or fish for food. He stayed outside of Odessa for several weeks laying low and keeping away from the city.

Back in Ranger Headquarters, the tail of Texas Jack was big news. He had killed one of their own and every Ranger in the company was on the lookout for him. The Rangers had increased the bounty on Jack to fifteen hundred dollars and new posters were sent out to every post office, sheriff’s and Marshall’s office in Texas. What the Rangers didn’t know was that Jack had hightailed it to Tombstone, Arizona to hideout.

The town was established on Goose Flats, a mesa above the Goodenough Mine. Within two years of its founding, although far distant from any other metropolitan area, Tombstone had a bowling alley, four churches, an ice house, a school, two banks, three newspapers, and an ice cream parlor, alongside 110 saloons, 14 gambling halls, and numerous dance halls and brothels. All of these businesses were situated among and atop many silver mines. The gentlemen and ladies of Tombstone attended operas presented by visiting acting troupes at the Schieffelin Hall opera house, while the miners and cowboys saw shows at the Bird Cage Theatre and brothel. By the time Jack rode into Tombstone things had calmed down a lot. Once a booming boom town, Tombstone was nothing more than a small western town on its last legs. The mines had all but shut down because the price of silver had fallen to .90 an ounce. Most of the townspeople had left and all that was left was a town that was a shadow of it’s one time glory, and it was exactly what Jack was looking for. A place where no one knew him and he could live his life without fear of being discovered.

Life for Jack became rather routine and with his money running out he decided it was time to head out for one big heist and then off to Lincoln, New Mexico and retire.

Jack was getting close to twenty two years old. He had been on the trail for almost seven years and was tired of dodging the law. He felt that if he could find a quiet little place to settle down, his life would become more normal and he wouldn’t have to run from the law and wonder if every face he saw was gunning for him.

Jack rode north to Albuquerque, where he knew there were banks just waiting, like flowers on a bush, to be plucked.

It would be a three day ride to Albuquerque that would take him through Lordsburg, Silver city, Socorro and then on into Albuquerque. Once in Albuquerque Jack found a small hotel across the street from one of the two banks in town. He sat out front of the hotel for several days and watched as town folks came and went on their daily chores in and around the bank. On the fifth day Jack had decided that his best shot was on a Friday afternoon just before closing. So, Jack sat for five more days and waited for the perfect time to rob the bank. There were three guards and six tellers. The Manager sat behind a huge desk in front of the vault.

On Friday morning Jack went to get breakfast at a small cafe just a few blocks down from the bank. After breakfast he walked back to his room and relaxed for the rest of the day. He pulled his pocket watch out and saw that it was time to go. He walked down stairs, paid his bill, saddled up his horse and walked across the street to the bank.

Jack walked inside, looked around and then walked to the first guard and put his gun in his side, telling the guard to move to the next guard quitely. Jack reminded the guard to keep silent and as he reached the second guard he showed him his gun and told him to be quiet. They went behind the tellers' cages and up to the manager and told him calmly that it was a stick up, to be quiet and no one dies. Jack then told him to motion the third guard over.

“George, could you join us please?” He called out to the third guard, who walked over to the manager’s desk.

Jack told him to go to each of the tellers and get all the money in their drawers and bring it back to him.

“Now, Mr. Manager, let’s open the vault.” Jack told him as he stepped to the side watching as the third guard made his way back to the Manager.

The four men walked to the vault as the tellers kept their eyes on the few customers in front of them. The Manager opened the vault and all four men stepped inside.

Jack had the third guard open the case he was given and fill it as full as possible. As he did he kept his eyes on Jack hoping for an opening. But Jack’s gun was tightly up against the back of the manager.

Once the bag was full, Jack took it and stepped back.

“Thank you gentlemen. Have a nice day.” He said with a smile and then closed the vault door.

As he made his way out the front, he turned to the tellers, smiled and ran out, jumped on his horse and rode out of town. Once out of town he rode south west through the Raman Navajo and Zuni indian nations, past parts of the Apache nation and to the small village of Oak Creek Canyon, Az. It took him five weeks to reach Oak Creek Canton and once he was sure there was no posse following him he slowed down and took his time to cross the desert and Indian country.

Once at Oak Creek Canyon he settled into a small camp outside the little village along a river where he could fish and hunt. He stayed in Oak Creek Canyon for a week to rest his horse and himself before moving north to Reno, NV. Where he hoped that he could finally find a home and settle down. He had grown tired of robbing banks, and to rob a train he would need a gang and so Jack made up his mind to try for somewhat of a normal life and give up his life of crime. Hoping that in Nevada he would be far away from the Rangers on his trail.

He was sure that everything would work out for him in Reno and so after five days of rest, Jack saddled up and headed north. Having made sure he had plenty of water, Jack rode along through the desert careful to take his time and not run his horse into the ground. Two weeks later Jack was on a small road leading into Reno. Tried from the hard ride north, Jack set up a camp alongside a small river flowing westward. His first night passed and spent the morning setting by his campfire waiting to gather his gear and ride into town.

Down the river rode a young man with one thing on his mind. He had ridden all the way from El Paso in search of the one man that could bring him fame. His life started seventeen years earlier and all he ever heard about as he grew up with the exploits of Texas Jack Ryder. His first plan was to join him and be a part of his world. Then as he grew older and his expertise with a gun grew better and better, He wanted to be bigger and better than Jack and the only way to do this was to be the man that killed Texas Jack Ryder.

A young Samual Wilson worked on getting better with his gun each and every day, and as he got older he knew that he wanted a name that would bring fear to anyone that faced him. When he turned eighteen he ran away from home and changed his name to Sammy “Killer” Miller. He worked his way across Texas robbing banks and killing anyone who might get in his way. Killer Miller followed Jack across the state and into Nevada. He was close to his ultimate goal lay just ahead of him.

As Killer Miller rode up on Jack’s camp he drew his gun and as Jack stood up to greet his visitor, Miller shot him and then shot him again and again. Jack fell to the ground with a shocked look on his face at the fact that he was shot down by an unknown kid. Miller laughed and rode on leaving Jack bleeding next to the river, believing he would soon be dead.

The first shot ripped through his left shoulder, the second in his upper back as he spun around and the third bullet tore through his right thigh. Jack lay motionless in the dirt and a puddle of red mud waiting for the final shot that would kill him, but the shot never came as Miller just rode off proud of his achievement. He had killed Texas Jack and he was going to tell the world of what he did and enhance his reputation. What he didn’t know was that Jack didn’t die. He watched Miller ride away and waited until he was gone to crawl to the river and let the cold water wash his wounds clean and slow the flow of blood.

As he lay in the river a buggy rolled by on the road just up from him. In the buggy a young woman jumped from her buggy and rushed to his side and knelt next to the body. She did her best to pull him from the water. Once on the side of the river she ran to her buggy and grabbed a blanket and several pieces of cloth that she would use as bandages. Once back by his side she started wrapping up his wounds and covered him over with the blanket. She sat with him nursing him back to health over the next two days and when he felt strong enough she helped him to her buggy and drove him to her home and put him in her bed and cleaned the blood and the mud off his face and body. It wasn’t until she had washed his face that she discovered who it was.

