La Cresta de las Sandias

By Olin Thompson

Jim Rayburn was the Texas Ranger assigned to the bad lands of west Texas from down by Alpine up past Mr. Lubbock's range. His wife was killed by a complete bad boy named Billy Blue Eyes. The gun fight in the middle of town was what Jim hoped it would be. He'd gotten through a year or more of drunk trying to forget the loss, but hadn't. Billy Blue Eye's death would be the only thing to save Jim. Billy and his gang lost the gun battle. Jim moved on to New Mexico and took the job as local Marshal for a small town. He had to solve a murder and when he did he ran up against the local wealthy land owner and a cut throat band of hands who would kill just for the reward the man offered. Jim had to battle the land owner and save the wife and daughter of the dead man at the same time. He lived up to his reputation, man of law. There was no quit in him. He lived the law of the west and made it work. Jim Rayburn, Texas Ranger and Town Marshal. A real western hero.
* * * *
This book has all the appeal a western can have for the avid old west reader. In the shadow of great writers, Olin has come up with another to follow his series of the Egan and Deans. He's made his mark as a fine wordsmith and these events about which he wrote are as real as if they had actually happened.
— Sam Warren, publisher

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sam Warren
• Release date: Jun 27, 2011
• ISBN: 9780945949527

Book preview

\

La Cresta de las Sandias

Olin Thompson

SMASHWORDS EDITION

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Copyright © 2008 by Olin Thompson

This eBook was produced in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopied, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

ISBN: 978-0-945949-52-7

Published by:

BOOKWARREN PUBLISHING SERVICES

339 Eighth Ave., Studio 1

San Diego, CA 92103

mailto:[e-mail]

Website: http://www.bookwarren.com

PROLOGUE

The governor of Texas in 1868, Eli Pease, organized a force of lawmen who would answer only to the governor for law and order in the state.

The Texas Rangers.

The governor directed they would be independent of the local authorities and clear of suspicion of influence. Because so many locally powerful people violated the rights of minorities and swindled returning veterans out of their lands, the Rangers were required to keep inbred dishonor and crime from overwhelming the state.

* * * *

Jim Rayburn volunteered, again, as he had during the War Between the States when he stepped forward, believing what he thought was a wrong needed to be righted. Now, as a Texas Ranger, young and eager, he was given a position in Monterrey, a small community in the southern panhandle of Texas and worked closely with Mr. Lubbock, the most powerful man in west Texas. Jim thought, because they were strong and fair, the Rangers would keep crime from the homes and ranches, even spread as thin as the lawmen were. The territory Jim was responsible for ran from the Oklahoma Territory Panhandle – the notorious Cherokee Strip which ran down the New Mexico border, east to a line from the Panhandle again – a huge territory of nearly four million acres of land to cover for a man only in his early twenties. But, he was happy and the work wasn't all that hard, even though Jim Rayburn saw very few people.

Chapter 1

One day it happened. Daggum, he said.

The woman Jim Rayburn met made a change in his life, because he loved her when he first saw the black haired, brown eyed beauty.

Rayburn had been chasing a bad man through the rough country when he stopped at the small scrub ranch to water his horse and buy some grub. The rancher was worn like an old rope, thin as a dehydrated cactus, Jim said to himself. He found the man's wife was ill; Jim figured when he saw the distress it was probably cholera.

The woman taking care of the rancher's wife, Jim found, was named Louisa Rangel. Jim talked with her, quietly, outside when she stepped from the inferno hot interior of the small cabin. She told him her father had another scrub ranch south of the Colorado River and north of the Sulphur Springs River.

She was dressed in loose fitting gingham worn thin by numberless washings; on her feet she wore soft moccasins, clearly for comfort. Her hair was pulled back hard and braided, almost Indian fashion; he considered it black as the wing of the raven and almost said so. But all he could think was she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Jim stayed long enough to fall in love with Louisa. It didn't take him but a moment. She was too busy for him; but, the lawman kept coming back, even after he caught the stage robber, returned him to the county seat, and sat with him during the trial which sent the villain off to prison in East Texas. The trial, a showcase, brought people from all parts of west Texas, and they heard Rayburn, a tenacious and active lawman, prosecute the bad man.

This here's a capitol case, Jim told the Judge. Hangin' won't be good enough. Jim described the man's operation and brought the witnesses. In a voice full of authority and strength Jim Rayburn related how the man had done his bad deeds to the community. Jim pounded the table, pointed to the man with a quivering finger full of anger, and said finally, Texas rests its case, your honor.

The defense stood and made lame excuses for the man some called Billy Blue Eyes, saying he'd been somewhere else at the time without offering witnesses and in the face of evidence to the contrary.

The jury took all of five minutes, but at the end the judge said without any perfunctory remarks, Guilty as hell. You sonofabitch you gonna die.

The jury hadn't even said the man was guilty. Several of them just slumped in their seats, probably disappointed they hadn't had their say.

Jim knew he'd done a good job. The man wasn't hung, but his life in prison was just as bad as if he'd gone to hell; the man surely wished he'd died.

