Justice Never Sleeps (The Texas Riders Western #12) (A Western Frontier Fiction)
JOSEPH
POWELL
justice never sleeps
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THE TEXAS RIDERS WESTERN
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A WESTERN FRONTIER FICTION
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Copyright Notice
Copyright © 2020 by Joseph Powell
All Rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic form or mechanical means without written permission from the author. The re-sale and distribution of this or any part therein of this work is a violation of U.S. and international copyright law.
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For more information about the author:
jpowellbooks@gmail.com
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Table of Contents
Copyright Notice
prologue
chapter 0 1 ✪
chapter 0 2 ✪
chapter 0 3 ✪
chapter 0 4 ✪
chapter 0 5 ✪
chapter 0 6 ✪
chapter 0 7 ✪
chapter 0 8 ✪
chapter 0 9 ✪
chapter 1 0 ✪
chapter 1 1 ✪
chapter 1 2 ✪
chapter 1 3 ✪
chapter 1 4 ✪
chapter 1 5 ✪
chapter 1 6 ✪
chapter 1 7 ✪
chapter 1 8 ✪
chapter 1 9 ✪
chapter 2 0 ✪
chapter 2 1 ✪
chapter 2 2 ✪
chapter 2 3 ✪
chapter 2 4 ✪
chapter 2 5 ✪
chapter 2 6 ✪
chapter 2 7 ✪
chapter 2 8 ✪
chapter 2 9 ✪
chapter 3 0 ✪
chapter 3 1 ✪
chapter 3 2 ✪
chapter 3 3 ✪
chapter 3 4 ✪
chapter 3 5 ✪
chapter 3 6 ✪
chapter 3 7 ✪
chapter 3 8 ✪
chapter 3 9 ✪
chapter 4 0 ✪
chapter 4 1 ✪
chapter 4 2 ✪
chapter 4 3 ✪
chapter 4 4 ✪
chapter 4 5 ✪
epilogue
A Note from the Author
Order of Books . Book Catalog
Copyright Notice and Publisher Notes
prologue
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Winter 1873, Clear Water, Texas
Gilbert Kramer walked into the Hungry Bear Diner and looked around. It was a small place with few tables and even fewer booths, but it was busy, especially for three in the afternoon.
Maybe that was just because Clear Water was such a small town that the choices here were few and far between, or maybe the food here was just that good. Gilbert decided he was hungry enough to find out before he and his men got down to business.
They’d been riding through dry, dusty prairie for days only to end up in this dry, dusty town. Gilbert had no intention of leaving without getting something for all of his troubles. He’d only been thinking of money, but now that he smelled the food cooking, he decided he’d take both.
Every table was full, but there was one empty booth at the back of the room. It wasn’t nearly big enough for all his men though. If they squeezed, they might get five or six of them in there at the most, but that would be pushing things.
He had twelve men to feed. This diner was gonna have to do better than a single booth. He signaled to Renny and Vic, who spit their tobacco into a pot then moved to the empty table and sat down. Lester and Paul stayed with him.
There was a booth beside the empty one with a man, woman, and their two kids sitting in it. The kids were small, maybe four or five, and barely counted as people at all. Between them, they didn’t even take up half the seat.
Gilbert stood there and stared at the man. Lester and Paul flanked him on either side. All three men had pistols strapped to their gun belts.
The man in the booth was nervous as he looked up, but he tried to sound brave in front of his wife and kids. “Can I help you gentlemen with something?”
Gilbert smiled. Gentlemen? That was funny. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had called any of them a gentleman. “My friends and I need this booth you’re sitting at. I’d like you to move.”
The man frowned then looked anxiously at his wife and kids. “I’m afraid we’re not done eating yet. But you can have this booth when we’re finished.” He turned back to his plate of food and went to lift his fork. Gilbert grabbed the fork away from him and threw it on the floor.
A waitress with red hair stepped up to him. “What do you think you’re doing? You can’t throw things around like that in here.” She was in her early twenties and beautiful, even if she had a slight Irish accent.
For now, Gilbert ignored her. Maybe later, he’d get back to her. “I said you’re done here. Now pay for your food and get out.” Gilbert glared at the man, who glared back at him.
“We’re not leaving until we’re finished.” He rolled his shoulders back, trying to be tough. Gilbert wasn’t fooled.
“Trust me when I tell you I’m doing you a favor here,” Gilbert said. “About thirty minutes from now, you’re gonna be glad I told you to go.”
The man’s glare softened and was replaced with fear. Gilbert could tell he’d been recognized. Took the guy long enough. “Oh, Mr. Kramer, sir. I’m sorry. Of course, the booth is yours.”
The man whispered something in his wife’s ear and rose up out of his seat. They quickly got their children up as well.
The redheaded waitress came over. Her face was one big scowl, but it was a pretty scowl. She set her hands on shapely hips, and her breasts heaved in and out as she drew in a breath. “Leave our customers alone and wait your turn, like everyone else.”
She looked at the father of two, who was urging his children away from the table. “You don’t have to go. He can’t bully you.”