What she saw was the face of the man that had saved her from a life in a whore house. Taylor Page was on her way to San Francisco when the train made a stop in Stockton and she got off to stretch her legs, get some lunch and missed the train and was told that she could catch the next stagecoach west. However, got the wrong stagecoach and was on her way to Placerville. Once there she got off the coach and found out that she was headed the wrong way. Mad at herself for mistakes and the fact that her luggage was by then in San Francisco and she wasn’t. Taylor was even madder when she found out the next stage coach headed back to San Francisco wouldn’t be in for a week but the coach headed to Reno was leaving in an hour. Taylor had heard of the little town of Reno and decided to take the stage East. It was a decision that worked out for her as when she got there she found a loving family who took her in and helped her find a job and a place of her own. Over the last four years she had succeeded beyond her wildest dream in her quest to become an independent woman. She had opened a small dress shop in Reno and bought a house just outside the city limits.

Jack slept and healed over the next six days and when he woke up angry. Angry at the fact that he was taken in and surprised by the stranger. He swore revenge and did everything he could to heal. What he didn’t expect to see was Taylor Page walk into the back room of her house.

“Oh my God, Taylor what are you doing here?” He almost shouted.

“I’m doing better than you Jack.” She joked with him.

Jack tried to stand up but was too weak he fell back down on the bed. Taylor moved to his side and took his hand.

“Jack, you're too weak to be getting up. Just lay there and I’ll explain everything.” She told him.

When she was done telling Jack just what had happened and how a mis-step changed her life for the better, Jack just smiled and told her that he was happy that her life had turned out so well.

“I’m just so surprised to see you.” He told her as he looked up into her eyes.

“To be honest Jack, I’m surprised that you weren’t dead a long time again, after all you were an outlaw. Whoever shot you and left you for dead overestimated his kill shots. Plus the fact that you rolled into the ice cold water of the river, helped to stop the floor of blood.” She told him as she held his hand.

“Yeah, that little son of a Bitch is as good as dead. Once I’m feeling better, I am on the trail looking for him and trust me I won’t be just leaving him for dead, he will be dead.” He angrily told her as his voice elevated with each word.

Taylor looked at him and suggested that he get some sleep, that he wasn’t going anywhere just yet. Jack closed his eyes and he was asleep in no time at all. Taylor walked into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee and cooked some eggs and bacon. She understood Jack’s anger and needed him to see that maybe it was time to put away his six shooters and start a normal life.

The two had fallen madly in love back when they first met and he sent her away from the Whore House to start a new life. Maybe now it was her chance to help him start a new life. She knew he would never come to work in the dress shop, so they would have to find him a job somewhere in town. When she looked at him tye love she felt those years ago came rushing back and she could only hope that he felt the same way and that would be enough to keep him out of trouble.

An hour later she woke him again and brought him the eggs, bacon and coffee. She helped him sit up in bed and hand fed him. He didn’t like it but he was in too much pain to feed himself. When he was done, he thanked her and she started hinting that it would be nice if he could stay around a while.

Over the next two weeks as Jack continues to heal, Taylor reminds him of the great times they shared and how nice it would be if he settled down with her and as much as he would like to do that he keeps thinking of the kid who shot. Then one day as Jack was starting to get around better and the wounds healed up he and Taylor sat down to dinner one night and she asked him what brought him to Reno.

Jack sat back in his chair and told her that he was getting tired of being chased, tired of spending his time in the trail dodging bullets from lawmen.

“I guess I Just felt it was time to hang up the six shooters and try to live a normal life.” He told her. “And I know what you’re going to say, forget about the kid that tried to kill me and start anew. Live a normal life. Here. With you.”

“What would be so bad about that Jack? Why can’t you start new just like I did?” She asked as she reached out for his hand.

“I need to teach that kid a lesson.” He almost shouted.

“Do you really?” She asked.

“He almost killed me. He shot me and left me to die.” He told her as he pulled his hand back.

“But he didn’t. And look at where you are now. Look at who you’re with. if he hadn't shot you we wouldn’t be here right now.” She told him.

“But he almost killed me.” He shouted.

“But he didn’t.” She shouted back.

Jack sat there for a moment and thought about what she said. He didn’t kill him, and if he hadn’t shot him he would be with Taylor. She was right. He hated to admit it but she was right and he knew it. He was going to have to give in and give up his thoughts of revenge.

“If I stay here with you, what am I going to do? I sure the hell ain't workin’ in no dress shop.” He told her.

Taylor was about to tell him that he could find a job when it hit her that he was agreeing, that he was going to stay with her. Taylor stood up and threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek.

“Monday, I’ll help you find a job. Okay?” She asked.

He kissed her back and told her that Monday would be fine. The weekend passed with no more mention of the kid that shot him or his plan for revenge and on Monday morning they went into town and bought him some new clothes. On the way to her dress shop they passed the Wells Fargo office and saw a “Man wanted” sign in the window. As they approached the office Taylor stopped him and asked if he’d robbed any Wells Fargo stagecoaches in Texas.

“Naw, the damn things are too much trouble. I stuck to banks.” He told her and continued on in.

Once inside they met the agent in charge and asked about the job. He needed a shotgun rider for the stage going from Reno to Virginia City.

“You ever handled a shotgun before?” The agent asked.

“No, but I’m pretty handy with my pistol.” He said as he quickly drew on the man and then just as quickly slide the gun back in it’s holster.

“That’s real nice, but if ya work for me you’ll be handling a shotgun.” The agent tells him again.

Jack assured him that he was fine with the shotguns and the agent hired him and told him his first ride was inbound from Virginia City and as soon as they changed horses it was on its way back.

“Are you ready to work?” the gent asked.

Jack told he was and that all he needed was the shotgun. The agent went behind the counter and handed Jack a shotgun and a box of shotgun shells.

“Just don’t be killing no injuns, they’re friendly around here and ain’t no need to go getting them all riled up.” He told him, walked back around the counter and handed him the shotgun and shells. “You can wait here until the stage comes in. It should r be more than an hour.”

Jack told him he would wait outside and he and Taylor started to walk out when the agent stopped him and asked his name.

“Bob, Bob Smith.” Jack told him and then walked out with Taylor.

“That was quick. Where did you come up with that name?” She asked once they were out the door.

“It just popped into my head. I figured it was as good as any.” He told her as they sat and waited for the stage.

“Hey, listen with my things is a large brown satchel. Could you take it and hide it somewhere in the house?” He asked.

“Sure. I’d be happy to. What’s inside of it?” She asked.

“The haul from the last bank. I need to keep it safe until there comes a time that I may need it. ya never know what might happen and if I’m killed on the stage coach run, it’s all yours. So with it what you want but until then just put it away. okay?” He asked.

Taylor nodded her head in agreement as the sounds of the stagecoach rounded the corner coming into town.

