Ralph Compton Texas Hills (A Ralph Compton Western) - Softcover

Robbins, David; Compton, Ralph

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0451473205 ISBN 13: 9780451473202

Verlag: Berkley, 2015

Inhaltsangabe

A family man takes embarks on a dangerous endeavor in this gripping Ralph Compton western.

Owen Burnett’s needs are small. All he’s ever wanted is his wife’s affection, his children’s health, and a little plot of land which he can farm. Still, he’s no fool. So when his neighbor Gareth Kurst makes him a business proposition, one that could leave him richer than he’s ever dreamed, he can’t refuse giving the risky scheme a try.

Rounding up cattle up in the Texas Hill Country is nothing to take on lightly. Between the Comanches roaming the countryside and the horns of the beasts he’s hunting down, Owen knows every second he spends out in the wild puts his life in plenty of danger. But the greatest threat to his person is one he never expected—his ruthless and conniving business partner, who has no plans of ever sharing his hard-earned cash....

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Ralph Compton stood six-foot-eight without his boots. He worked as a musician, a radio announcer, a songwriter, and a newspaper columnist. His first novel, The Goodnight Trail, was a finalist for the Western Writers of America Medicine Pipe Bearer Award for best debut novel. He was also the author of the Sundown Rider series and the Border Empire series.

David Robbins has been a writer for more than twenty-five years, publishing under a variety of pseudonyms. He is the author of Badlanders and has written more than a dozen successful titles in the Ralph Compton series.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

 

“Ma!” Mandy whispered. “Look!” And she pointed.

THE IMMORTAL COWBOY

This is respectfully dedicated to the “American Cowboy.” His was the saga sparked by the turmoil that followed the Civil War, and the passing of more than a century has by no means diminished the flame.

True, the old days and the old ways are but treasured memories, and the old trails have grown dim with the ravages of time, but the spirit of the cowboy lives on.

In my travels—to Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Nebraska, Colorado, Wyoming, New Mexico, and Arizona—I always find something that reminds me of the Old West. While I am walking these plains and mountains for the first time, there is this feeling that a part of me is eternal, that I have known these old trails before. I believe it is the undying spirit of the frontier calling me, through the mind’s eye, to step back into time. What is the appeal of the Old West of the American frontier?

It has been epitomized by some as the dark and bloody period in American history. Its heroes—Crockett, Bowie, Hickok, Earp—have been reviled and criticized. Yet the Old West lives on, larger than life.

It has become a symbol of freedom, when there was always another mountain to climb and another river to cross; when a dispute between two men was settled not with expensive lawyers, but with fists, knives, or guns. Barbaric? Maybe. But some things never change. When the cowboy rode into the pages of American history, he left behind a legacy that lives within the hearts of us all.

—Ralph Compton

Chapter 1

A beanpole with hair the color of ripe corn ambled into the Crooked Wheel Saloon in Kerrville early on Saturday night. His high-crowned hat, his clothes, and his jangling spurs told everyone what he did for a living. Cowhands were as common as horses in some parts of Texas.

Smiling, the stranger jangled to the bar, paid for a drink, and brought it over to the table where Owen Burnett, Gareth Kurst, and Jasper Weaver were playing poker. Once every month or so, the three settlers came down out of the hill country to indulge in a few drinks and a sociable game of cards.

Owen Burnett came up with the idea. He’d thought it would be nice to get better acquainted. They were neighbors, after all. So what if they lived ten miles apart, or more? In the West, “neighbors” didn’t mean the same thing it did back east.

Owen was from Kentucky. He wasn’t all that big, but he was solid. He had short, sandy hair, a rugged complexion, and pale blue eyes. When the cowboy came to their table and asked if he could sit in, Owen smiled and gestured at an empty chair. “Help yourself, mister.”

Jasper Weaver grinned like a cat about to pounce on a sparrow. “If you won’t mind us taking your money,” he remarked. Which was a funny thing for Jasper to say given that he was the poorest card player west of the Mississippi River. Everyone thereabouts knew it. So did he, but Jasper never let it discourage him from playing. He was lean and gangly, with a face like a ferret’s and a neck like a buzzard’s. His brown hair stuck out from under his hat like so many porcupine quills.

