he made his way through the towns and outposts of the early West.
The powerful youngster grew into a tough, seasoned gunman and made quite a name for himself in the rough and rowdy early frontier. After twenty years of hard living and violence, he decided to escape to his vineyard in central California. During his long journey through the hot Sonoran Desert, he stopped at Logan’s Crossing, a small mining town to stock up. To his surprise, he met up with his old friend Ed Morgan for the first time since their buffalo hunting days. The bond was still strong between Ed, a popular local miner, and the weathered gunman.
After dinner one evening, Ed made Jon an offer. With the support of the County Commission, he asked Jon to stay on as County Sheriff. The town felt Jon’s reputation as a gunman would come in handy when facing down the many unsavory characters in the desert town. Jon, short of ready cash, agreed to take the job on a short term basis. He asked Ed to be his deputy; Ed gladly accepted. Jon’s dream of going to his beautiful vineyard nestled in a lush valley near the Sierra Madre Mountains was put on hold.
Chapter 1
The cool winter breeze sent a chill down Pecos Street. Local residents scurried to get inside on this unusually cold day in Logan’s Crossing. Quiet conversation and laughter could be heard coming from inside the Barbee Saloon, a safe haven from the unexpectedly cool weather. Inside, Sheriff Jon Stoudenmire and a few of his closest friends enjoyed a game of five card stud.
“Are you going to make a play or just sit there and look at your cards all day?” big Jon needled his good friend, Ed Morgan. The aging gunman, now lawman, was on a roll and didn’t like being held up. His eyes squinted through the curling smoke from his Havana.
“Alright, alright, I call,” Ed replied. Three shiny silver dollars bounced on the table as the trusted deputy called the bet. “Just consider this another donation to our chief law enforcement officer here in Mesquite County,” he said sarcastically.
Jon gulped down a shot of whiskey and slammed the glass on the table. “I can’t think of a more worthy cause.” He tossed his hand on the table and pushed he cards apart.
“All black, queen high,” Jon announced as the spade flush became visible to the other players. They just shook their heads. It looked like another winner for big Jon.
“Well, you better get that fixed,” Ed said as he quickly laid down his hand. “Full up, Jacks and threes!” Ed snickered as he leaned forward to rake in the pot.
“There’s over two hundred dollars in that pot!” someone shouted.
“Yea, it’s a good one alright, but I still ain’t well by a long shot,” the smiling Ed replied.
“Quit complaining, you no account sidewinder!” Jon barked as he watched his friend drag in the biggest pot of the day. “You’re about the luckiest varmint I’ve ever seen!”
Ed just smiled as he carefully stacked the pot full of silver dollars.
“If I keep winning like this, I’ll be able to quit my deputy sheriff’s job and become a professional. Don’t you think so, Jon?”
“I wouldn’t make any rash decisions. I’ve seen people starving before and it ain’t a pretty sight.” Jon grinned as he carefully flicked his ashes in the small metal tray.
“Yea, yea, starving my foot,” the feisty Ed retorted not wanting Jon to get in the last word.
Just then a soft, gentle voice interrupted the two friendly combatants. Elizabeth Thompson, the beautiful owner of the Barbee, had just returned from a visit to the bank and was approaching the table. Once a renowned actress from New York City, for reasons unknown, she had moved west to open the Barbee a year earlier. When Jon arrived in town, the sparks flew almost immediately between the seductive actress, better known as Libby, and himself. They were soon a couple.
“My oh my, you boys are at it again. If I didn’t know better, I would actually think you didn’t like each other,” Libby said as she walked gracefully over and put her arm around Jon’s big muscular shoulders.
“You sure are a sight for sore eyes, Miss Libby,” Jon said. Smoke curled up as he punched out his cigar and laid it in the ashtray. He slid his arm around her tiny waist and gently pulled her a little closer. “How’s my girl?” Jon checked his hole card with his free hand, still waiting for his up card.
“Just fine, thank you honey.”
Libby looked stunning in her full length dark blue gown and white neck scarf. A gold earring dangled from each ear and a delicate gold necklace seemed to draw attention to her bare, well proportioned shoulders. Her long auburn hair was combed upward into a bun, adorned by a blue onyx hair pin. The delicate features of her beautiful face were lit up with a never ending smile. To all these men way out in the Sonoran Desert, she was indeed a sight for sore eyes.
“I’ll let you fellows finish your game, I’ve got plenty to do around here. And don’t forget Jon, you promised to take this girl to dinner tonight. So don’t lose it all,” Libby said flirtatiously.
Jon beamed at his lovely Elizabeth.
“Oh don’t worry Libby.” Camp Wilson, stable hand and part time deputy, jumped into the conversation. “If Jon goes bust, one of us would be happy to fill in. How about it, boys?” The other men smiled, there heads rapidly nodding in agreement.
“Now just hold on there,” Jon exclaimed loudly. “It’ll be a cold day in Hades before this lovely lady goes to dinner with one of you claim jumpers.”
“Claim jumper, is it? That’s it, put ‘em up Sheriff.” Young Camp jumped up, his fists rotated in front of him, challenging Jon to a mock fight. Everybody at the table joined into a spontaneous round of laughter, as the lawman put his hands up, palms forward in defeat; all the while grinning from ear to ear at his young friend’s antics.
The fun didn’t last long. Suddenly two shots rang out and screams could be heard coming from the street in front of the Barbee. The shots seemed to be coming from the area around the general store, caddy cornered from the saloon.
Jon jumped up instinctively; gathered his coins, stuffed them in his jeans.
“Excuse me Darlin’.” Jon tipped his hat to Miss Libby as he made a hasty exit out the door.
“Please be careful Jon,” Libby pleaded, as Jon rushed toward yet another possible shootout. Libby and the others were close behind.
This town sure is changing, Jon thought. The wooden step creaked as he stepped down off the boardwalk. Since the nearby Brockston silver mine busted open, it seemed like every conman, card shark, rustler, rounder, and gunslinger had decided to call Logan’s Crossing home. The now famous town had become a magnet for all sorts of bad actors. A new raucous saloon had recently opened down the street.
Jon’s heart raced as he charged across the dusty street toward the hardware store. As he got closer, he could see chubby storeowner Bill Webster looking down at the ground. A crowd quickly gathered; their faces told Jon that someone was badly hurt.
Jon’s eyes went to the ground; he saw the long slim body of his deputy, Jack Malone, lying on the street. Jon felt like he’d been punched hard in the gut. Jack’s white cotton shirt was stained red with blood.
Doc