“Thanks. I guess I’ll see you in a day or two.” He told her as the coach pulled up and stopped in front of the Wells Fargo office.

Taylor got and walked away, heading back home to hide the satchel and then off to her store. Jack walked up to the coach and told the driver he was the new shotgun. The driver smiled and mentioned him up as the few passengers got off and walked away. The driver pulled the coach around the corner and stopped as four men brought out six fresh horses and hooked them up. Once done the driver yelled at each of the horses as if he knew them all by name and the stage pulled out, down the street and back to the Wells Fargo office to pick up and passengers for the trip to Virginia City.

An older man with a small case got innocent and he was followed by another man all dressed up and looking like he was going to a party. As soon as the agent slammed the doors shut, the driver shouted out to the horse again and they were on their way.

As the stagecoach made its way along the dusty trail to Virginia City, the two men talked and got to know each other. The driver was an old hand at driving the coach, he had been doing it for ten years and had yet to be held up. His name was doc. Watson and he had come west when he was just a small child with his parents. doc. must have been in his mid forties but you’d never hear him say it. He was always dusty from the trail and his graying beard covered his neck. He stood close to,six feet tall and whenever he stood up he stopped over from sitting on the stage for hours on end. He loved in Virginia City and when driving the stage you could find him sleeping off a drunk.

It wasn’t an hour later, as the stage rounded a corner on an incline that a young man on horseback and with a mask across his face farted out from behind a rock formation at the top of the incline, causing doc. to pull up on the raines bringing the stage to a stop. The kid raised his gun and aimed at the driver and shot over his head.

Before the kid could cock and fire another round, Bob, who had the shotgun laying across his lap, leveled up his shotgun and shot the masked man dead in his tracks. As the kid fell off his horse dead, Bob jumped off the stage and ran to the body laying in the coaches path. He pulled back the mask.

“Son of a Bitch! It’s him!” Bob shouted and pulled the body off to the side of the trail.

“Someone you know?” The driver asked as Bob got back on the stage.

“That little son of a bitch, tried to rob me and when he found I didn’t have any money he shot and left me for dead.” Bob told his new friend.

“Well, just leave him there, we’ll send someone back to get the body later,” doc. told him and motioned for him to get back on the stage. “We got a schedule to keep, come on shotgun, let’s roll.”

As Bob climbed up he smiled at the name Shotgun Bob and as they drove off down the trail he smiled and almost laughed at the irony of the kid dying while trying to rob him again.

On the return run to Reno with no passengers and little cargo, the team of doc. Watson and Shotgun Bob made good time. The two men talked and laughed about the attempted hold up with doc. telling Bob it was the first time anyone had ever tried to rob him.

“It’ll be the last time too.” Bob joked as they rode along.

Back in Reno, doc. spread the word on Shotgun Bob through every saloon in town and by the time the next stage pulled out, Shotgun Bob was a local hero. Bob liked the notoriety and the free drinks it brought, but Taylor wasn’t so sure it was a good thing. Bob did his best to convince her it cemented his identity as Shotgun Bob and that would help leave Texas Jack in the wind.

Chapter Seven

Texas Jack’s New life

With the tail of Shotgun Bob’s exploits on his very first run to Virginia City spread far and wide in and around Reno, Texas Jack/Shotgun Bob was well on his way to a new life. The Wells Fargo agent was very happy with his new hire and bought Bob a drink and a slap on the back to thank him for his work in his first run.

“That’s it? A drink and a slap on the back. It’s too much boss.” Bob sarcastically told him as he downed the drink.

Over the next few months the run to Virginia City and back were nothing if not boring. No fun, no excitement and thankfully no more kids trying to stick up the stage. However, that all changed on the afternoon of February 11th when as the stage was making its way back to Reno with three passengers and a strongbox full of gold that was to be deposited in the Reno Central bank, that things once again got interesting.

The stage was rolling along the Geiger Grade of the foothills outside of Virginia City at the southern edge of Washoe County when, and as they approached a bend in the trail the stagecoach was jumped by three outlaws looking to take the strongbox of gold.

doc. Quickly pulled the team to a halt and while one of the three bandits screamed at doc. to hand over the strongbox, another had a gun aimed at Bob and told him to drop the shotgun, while the other watched the trail to make sure no one was riding up on them. doc. Struggled to pick up the heavy strongbox and dumped it over the side. When the men stopped the stage Bob could see that, not only was he only gunned, but that a shotgun was useless in this situation. So, as they came to a halt, and the men shouted instructions at them, he lowed the shotgun between his legs and quickly and quietly cocked the shotgun and when the bandit screamed him to toss it over, he did as he was told, tossed the shotgun at the man hoping that when it hit the ground the shotgun would fire and momentarily distract the men long enough for Bob to draw and with a little luck kill the three men. As the shotgun flew towards the gunmen, Bob readied himself and waited for that split second when all three men would flinch at the shotgun going off.

Bob watched as the shotgun flew through the air and landed at the feet of the man’s horse and went off, scaring the horse and causing him to buck and throw the man off his back. As he fell to the ground, Bob quickly stood, pulled his six shooter and shot the man who had shouted at doc. killing him with a shot through the head. Then he took aim at the man watching the trail and put a round through his chest and dropping him off his horse. While this was going on the the third man who had been bucked off his horse was doing his best to find the gun that had slipped from his hand while being bucked off but before he could get to the gun, Bob fired a third shot and killed him too.

“Son of a Bitch, you could have gotten us killed.” doc. shouted at him.

“Yeah, but I didn’t, did I?” Bob said back to him as he got off the coach and approached the first man on the ground to make sure he was dead.

“Good God almighty son, what the hell,were you thinking?” doc. asked as he too got off the stage.

“I was thinking that if I were them, there would be no sense in leaving witnesses and we’d all be dead soon. So, I figured, I’d have a better chance if I killed them first.” Bob explained as he started toward the second gunmen to see if he was dead.

While Bob and doc. we’re discussing the issues of what Bob should or should not have done. The passengers had gotten out and started thanking Bob for saving their lives. doc. still wasn’t happy but he couldn’t argue with the outcome of Bob taking control. So he told the people to get back on the stage and as he climbed back up to the driver's seat he yelled at Bob to get on board or he'd leave him. Bob picked up his shotgun and climbed up as doc. whipped the horses and yelled at them to go.

As they approached Reno doc. finally broke down and told Bob that he had earned his money this trip. He had saved the lives of the passengers and he most likely was right the bandits would have killed them and even if they didn’t he saved the gold shipment and no one was hurt.

“Okay, so what you’re saying is that I done good.” Bob asked.

“Yes, I hate to admit it but I was wrong and you were right. Ya done good.” doc. lamented.

“Thanks doc. that means a lot coming from an old timer like you.” Bob told him as they rode on.

“Old timer? I’ll have you know that…that, well, I ain't that old, ya whippersnapper.” doc. told him as they rode along.

Once back at the Wells Fargo office in Reno, Agent Floyd congratulated him on a job well done.