The man looked at her. “It’s all right Bridget. Don’t you know who this is?”
She blinked, and her blank expression told Gilbert she had no idea.
The father shook his head. “We’re leaving. Let him have the booth.” He looked at Gilbert again. “Sorry again, Mr. Kramer, sir.” He threw some money at the waitress without counting it out and hustled his family out of there. It was probably the best decision of his life.
Gilbert motioned to the rest of his men to come and take the now empty table. It still wasn’t enough room for all twelve of them, but now people were watching, and more people were recognizing them. The next table Gilbert went up to did not need telling twice. They ran out of the diner as soon as Gilbert said hello.
Gilbert’s men sat down, spread across three tables now. He joined Renny and Vic. He’d known them the longest and preferred their company over the others.
The redheaded waitress, Bridget, came over to them, her hands still on her hips. “You can’t just push our customers out like that because you’re hungry.”
Renny looked her up and down. “Aren’t you the feisty one? And pretty.”
The woman blushed. “Look, we don’t want any trouble, but you can’t—”
“We don’t want any trouble either,” said Gilbert. “Just a good meal. Give us that, and we promise to go quietly when we’re through.” He wondered if she’d bought that.
The redhead opened her mouth to yell some more, but a slightly yo
unger redhead grabbed her arm. “Bridget, hush,” she said and pulled her quickly away. Sisters. Gilbert could have a lot of fun with the pair of them later.
Maybe after they’d finished their meals and robbed the place dry, he’d spare those two. He could take them with him, have his fun, and kill them later. Lord knew his men deserved a couple of warm, soft bodies to lie with, even if the women themselves wanted nothing to do with them.
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Bridget O’Hara glared at her sister in the kitchen of their diner. “What did you do that for? Those men can’t just be bullying our customers.”
Clara had been born in America, so when she spoke, it was without the accent Bridget had carried over to the country when she’d arrived here at five years old.
“Ssh!” Clara hissed, peeking through the door at the dining room. “Don’t you know who those men are?”
But Bridget had no idea what her sister was talking about. “Who?”
“That’s Gilbert Kramer and his gang.”
Now Bridget’s eyes drew together. She’d heard of the Kramer Gang. Gilbert Kramer was the most wanted man in the country.
He’d killed more people than every other outlaw put together, or so they said. She knew perfectly well that news agencies exaggerated things to sell more papers, but still, if even half of that was true, he was dangerous.
“Should I get the sheriff?” Bridget asked.
“Are you crazy? We don’t want a shootout here in the diner. Just get them their food and be done with it. I’ll help you.”
Bridget looked at her sister. “No, I’ll do it. You just get the other tables.”
Clara was young, only eighteen. It was the same age Bridget had been when she’d conceived her daughter, Shannon, out of wedlock. If she could go back in time five years and tell her younger self not to let her parents send her daughter away to be raised by her aunt and uncle, she would.
The problem with young girls was that they didn’t always think clearly and were easy prey for men. She’d learned that the hard way, and she didn’t want her sister anywhere near Gilbert or his gang. In fact, she didn’t want her little brother anywhere near them either. She looked around for Patrick. He was washing dishes in the kitchen.
“Stay back here for a while,” she told him.
He looked at her. “Why?”
“Just do as I say.”
Her parents looked over from the stove where they were cooking. “Something wrong?” her father asked.
She smiled and shook her head, not wanting to worry him. “No, nothing.” Her mother did not look so easily convinced, but Bridget hurried out of there before her mother could question her further.
Gilbert and his men gave their orders, and Bridget put them in. She asked her father to make them as fast as possible, even if it meant skipping the orders ahead of them.
“Why?” he asked, suspicious now as well.
Bridget hesitated, but Patrick gave up the secret. “I know, I peeked out at the dining room. Gilbert Kramer and his gang are out there.”
“Patrick!” Bridget said, snapping at her brother, but he was only twelve years old. She could not stay angry with him.
Her mother and father looked worried now. They stopped cooking and moved toward the heavy kitchen swing door. Bridget and Clara stopped them.
“Just let them finish their meals and they’ll go,” Clara said.
Bridget was glad Clara was backing her up on this.
“You should have told us,” her father said and returned to the stove. He started cooking their orders double time. Their mother helped him. Soon Gilbert and his men were all fed and their plates empty.
She hesitated about presenting them with the bill and finally decided it would be better not to even try. Her family would just have to be out of pocket, but at least they’d have their lives.
“It’s on the house today,” she said.
Gilbert smiled at her.
“Thank you, Miss...”
“O’Hara.” She did not want to tell him her real name, but she supposed he could find out easily enough if he wanted to.
He continued smiling as he stood up. She took a step back to move out of his way, but his hand shot out and wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. His men laughed as he tried to get a kiss from her.
“Stop it,” Bridget said, but he did not stop. His men laughed louder.
From the back of the room, Clara began to shout. “Leave her alone!”