Gareth Kurst grunted and eyed the cowboy with suspicion. He and most of his sons had the same features: black hair, blunt jaws, and eyes like shiny pieces of coal. “Why’d you pick our table, boy?”

About to set his drink down, the cowboy scowled. “First off, I’m not no infant. I’m eighteen, I’ll have you know. And second, you three looked friendly, although I might have been wrong about that.”

“We’re friendly,” Owen said.

“Speak for yourself,” Gareth said. “I never trust anybody until they prove they deserve it.”

“It’s not as if I’m out to rob you,” the cowboy said.

“You couldn’t if you tried,” Gareth said. “I give a holler, and three of my brood will be on you like hawks on a prairie dog.” He nodded at three of his sons over at the bar.

“What’s all this talk of robbing?” Jasper said. “We’re here to play cards.”

“Me, too,” the cowboy said. He took a sip and sighed with contentment. “They call me Shoe, by the way.”

“Peculiar handle,” Jasper said.

“Not really,” Shoe said. “I got hit by a horseshoe back when I was a sprout, and everyone took to calling me Horseshoe. Later that became just Shoe.”

“I should reckon you’d want to use your real name,” Jasper said.

“My folks named me Abimelech Ezekiel Moses. All three are from the Bible.”

“Maybe not, then,” Jasper said.

“Are we here to jabber or play?” Gareth Kurst said.

“You’re awful cantankerous tonight,” Owen said. He was in the process of shuffling the deck. “We’ll deal you in, Shoe. Jacks or better to open. The limit is ten cents.”

“That much, huh?” Shoe said.

“Ain’t none of us rich,” Jasper said.

Taking another swallow, Shoe offhandedly said, “You could be if you wanted to bad enough. Most anyone can these days.”

Jasper chuckled. “How does that work, exactly? We wish for money and it falls into our laps?”

Gareth uttered a rare laugh.

Pushing his hat back on his head, Shoe said, “Any of you gents know where to find longhorns?”

Owen nodded. “The hill country is crawling with them.” It was a rare day when he didn’t spot some off in the brush as he went about turning his homestead into what he hoped would become a prosperous farm.

“There you go,” Shoe said.

“You’re talking nonsense,” Gareth said.

Shoe looked at each of them. “You haven’t heard, then? How valuable they’ve become?”

“Longhorns?” Jasper said, and cackled.

Owen couldn’t help joining in. The notion was plumb ridiculous. Longhorns had been around since the days when Texas belonged to Spain. Left on their own in the wild, they’d bred like rabbits. To a lot of people, they were a nuisance more than anything. They were good to eat but not much else.

“We don’t like being ribbed,” Gareth said.

“Ribbed, hell,” Shoe said indignantly. “You’re behind the times. Cattle drives will be the next big thing. Everybody thinks so.”

Owen thought he knew what Shoe meant. “You mean those gents who took some longhorns up to Missouri to sell?”

“And now can’t anymore because the folks in Missouri are worried about diseases the longhorns might carry,” Jasper said.

“That’s a lot of trouble to go to for nothing,” Gareth said.

Jasper bobbed his chin. “Rounding up a bunch of contrary longhorns can’t be easy. And for what? Four dollars a head, if that?”

Shoe sat back. “Shows how much you know. How about if you sold them for ten times that much?”

“Forty dollars a head?” Jasper said in astonishment.

“That’s right,” Shoe said. “And not in Missouri, either. You’d take them to Kansas. The people back east are so beef-hungry, they’ll pay anything to have steak on their table.”

“You’re making this up,” Gareth said.

“As God is my witness,” Shoe said. “I left the ranch where I’ve been working to sign up with an outfit planning a drive.” He chuckled. “I...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Berkley
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2015
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0451473205
• ISBN 13: 9780451473202
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 304
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Nicht verfügbar