“See, I told ya being handing with my gun would come in handy.” Bob told him with a smile.

Floyd nodded and told them both to go have a beer on him. Down to the broken Branch Saloon the word on Bob’s escapades once again spread throughout the town, but back in Texas, The Rangers were still looking for Texas Jack. They didn’t take lightly the killing of one of their own.

Each Ranger carried with him a wanted poster with him in case he ran across the outlaw. Texas Jack was top priority and wanted dead or alive. With each day that passed the legend grew and The Rangers grew increasingly frustrated at the lack of progress on the case and there was never a hint that Jack had moved on to Nevada.

Over the next year Bob and doc. made run after run with no interference from robbers. The word had reached out to the towns and villages close to Reno that Shotgun Bob was someone to be reckoned with. It was during this time that a band of disgruntled band of about twenty Apache Indians went on the warpath, burning and pillaging farm houses and homesteaders across the territory. Agent Floyd had hired a second man, to make the run to Virginia City just in case. Jim Miller was a young man in his early twenties, tall and lanky with Sandy brown hair and brown eyes. He had proven to be a very good shot with a Winchester rifle; he sat on top of the stage with the luggage as a lookout.

It was in his third trip back from Virginia City that the stage was hit by the band of Indians. doc. whipped the raines hard and had the horses running wild while Jim sat there looking at the Indians.

“What the hell are you doing? Why aren’t you shooting?” Doc. yelled at him.

“When I was hired, Floyd told me not to shoot any injuns.” Bob shouted back at him.

“That was only if they weren’t shooting at you. These injuns are shooting at you, I think Dloyd will understand if you kill them.” Doc. shouted.

Bob took aim and started shooting, both Jim and Bob were doing their best to drive the Indians back, but while they were shooting at the Indians behind them another small group of them attacked from the left. The first arrow from that group hit doc. directly in the neck, he dropped the raines and slumped forward. Two of the four passengers pulled out their guns and started firing on the Indians to the left.

Soon, with half of their band dead or wounded the Indians ended their attack on the stage and fell back to aid their wounded and carry off their dead. Bob looked up and saw them backing off and turned to doc. to tell him what was happening but doc. was dead. Bob took hold of the raines and kept the horses running while Jim pulled doc. up on the luggage area and then crawled into the shotgun seat.

Once back in the Reno office Bob told the story and Floyd sent off a telegram to the Army fort on the border of California and informed them of the attack and where the Indians were last seen. Doc. was carried from the stage to the doctors office and from there he was buried later the following day. Bob and Taylor, who had become good friends with doc. as well as Floyd, Jim and a few other friends attended and said their goodbyes.

Bob had been on the job almost a year, he and Taylor had gotten married and life for the both of them seemed to be going very well but this indian attack worried Taylor and she implored Bob to quit and find another job. Bob agreed and went to inform Agent Floyd that the last run was his last run. Floyd wasn’t happy but he understood. He asked Bob what he was going to do and Bob did not have an answer. He had no idea what he would be doing or evening if he and Taylor would be staying in town, what he did know was that as he grew older he was sure he wanted a much safer job.

“I’ve been on an adventure since I was fifteen years old and I figure it’s time to stop.” He told Floyd as he handed him the shotgun and walked out of the office.

Over the next three months Bob sat on his front porch and wondered what to do with his life. He was now a law abiding citizen and at a loss of what to do. He would walk down to the Broken Branch Saloon for an afternoon drink once in a while and it was during one of those afternoon drinks that Clyde Vasquez the owner of the saloon sat down with his old friend and talked about the fact the he was headed west out to San Francisco where he had bought a new saloon.

“What’d ya gonna do with this one?” Bob asked as he sipped his whiskey.

“Figure I’ll sell it, if I can find a buyer.” Clyde told him.

“Welp, sorry to see ya leave, but I guess it’s onward and upward, ah Clyde?” Bob said as he finished his drink. “By the way, how much ya askin’ for this dump?”

Clyde smiled and told him the dump was going for two thousand dollars. Bob nodded, smiled and told Clyde he’d see him tomorrow.

“Ya thinkin’ of buyin’ Bob?” Clyde asked as Bob walked off.

“I’m pretty sure Taylor won’t let me waste our savings on a run down old saloon like this one.” He shouted back to him as he walked out the door and headed home.

Once home Bob searches for and finds his sachal of money from the last bank heist and starts counting, when he passed two thousand he gathered it up and put it in his saddle bags and started back down to the saloon. Bob had never once thought of owning a saloon, too much trouble, too many problems, but for whatever reason Bob was set on buying this one. On his way he stops at the dress shop and tells Taylor what he intent on doing and while she is not thrilled about the idea, she does know there is no stopping Bob once he’s made up his mind and so she wishes him well and waves as he walks out.

Once back at the Broken Branch Bob goes to the office sitting on the second floor and knocks. From inside Clyde shouts out “Come in”, and Bob walks in.

“Well Bob, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company again this fine afternoon?” He asked as he stood to shake Bob’s hand.

Instead of shaking hands Bob holds out the saddle bags and dumps the two thousand dollars in Clyde’s desk.

“I think I’ll buy your saloon Clyde.” Bob said as he sat down.

Clyde looked down at the money and back at Bob with a look of amazement.

“Damn Bob, ya must have saved every dollar from the Wells Fargo job or ya robbed a bank.” Clyde joked with him.

Bob just smiled and asked if it was enough. Clyde quickly counted the money and told him that it was right on the money.

“If you meet at the bank tomorrow around eleven, we’ll sign papers and you’ll be the new owner of the Broken Branch Saloon.” Clyde told him and reached to shake his hand again.

Bob stood up, took Clyde’s hand and the deal was set. All that was needed now was to sign paper and complete the deal.

“Bob my friend, you amaze me at times. All these tails of you on the stagecoach, killing injuns and bad guys. If I didn’t know better I would think you were once an outlaw yourself.” Clyde joked again.

“Don't tell nobody, but I’m the infamous Texas Jack Ryder.” Bob confided in him, knowing he would just laugh it off.

“Texas Jack huh? That’s rich. And I believe this calls for a drink from my private stock, or maybe I should say, your private stock.” Clyde laughed and turned to his cabinet and reached for a bottle of Jose Quervo Tequila and two glasses.

Clyde poured out two drinks and they raised them up and Clyde made a toast.

“To Bob and the best of luck with the Broken Branch Saloon.” He toasted and started to drink.

“Wait a minute, I think I’m gonna rename it ‘Shotgun Bob’s Silver Dollar Saloon'.” Bob told him with a smile.

“Okay, to Shotgun Bob’s Silver Dollar Saloon. Best of luck Bob.” Clyde toasted and they both drank down the tequila.

“Damn, that’s good stuff. Make sure you leave that when you go.” Bob’s as he held his glass out another shot.

“Be happy to Bob.” Clyde said as he poured the second shot.

Chapter Eight

Shotgun Bob’s Silver Dollar Saloon

With the papers signed and Clyde well on his way to San Francisco Bob settled into his new life and a saloon owner. The first thing he did was have two signs printed for the saloon, the first, to be hung at the door, said.