But, before he was led away, Billy Blue Eyes vowed when he got out of jail he'd even the score with Jim Rayburn; though the Ranger didn't take the man seriously, he did not take unusual risks. He never had and he didn't think he ought to start now. But, in the back of his mind, well, there was the thought....

[

Louisa didn't pay any more attention to Jim after the trial than she did before, even though he went back to the ranch again and again under all manner of excuse. He sought her hand, but she rejected him. He wasn't devastated; he merely kept after her. She finally realized her only out was to marry the man she called her poor star packin' Texan and be done with him pestering her.

Finally the rancher she had taken care of for a year died and she returned to her father's ranch to live.

Her star packer showed up at the sun-burned wood slatted ranch house late one afternoon, hot, thirsty, and tired from a long chase of another man; this one had merely robbed a settler and his family. Jim Rayburn had taken a short cut across the badlands to reach the nearby town and when the man entered Jim had arrested Concho Snidley without a fight.

Concho had been so tired, dehydrated, and hungry after his flight he merely raised his hands to his shoulders and told Rayburn, I give.

[

Jim, Louisa acknowledged softly as she held a bucket and a ladle of cold well water at her side.

Louisa, Jim said from his horse, he leaned forward on the pommel, took off his hat and wiped his forehead and the brim with a dirty red kerchief.

Step down?

Thanks, he said hoarse from thirst. Drink?

Cold and long, he smiled.

She handed the enameled ladle full of well water, he gulped it, and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. She set the wooden wellbucket on the ground. It was filled half full with more water. Jim helped himself to another scoop.

Take off the pants and I'll mend them. Shirt too.

Thanks, he smiled and stepped to the shade of the outbuilding to undress.

Louisa stood on the other side of the wall and caught his garments as he threw them over the boards to her. He sat on a galvanized pail to wait. He rubbed his chin and cheeks and felt the raw stubble of too long without a shave. He'd take care of that after he took a bath.

I got more in town, he said, a smile in his voice. Guess I'll have to move to town to mend all them. Guess, was all he said.

All right, Jim. All right, I'll marry you, Louisa said finally.

Weee Haaa! Jim let out a Rebel yell which carried up the canyons and through the brush; it probably scared coyotes and varmints out of their sleep. But he stayed with the galvanized bucket behind the outbuilding out of his sense of decency.

Jim! Louisa whispered harshly. Behave yourself. You gotta ask my father.

[

Jim did. Her father agreed and said he was glad she'd finally come to her senses. And in the tiny town they had a small wedding officiated over by the local version of a Judge.

The newlyweds settled near her father's ranch. The house was built half soddy and half adobe. It was cool in the summer and warm in winter. Inside, the room was built with adobe from ceiling to floor for better insulation. Jim was, even he discovered, a craftsman.

Louisa found he was special, talented, tender, and they made two children in short order.

[

There were more stray cows than people in west Texas, but the occasional lawless breed would pass through his territory and a telegram from Austin would advise Jim to catch these bad men. Rayburn didn't have a hard time with that either as he did his job well.

He had to leave some to travel to Austin for lawman training while Louisa remained behind to run the business of the ranch and care for their small ones: Jim Jr. and Eduardo – named for Louisa's father. Jim didn't like it much, but there was little he could do about it. The lawin' paid the bills and the ranch built the future, as the wise Louisa told him.

Rayburn was respected, well known, and destined for good things.

[

He came back from Austin and a lawman's meeting to find his wife was killed by a roving band of outlaws, apparently with nothing better to do than rape and pillage. The children, Jim Jr. was five and Eduardo was three, were also done in by one of the boys in the gang; it looked like he enjoyed his work; Comancheros were like that, Rayburn thought, and he turned vicious at that moment.

There was a message scrawled in nearly literate words, WE STILL AINT EVEN RANGER. They burned the part of his house which would and printed those words with the charred end of a stick.

He cried small tears after he'd gotten over his rage.

Jim's guts went dry when he would think about the deaths of his love and the two best kids he ever knew. He thought the man Billy Blue Eyes was still in prison, but the villain must have escaped or been let out early.

Damn! It was all Jim could say through his tears. Damn! Over and over again he cursed as he dug the graves, shovel full after shovel full of dirt piled beside the hole in the barren soil.

Jim hated now, for the first time and he made that hate a part of his life. He followed and killed each one of the Commanchero bandits with pleasure; of course the men resisted. Except he couldn't find the leader of the gang, Billy Blue Eyes.

One of the killers of his children had been trapped in a culvert under an outfall from a small stream. Jim didn't try to storm the hole even though it would have taken but a few hours, maybe even minutes to capture the man with a frontal assault.

Jim Rayburn waited, and starved the man for a week. The bad man only had water, and obviously not enough of that. Jim sat with his canteen, cooked coffee at night, gnawed on some of the leg of beef he'd smoked at the ranch, and toward the last ate beans and jerky.

The villain finally cried out in a helpless scream, I'm coming, law dog, I'm coming to kill you!

Jim walked carefully forward, waited until the man appeared shooting first, and Jim shot him with a bullet which was aimed for the outlaw's heart. Jim Rayburn missed, however. The bullet hit the tobacco pouch and the man took seconds to die instead of instantly.