Gilbert stopped struggling with Bridget long enough to look at his friends. “Get that one, too. We’ll take them both with us after we get their money.” He looked around the room and shouted loud enough for all the customers to hear. “Empty your pockets and set your money on your table.”
Bridget’s heart began to race. Instead of emptying their pockets, several of the male customers in the room stood up now, objecting as Gilbert and his men tried to push Bridget and Clara out of the diner.
“Leave those girls alone!”
“Get out of here or I’ll get the sheriff!”
Gilbert looked at them. “Give us your money, and we’ll leave you with your lives.”
The men hesitated, but one of the tougher-looking male customers rolled his shoulders back. “We don’t care who you are, we’re not gonna let you take those women!”
For one second, Bridget thought the man’s objections had worked. Gilbert actually let go of her, but then he pulled out his gun and shot the man in the chest. The man fell down, and chaos erupted around them.
Women and children began to scream and cry, and a few of the men tried to rush Gilbert in an attempt to get his gun from him. They failed.
Gilbert shot a man twice in the face as he reached for Gilbert’s gun. Bridget’s parents came running out with Patrick just behind them. Bridget tried to shout a warning, but there was too much noise now. People were rushing for the door.
Gilbert shot her father first. The bullet entered his chest and soaked his shirt red. Their mother tried to help him, and Gilbert shot her next. This time, the bullet struck her head, and Bridget watched as her mother’s brains flew out the back of her skull and splattered on the wall behind her.
Clara screamed and tried to grab Patrick, who was standing there numb. Clara covered Patrick with her body, but that only resulted in her getting shot in the back. She fell down, and the bullet that followed went right into the center of Patrick’s neck.
He covered the wound with his hand, trying to stop the blood, and another bullet got him in the chest. His lifeless body landed on top of Clara’s.
Gilbert yelled at his men. “I said to leave the redhead.” He shook his head and reached for Bridget, but she pushed him back as hard as she could and grabbed the fork off his empty plate. She stabbed him in the arm with it and he dropped his gun. Bridget ran before he could pick it up again.
His men were busy putting bullets into everyone who moved. One of them turned his gun on her, but a child of six ran in front of her at just the wrong moment and took the bullet intended for her. Bridget was horrified and tried to catch the child as she fell. The bullet had entered her right eye though, and both her eye and her life were gone.
Bridget dropped the child and ran as a second bullet whizzed past her ear. There was no chance of getting out the front way, his men were blocking the doors, but she made it to the kitchen and out the back.
Bridget was exhausted and terrified and already out of breath, but she did not stop running until her knees buckled and her whole body collapsed. By then, she had no idea where she was. All she knew was that she would never feel safe again.
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chapter 0 1 ✪
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Blackgate, Texas
A few months later...
Sebastian Maddox looked out over the ranchland he owned and frowned. It was pretty Texas land, especially with the sun painting the sky pinks and purples as it set over the hills. But none of it held much interest for him anymore, not since Hannah’s death.
>
His sister had been shot and killed months ago. Sebastian had gotten the men who did it, but that didn’t help him when the nights fell dark and the land grew silent. He’d raised Hannah up from the time he was sixteen and she was eight, and not having her here hurt him bad. For the hundredth time today, he thought about selling his land and starting over fresh, somewhere far away from here.
He got on his favorite horse, a Palomino he called Pony even though it was the size of a house, and rode across the land counting up cattle and making sure none were missing. He had at least one cow that would be birthing soon, and he wanted to make sure nothing went wrong when the time came.
In the near distance, he spotted Little Johnny Baldwin cutting across his land. Everyone called him Little Johnny because he was only twelve, but the boy was even bigger than Pony.
Little Johnny lived close by with his father, Big John, and was used to cutting through Sebastian’s land on his way back and forth to town. He looked up when he heard Sebastian ride toward him.
“Hiya, Blaze.”
Sebastian cringed. No one called him that anymore. As far as he was concerned, the gunfighter known as “Blaze” Maddox had been put to rest eight years ago on his twentieth birthday. Little Johnny must have caught the expression on Sebastian’s face because he immediately apologized.
“Sorry, Mr. Maddox, sir.”
“Sebastian’s just fine.” He didn’t need formalities from Johnny. Things like “sir” were reserved for better, wiser people than him.
Little Johnny’s cheeks turned pink. “I hope you don’t mind me cutting through.”
No matter how many times Sebastian told Little Johnny it was fine, the boy always looked as though he’d been caught with his hand in the cash register.
“I don’t mind,” Sebastian said. “How’s your pa?”
“Fine. Still getting over that cold. I went and got him some tinctures from the apothecary that ought to fix him up. Ran into Old Man Wylde down there. Did you know he’s selling his place? Says he wants to go somewhere warm, as if Texas ain’t warm enough.”
Little Johnny shook his head as sweat ran down his cheek. Texas summers were pretty harsh.
“Mr. Wylde’s selling his land?” Sebastian hadn’t heard that, but then he didn’t get to town too often. Mr. Wylde’s ranchland was wider and bigger than Sebastian’s and just next door. The edges of their property actually touched.