NO GUNS allowed INSIDE

Hang em’ high on the rack!!

The second sign read.

Do you really want to die today?

HANG UP YOUR GUNS!!!

Bob took some of the heist money and had the placed painted, he hired a second bartender and had the local carpenter build him a solid oak table to sit at the rear of the bar where Bob could keep an eye on everything. He also hire Taylor to be his business manager and run the financial end of the business and to take over the office upstairs. Taylor agreed and sold her shop to one of her frequent buyer lady friends for a very nice monthly payment.

Within a month of the take over The Silver Dollar was once again operating in the red, it had become a higher class establishment, it was still a saloon and the cowboys and ranchers were the people who were the main people who came in, but Bob was making an attempt to clean up the image and cut down on the number of shootouts and gun fights in the saloon. The signs were a deterrent as was Bob sitting there with his shotgun always within reach in front of him, but still there was the occasional gun fight and they were often settled with a blast from Bob’s shotgun. For ten years the saloon is a home away from home for Bob and Taylor and when they are not there Bob relies on his bartenders to make sure it runs smoothly. But then one day as Bob sits quietly at his desk and Taylor at hers upstairs, two no name gunmen meet on the street in front of the Silver Dollar Saloon and draw on each other and as the slower of the two men slowly drops to the ground he fires off a final shot and dies.

As the shots ring out Bob grabs his shotgun and runs to the doors and into the streets where he finds the dead man laying face down and his killer getting on his horse to ride off. Bob immediately fires off a round and the gunslinger whips his pony around to find Bob’s shotgun in his face and Bob telling him to get down.

As the cowboy gets down the sheriff, John Trosper, comes running from his office to find that Bob has taken control and is holding the cowboy for his friend the sheriff. As Sheriff Trosper runs up one of the barmaids runs into the street and yells for Bob to come quick. Bob follows her to the barmaid and found Taylor laying in the floor of her office in a pool of blood and a gunshot to the chest. He did his best to bring her around but Taylor was dead. Bob kneeled there for a few minutes and then picked up his shotgun and headed down the stairs and over to the sheriff’s office to confront the man who he knew had killed his wife. As Bob rushed in, Sheriff Trosper stopped him and asked what he thought he was going to do.

“I’m gonna kill the son of a Bitch that killed Taylor.” He shouted.

The sheriff explained that this man only had one bullet fired from his gun and it was in the dead man.

“I may be wrong Bob but I don’t think I am. The man that shot Taylor is lying dead over at the doc’s office.” Trosper told him.

“Taylor wouldn’t be dead if this ass hadn’t had a gun fight out front of my saloon. He deserves to die as much as any man.” Bob shouted.

“I can’t let you do that Bob. The man’s gonna stand trail for murder, get hung and that’ll be that.” The sheriff told him with a hand on his gun.

Bob started to calm down a bit and let his arms drop and the shotgun went to his side.

“She’s dead, John. She’s dead and that son of a bitch may as well have shot her.” Bob said as he started to cry.

The sheriff took Bob and sat him down on a bench in the office and sat with him trying to explain that he needed to let the law run its course. The law would make him pay for what he had done. When Bob finally calmed down and thanked John, he got up and went back to the saloon. By the time he made his way back Taylor’s body had been moved out of the saloon and over to the doctors office and the blood cleaned as best as possible, but there would be a stain there forever and forever reminding Bob what had happened. Bob went home that night and for the first time in many years he was alone. He spent the night in his living room remembering everything he could about Taylor. He finally fell asleep at the table with a drink in his hand.

The following day he and his friends buried Taylor up on boot hill not far from the man that killed her. When she was laid to rest Bob walked back to the saloon and brought out the bottle of Tequila Clyde had left for him. It was among a collection of six bottles that Clyde had sent up from Mexico. The first bottle was gone by two in the afternoon. The second by four and so in through the night until Bob passed out.

It took him a year to finally get over the loss of his wife to a point where he stopped drinking. In that time the saloon was kept running by the bartenders and Bob’s friends, but it wasn’t what it once was and two years later Bob sold The Silver Dollar Saloon to the owner of the whore house on the edge of town. Miss Sally Winters paid Bob a thousand dollars for the saloon and made him a silent owner with a room upstairs for those nights when he just couldn’t make it home. She also put a chair out front with a pad on it so he could sit out front and watch as the world rolled by.

Sally renamed the saloon the Lucky Lady and brought her girls in to work as barmaids and entertainment for lonesome cowboys, she also lowered the price of drinks by a nickel so the men would drink more, spend more and feel freer to take a girl upstairs and as time moved on the reputation of the saloon slipped backwards and Bob could have cared less. His one reason for living was fine and all he carried about was the drink in his hand and the memory of his Taylor.

A week later the man was brought to trail and found innocent of murder. Bob was sitting in the courtroom when the verdict was announced and screamed at the top of his lungs that he wasn guilty as sin and that would pay for his sins.

“You are going to die a horrible death. Not even God will save you boy. I hope you have made peace with your maker cause one of these days, you and I are gonna go round and round and you are going to lose.” Bob shouted and then got up and walked out of the courtroom and back to his house to prepare to hunt the man down and kill him.

Once released from custody the young man grabbed his belongings and hightailed it out of town. Sitting on the pot-rich of his house where had often sat with the love of his life, Bob watched as the young rode right past his house and out of town. It would only take Bob a few minutes to saddle up and hit the trail behind him.

Knowing the trail and knowing that he needed to be well away from town when he caught up with him, Bob trailed the man for two days as he rode west into the mountains. The young man was almost twenty years old and the gunfight that had killed Taylor was just another attempt to be “The top gunfight” around. The kid knew he was quick and had proven it many times over the last two years up and down Nevada. What he hadn’t counted on was that the wife of Texas Jack was the woman he had helped kill. Bob deep down inside of him, Bob brought back all of the hostility that he had felt for so many years, that he had buried for the love of Taylor. Now, as he rode after the man who helped kill her, everything that had driven him before was fresh and new again. His rage kept him going and his hatred fueled his passion for revenge and this time Taylor wasn’t there to cool him down. He would have his revenge this time.

Ahead in the trail and by now deep into the mountains west of Reno, young William Carter was confident that he had made a clean getaway and the old man would never be able to find him. Carter was six foot one with red hair and green eyes that were as cold as steel. He had left home at seventeen after killing that man that killed his kid brother. The thrill and excitement of watching the man drop to the ground and take his last breath was overwhelming and drove him to become what he always knew he would be, a gunslinger, an outlaw one step ahead of the law. Fighting for his life every time another man drew down on him. It was what he lived for.

Carter stopped by the river side and started a fire and walked off into the woods to find game for dinner. The rabbit he killed was small but it most more than enough for him. As he cooked over the fire he didn’t hear Bob slowly moving up behind him. Whe he did realize there was someone back there it was too late. Bob stood tall, his pistol at his side, he wasn’t going to let the kid draw on him, he wasn’t stupid, the kid could be way safer and shoot him before he could draw. So he stood there and as Carter quickly turned and pulled his gun, Bob shot him in the leg, causing him to drop down onto one knee, losing his gun as he did.

Bob slowly walked up to the kid and raised the gun up to the kids head and fired. The shot sliced through his ears and he screamed out in pain as he grabbed the half missing earlobe.

“Listen mister, I didn’t kill your wife. Honest. It was Blake, he fired and shot her.” Carter yelled at him.

“oh, okay. I see and I guess you think that makes a difference to me. Okay, so I won’t keep you either. I’ll shoot you in the kneecaps, so you can’t crawl away or bleed to death. I’ll shoot the elbows so you can’t do anything but lay there and pray to die.” Bob told him with a sadistic smile on his face.

Bob fired again, hitting the kid in the right knee and as the kid went down he shot the left knee and the kid screamed even louder. Bib let him lay there for a bit and then walked up, kicked him in the ribs to roll him over and shot both elbows and started to walk away.

Suddenly Bob turned around and walked back. He stood over the kid and looked down at him.

“Ya know, you’re gonna wish I killed you, because you’re in bear country and I understand they love fresh meat.” Bob said as he laughed and walked away.

The kid shouted at him not to leave him. He begged Bob not to go, but the pleas fell on daft ears. Then he begged Bob to kill him, it Bob just kept walking back to his horse. He climbed on and rode away know the kid would never make it through the night.

Bob rode home and put his horse away and walked down to the saloon for a drink. As he walked in Sally asked where he’s been for the last two days and Bob just smiled and ask Gus for a drink.

As the years slowly passed by Bob grew older and where he was once a very happy man he was now a sullen angry man. Everyone in town remembered Shotgun Bob but many of the new residents had no idea who the old man out front of the Lucky Lady Saloon was. His hair had grown longer and white, his beard was scruffy and white and his clothes were baggy, old and torn. The hat he wore was almost always pulled down over his eyes and the chances were good that he was asleep while he sat there.

Deep down inside the Bob everyone knew of was dead, on the outside he may as well have been dead, because he had nothing to live for and each day became just another day spent wishing that life hadn’t played such a horrible trick on him. Bob was lost and his heart was broken.

Back in Texas the Legend of Texas Jack had grown cold. There hadn’t been a mention of his name in years and every Ranger that had once been after him had either retired or been killed and the new Rangers had other outlaws to worry about. No sense in wasting time on a very old case. Then one days a new Ranger signed on. A rather tall lanky stranger was William Walters.

He was just 15 years old when Walters and still living at home in Lexington, Kentucky, in 1836 when he learned that his brother had been killed by the Mexican army in the massacre at Goliad and so he headed out to Texas looking for some payback, unfortunately for the boy who was more than six feet tall and weighed in around 230 pounds and nicknamed “Big Bear”, the war was over by the time he arrived. Walters decided to stay on in the new Texas Republic, and eventually moved to San Antonio. After joining the Texan Army to repulse a Mexican invasion in 1842, he was captured and spent two years in a notoriously brutal prison at Vera Cruz. Upon his return to Texas, Wallace joined up with the Rangers. His first assignment was to track down, kill or bring to justice Texas Jack Ryder.

When he read over the information on Jack he wondered why they were still looking for him when after all the time that had passed, he could very well be dead already. When he questioned the Captain as to why, the Captain simply said,

“First of all son, you don’t question orders and secondly, He’s an outlaw, he killed one of our own and we always get our man.” The Captain almost yelled at him.

Walters nodded his head, turned around and started his search for Texas Jack. That was close to five years ago and William Walters was almost twenty years old when he started his search and nothing if not eager to find his man. His devotion to his duty stemmed from his devotion to his family and the need to succeed at whatever he did. So he set out retracing every foot step and every bank he robbed. Where Jack went he went and when he finally met up with Rebecca and her father, he was no closer to catching than he was when he left. But he pushed onward and one evening while sitting at his campfire, Walters decided to go off the possible trail and venture into Nevada and see if he couldn’t find his trail. He talked with Indians along the way and some of the older men remembered a crazy man riding through the desert headed north.

When Walters finally rode into Virginia City, he was tired and dirty from the long ride. He checked into the local hotel and then down to the bath house to get, his clothes cleaned, a shave, hair cut and bath. At each place he asked if anyone had seen the man in the wanted poster. Each of them said no, that they hadn’t seen anyone like that and so after his bath, he went back to the hotel and up to his room to get some much needed rest. At breakfast the next more he asked the waitress and she told The Ranger he should check with the sheriff.

“That was my next move Miss, thank you.” He said as he drank his coffee.

The Ranger sat and enjoyed his meal and then after paying he walked over to the sheriff’s office and placed the wanted poster on the sheriff’s desk and asked if he had seen him.

“You do realize that you are way out of your jurisdiction, don’t you, Ranger?” The sheriff asked.

The Ranger nodded and asked again if he had ever seen the man in the poster.

“Can’t really be sure, but it kinda looks like Shotgun Bob over in Reno.” He told him.

“Shotgun Bob, in Reno huh?” He asked.

“Yep. He’s almost a legend over there. One time he killed three stagecoach robbers and then there was the Indians that attacked the stage, he kill a bunch of them and ran em’ off. And then in his first run he blasted a young would be holdup man with his shotgun, it’s how he got the nickname.” The sheriff told him.

The Ranger smiled knowing that this very well could be his man. He thanked the sheriff for the information and went back to the hotel to rest up for his ride to Reno the next day.

Bright and early the next morning Ranger Walters saddled up and headed out for Reno and hopefully find Texas Jack.

Chapter Nine

Showdown in Reno

With no idea what was headed his way Bob was happy to waste away his days remembering Taylor and the love they shared. His days of roaming and robbing banks was long over and while he sat on the front walkway of what was once his saloon, the only thing he worried about the little asshole cowboys who seemed to think taunting him was the highlight of their drab day. Bob wanted to fight back, he wanted to teach them a lesson but it just seemed to be a waste of his time and energy. They would never learn. The young cowboys had no idea who it was they were messing with. The tails of Shotgun Bob were long ago forgotten by everyone except the older citizens who had been around to witness or hear of the adventures of Shotgun Bob. Nowadays he wasn’t much more than an old man resting his bones in the shade of the saloon’s awning.

Inside the Lucky Lady saloon, Sally, the owner put up with the antics of William, better known as Billy and Robert Jones, because they were the mayor’s sons and she did not want to antagonize the mayor. The boys were just old enough to terrorize the town folks and find it funny and young enough to stay out of trouble because of their age and who their father was. Billy stood only five foot seven with brown hair and eyes. He was skinny and wore his six shooter low on his hip for a fast draw. The low holster was for show, because he was far too much of a cowardly prankster to actually call out anyone. His brother Robert, also known as Little brother, although the hated the name tag, was short and skinny. His long blond hair and green eye made him look younger than he was. He too wore his gun low on his hip but he too relied on his fathers name to stay away from real trouble.

Each day at breakfast, their father implored them to find an avenue in life that would bring a meaning to their lackluster existence. The boys, however, we’re having too much fun playing pranks on the towns folks and kicking the chair out from under the old man in front of the saloon.

With a couple of drinks in their bellies to bolster their conference they would quietly walk up on Bob, sleeping in his chair and kick the chair out from under him. This prank was played out every afternoon to the great delight of the boys. Bob would always do his best to jump up and scold the boys but age any any other number of ailments made it difficult at best to jump up. So he yelled and they laughed. Still, in his mind Bob knew there would come a day when he would tire of the prank and scatter their flesh and blood on the streets of Reno.

Each day, Sally would ask the boys to be nice to Bob and leave him be and each day her begging fell upon deft ears.

“Boy’s I am tellin’ ya, messin’ with Bob is not a good idea.” She would say to them.

The boys would just chuckle and walk out, kick out his chair and laugh as they walked away. Sally would always come out, help Bob up, console him and then buy him a drink.

That night Bob fell asleep thinking of his revenge. He would teach those boys about frontier justice and make sure they never kicked his chair out again.

The next day as Bob sat resting on the walkway of the saloon with his hat pulled over his eyes, the two boys once again approached him, snickered. Billy stepped forward and kicked the chair of the sleeping old man.

Hitting the wooden walkway with a thump, Bob realized he had missed his chance.

“Ya damn young whippersnappers. If I were ten years younger you’d know who you’re messin’ with” He shout at them as they walked off.

Knowing what was about to happen, Sally walked out and helped Bib to his feet.

“Why, if I were ten years younger I'd teach those young whipped snappers a thing or two. Nobody drops shotgun Bob like that!” Bob yelled as Sally got him to his feet.

“Come on Bob, let me get you a drink.” She offered as she helped him up.

“I don't want a drink, I wanna kick some ass, sorry little shits caught me off guard.” Bob screamed out.

“I know Bob, but this happens every day about this time and before you go off killing the mayor's kids, you need a drink and to calm down a bit.” She offered again.

“Don't ever get old Sally. They treat ya like crap. No respect, no respect at all. Why if I were....”

“I know Bob, ten years younger.” She said as she helped Bob walk up into the saloon.

Sally guided Bob to the bar and told Gus to pour him a shot of whiskey. Bob rubbed his butt as Gus pulled out a bottle, a glass, and pours out the shot and pushed it to Bob, who in turn grabs the glass and downs the drink.

“Get ya again, did they Bob?” Gus asked.

“One of these days, Gus, one of these days, I'm gonna drop them sons of....”

“Bob, drink your drink and relax. I'll have the sheriff talk to them.”

“Won't do no good. They need to be taught a lesson, and I'm just the one to do it. What we need to teach them is a little frontier justice.” Bob told her.

Bob picked up his drink and drank it down. Then he turned and limped out the door rubbing his butt as he walked away.

“Fifteen years ago Bob would have never let them get the drop on him.” Sally told Gus as she downed a shot.

Shotgun Bob walked out, looked around and for the two cowboys but they were nowhere to be found. Bob sat down, leaned back in his chair, shut his eyes and pulled his hat down, grumbled to himself and drifted off to sleep once again.

A Couple of hours later Bob got up and walked into the saloon and took a seat at what use to be his desk when he owned the saloon. Gus brought his a drink an DJ he slowly drank it down and started to play a game of solitaire.

As he did the Ranger came riding into town he was lookin’ for Texas Jack. Straight down Main Street he rode, lookin’ from left to right. The Ranger sat tall in the saddle and was very sure of himself. He wore a white cowboy hat with a grayish shirt and red bandanna around his neck. His six-shooter hanging low on his right hip and a Texas Ranger star pinned to his shirt. As he rode down Main Street of town his eyes watched as the town people looked on. He tipped his hat to the ladies and smiled at the gentlemen as he rode by.

When he sees the sheriff's office he stopped, hops off his horse, tied him to the rail and walked into the sheriff's office.

“Well, Howdy stranger, what can I do for Ya?” The Sheriff asked as the man walked in.

“Ranger! Texas Ranger, Sheriff and I'm lookin’ an outlaw by the name of Texas Jack.” The Ranger told him.

“I’m Sheriff John Trosper and I wish I could help ya Ranger, but I ain’t never heard of him, and if ya didn't notice, this here is Nevada. You're a bit out of your jurisdiction.” The Sheriff told him as he stood up.

“I am well aware of that Sheriff, but this man is a killer and I aim to bring him in, dead or alive.” The Ranger told him.

“That's all well and good Ranger, but like I said there ain't no one around here by that name.” The Sheriff told him again.

“No harm in gettin’ a drink is there sheriff?” The Ranger asked as he turned towards the door.

“None whatsoever. The saloon is across the street. Have yourself one on me. Just tell Gus I sent you over.” He told him.

“Thank ya kindly Sheriff, I guess I'll be on my way.” The Ranger said as he reached the door.

The Ranger walked out of the Sheriff’s office and walked across the street to the saloon. The bartender walked up as the Ranger leaned against the bar.

“What’ll be, stranger?” Gus asked as he walked up.

“A shot of whiskey and any information you can give me on a varmint by the name of Texas Jack.” He told Gus.

“A shot of whiskey. Comin’ up Ranger, but I ain’t never heard of no Texas Jack.” Gus told him as he poured the drink.

“Thanks anyway and by the way, the sheriff told me to tell you the first one is on him.

“I see it’s good to have friends in high places.” Gus joked with him.

At the back of the bar, Bob lifted his head at the sound of the stranger's voice and the name Texas Jack. Bob, got up and walked up to the stranger.

“Howdy stranger, I'm Shotgun Bob Smith, the former owner of this here bar.”

“Nice bar Mr.Smith, I’m William “Big Bear” Walters, Texas Ranger and I’m lookin’ for an outlaw by the name of Texas Jack. Ever heard of him?

“Can't say that I have Ranger, ya know, you’re a mighty long ways from home.” Bob told him.

“I’ve been tracking him for some time now and the last I heard he was headed in this direction.” The Big Bear told him.

“Nope, no one in town by that name, But like the sheriff said this one’s on him. Drink up Ranger.” Bob told him as he laid his shotgun on the bar.

The Ranger took the drink, downed it and started to walk away. When he was about five feet from Bob he stopped whipping out his gun as he turned to find a shotgun pointed at him.

“Why don't you put that shooter on the bar and join me out back Ranger?”

The Ranger, seeing no other option, put his gun on the bar and walked with Bob out the back door. Once outback Bob turned to the Ranger.

“Now, I don't wanna have to kill ya Ranger, but I will if Ya force me. You can leave that shooter in the bar, we can say goodbye and you can leave town.” Bob told him. “Or you can meet me out front in ten minutes. Listen here, I know you got a job to do, but I've been off the trail for a lot of years and I ain't kilt no one since before I got here maybe ten, twelve years ago. What I'm trying to say is you can go back home alive and we can both live the rest of our lives carefree or you can meet me out front in ten minutes and go home dead. One way you ride home, the other you die in the streets of a little town no one’s ever heard of. It's a nice town and all, but hardly a place to die in.” Bob told him as he pointed for the Ranger to go back inside.

Once inside the Ranger turned to him and explained that he had a job to do and he wasn’t leaving town without him.

Bob nodded his head and told the Ranger to pick up his gun and walk away. He lowered his shotgun as the Ranger started to walk away. The Ranger watched as Bob walked out, he picked up his six shooter off the bar and took a seat at a table near the rear of the saloon.

The Ranger sat at a table for ten minutes thinking out what Bob had said, but knowing that he had to bring him in one way or another. The Ranger checked his pocket watch, downed his drink and stood up. He pulled his six gun from its holster and checked to make sure it was loaded and put it back. He looked around and then started for the front door of the saloon.

The Ranger slowly walked out and looked up and down the street. What he didn’t see was Bob sitting in his chair, leaning back, to the right of him.

“Lookin’ for me Ranger?” Bob asked as he looked up from under his hat.

Startled, the Ranger quickly turned, pulled his gun only to find Bob getting up from his chair with his shotgun aimed at him.

“I got a job to do. I gotta kill ya or take ya back Jack.” The Ranger told him again.

“Ya ain't takin’ me back Ranger!” Bob told him again.

As Bob stood up the Ranger saw the Colt on the hip of the man who normally carried a shotgun. Bob stepped forward and the two men walked to the center of the street. Once in the middle of the street they stopped and turned toward each other.

“You don't have to do this Ranger.” Bob told him again.

“Yes, I do, it’s my job, Jack. Say when!”

“It's not worth dying for Ranger.” Bob said as he let loose to rawhide strap from the trigger of his gun.

“Make your play Jack.” The Ranger called out.

“I have never drawn first on a man and I ain't startin’ now.”

“Then you're a dead man.” The Ranger told him and went for his gun.

The Ranger reached for his gun, but before he could clear his holster Jack had pulled, fired and slipped the gun back in the holster. The Ranger dropped to his knees and then fell face first into the dirt covered street dead before he hit the ground.

Bob walked up to the Ranger and shook his head, amazed at the fact that he hadn’t lost his quickness or agility and ability to shoot straight and hit his target.

Out of his office the sheriff came running at the sound of gunshots, his gun drawn and a look of disbelief on his face when he saw The Ranger laying face down in the street and Bob standing over him.

“What the hell, Bob? What the hell did you do?” The Sheriff asked as he ran up.

“The Ranger thought I was some outlaw and wanted to take me back to Texas, dead or alive. I tried to convince him he was wrong, that I wasn't this Texas Jack feller but he had his mind made up and I wasn't going anywhere.

“Bob, all you had to do was go with him and stand trial and you would have been set free. I would have come down for the trial and testified to your innocence.” The Sheriff told him.

Bob turned to the Sheriff and suggested that they go over to his office. The sheriff agreed and as the two men walked and over to the Sheriff’s office, the streets began to fill up with people coming to see what all the shooting was about. Bob and the sheriff walked in and shut the door. Once inside the Sheriff sat behind his desk and Bob took a seat in front of him.

“Bob, you've got me all confused. What's up? What's going on here?” The Sheriff asked.

“John, if I tell you this, you've got to promise me you won't tell a soul.” Bob asked him.

“What? Yeah, okay. Not a soul!” He promised.

“I couldn't go back because I am Texas Jack.” Bob told him.

“What?”

“I am Texas Jack! I am the outlaw he was looking for and if I went back with him they would have hung me for sure.”

“But I've known you for years. You've never killed anyone without a good reason.” The Sheriff said as he looked at Bob confused.

“I had a life before I got here. I was a gunslinger, a killer, but I was shot up pretty bad by some young kid lookin’ to make a name for himself and left for dead when Taylor found me and helped heal up. That's when I turned my life around.” Bob told him.

“Bob, you and I have been friends for a long time and I just can't hardly believe you were an outlaw but if you are telling the truth, then I understand why you had to do what you did.” The Sheriff told him as he sat forward in his chair.

The two men stood up, shook each other's hands agreeing to never speak of this again and then walked out together, Bob smiling, knowing his secret is safe.

Several of the town folks had gathered around and as the sheriff and Bob walked back to the dead Ranger, the Mayor walked up and asked the sheriff what was going on. The Sheriff explained to the Mayor what had happened.

“Bob, a killer? I don’t think so.” The mayor said as he turned to walk away. “All right folks let's settle down, it’s all over, the Ranger mistakenly took our Shotgun Bob for a killer.” The Mayor told them.

The crowd started to laugh.

“Shotgun Bob, a killer. That's a good one. Hahaha.”Billy, one of Mayor's sons, laughed.

“I wouldn't laugh too hard, Billy, there's a dead man laying in the street over there.” The Sheriff told him

“Oh yeah, but Bob, come on now. A killer. Come on now, really?” He laughed again.

You're right Billy, I got lucky.” Bob told him. “Maybe!!”

The crowd laughed and began to walk away. The idea that Bob, the old man who sits all day in front of the Saloon, was a killer was just ridiculous.

As the crowd moved away the sheriff had the doctor and a few other men carry the body of the Ranger away and as the days went by the shooting was forgotten, the sheriff had sent a telegraph to The Ranger Headquarters informing them of the death of one of their men and explaining that he was gunned down by a local cowboy out to make a name. He also told them the cowboy was killed by Ranger Walters and the case was put to rest.

Shotgun Bob went back to his daily routine with a renewed confidence in himself and sat in the walkway waiting for Billy and his brother. It took a couple of days for things to return to normal and then one afternoon Bob heard sound of the squeaky saloon door opening and as he sat in his chair, hat pulled over his eyes, the two young cowboys who had kicked out his chair so many times before we about to get the surprise of their young lives. Once again, Billy, the taller of the two stepped towards Bob and made a move to kick the chair again. Suddenly, Bob jumped up, cocked his shotgun, lowered it at the young man and smiled.

“Son, You might wanna think twice about kickin’ my chair again, I were you, I’d walk away now, cause I’d hate to splatter you and your brother’s guts all over town. I’d feel bad for a minute or two, like I did when I killed that Ranger but after a drink or two in your memory, I’d get on with my day and you’d be dead. Your choice son! Choose wisely. If I were you I’d run now. Ya little smartass shitholes.” Bob told him as the young Billy stood watching Bob.

“Come on Bob, we’re just having fun. No hard feelings. Honest!” Billy told him as he backed up and turned to walk away.

“Either one of you come into this saloon again and so help me God, I will blow your ass into tiny little bits. You get me boys?” Bob shouted as he shot off a blast from his shotgun into the air.

The brothers started to run away.

“I don’t think I’ll be hearing from them again.” Bob said with a smile and sat back down again. “Now, that’s what I call frontier justice.”

THE END!!!