Jim smiled, but it was an empty one. His life was already cut out. He still hadn't found Billy Blue Eyes. He honestly reported himself as judge, jury, and executioner, but was exonerated by a split decision of a court of inquiry led by Texas Ranger Captain Sul Ross. Ross voted Jim Rayburn's action as necessary for the safety and good order of the community.

Jim became hollow eyed and menacing. He was now feared for his hatred more than for his law work. Even peaceful people were anxious when Jim Rayburn appeared, frowning and glowering like a madman.

His wife dead, Jim was a shell of his former life and told some close friends he had no life to live. He plunged headlong into the most dangerous and desperate adventures.

If he 'uz kilt it wouldn't matter none to him, he heard someone say behind him in a courtroom where he'd brought a bad man to trial. Jim was very nearly out of control, one report to the governor read. The desperadoes knew it and steered clear of the west Texas range of Jim Rayburn.

Sul Ross tried to cover Jim's tracks and did a good job of it while Jim gathered in the bad ones left and right.

The experiment with independent lawmen lasted a whole year after Jim Rayburn had gone berserk. The Governor ordered Rayburn sent to the law school at Austin.

Maybe that'll settle him down, the Governor said to Sul Ross as Pease handed back the order for the school.

Meebbe so, meebbe no, Ross said simply with a shrug. Ross repeated the governor's admonition to Rayburn as a warning rather than a threat.

[

The Federals put on the lawman’s school and they presented advice on how to handle criminals. But, they gave the recommendations based on their limited experience in the civilized East, as they called it, and not from a Western background. Jim did a good job by making the two fit, Western savvy and Eastern know how. But to the east, where Jim never rode, and to a large extent in the rest of the state the Rangers complained widely the social test was a miserable failure.

Jim had no job in 1873. He quit. He applied as a Deputy Sheriff at San Antonio and was assistant Sheriff to the hot gun there. The other deputies taught him about real law and order.

One deputy advised Jim, Shoot first and worry about who did what later.

And Jim Rayburn still led charges against holed up outlaws and faced too many guns alone. Jim learned about quick guns and he found out about fast women. He learned to keep his leather oiled and his powder dry. He learned the difference between crime and stupid people while he stayed in San Antonio.

A Mexican of prominence asked Jim to dinner.

We would like you to serve with a little private army which is going south to help some impoverished juaristas in their survival against a prosperous army of a local bandito. There is little money, the man said with a down turned eye and apology on his face.

I never seen much money but what it came from too many evil places and I didn't like that very much, Jim said with a sullen snarl and took a long drink from the glass of red wine the man poured.

Jim thought, after accepting the offer, Maybe I'll be killed in Mexico. I don't really care all that much no how.

The battles lead to the forty three men recruited being summoned to Mexico City where Juarez himself bestowed on them the title of Protegidos. They would be honored in dance and song throughout northern Mexico. They were heroes of the people, it was said after the battles. Jim was given a Captaincy and led a group of fifteen Americans and fifteen Mexicans who fought off murderous bands of rapacious and savage outlaws who thought they could plunder the country for their own ends under a revolutionary flag.

Rayburn was again honored with the highest acclaim a foreigner can receive in Mexico, the Medal of Hero. He received it from the hands of Juarez himself on New Year's Eve 1873.

Jim Rayburn thought he might have won it in death, but the four bullets in his body didn't kill him. He stood straight even though there was one slug which still in him caused pain in his leg.

Ten years later and other wars with small bands and large, Rayburn was firmly established, once again, as the Texas Ranger in west Texas where Sul Ross, the new Ranger Chief, had actively recruited Jim; Rayburn had given in to the pleas of the governor to return to the honorable band of lawmen. 1878 was a good year for Jim Rayburn. He turned 28 years old and though he still had bad dreams he had come to grips with his feelings and decided he was in control.

Rayburn continued his Ranger job to fight off the bad guys and he captured, jailed, and even killed when necessary, without remorse, those who hurt the innocent. He made west Texas safe for civilized folk until, he thought, the bad men got out of jail.

The years wore hard on Rayburn. He made his way through the Rangers and promoted, again, to Captain. He led the men in their capture of the worst of the criminals and he was honored, again, for his actions.

He had bullet holes and scars from fights and conflicts with all manner of evil men. He fought with fist as fast as with gun. Few men bested Jim Rayburn.

Jim didn't stay with the Rangers, however, after he was wounded in a gun battle with a band of Comancheros and their vicious warriors. His men had won, but Jim was not expected to live. He had a chest wound, a leg wound, and an arrow had pierced his arm which Jim figured had to be pulled through since he couldn't break the shaft; so, he merely pulled the fletch through by himself.

He resigned to recover since he didn't think it fair to the Rangers to stay and recover.

It takes away from the strength of the unit to have one man sitting around doing nothing for more than a year, he told the governor who came to Jim's sickbed in Sandy, the little town forty miles south of Mr. Lubbock's huge ranch. The governor hoped to reason with Jim.

Boy, we need you, the governor said.

Maybe after I get better, Jim said and let the matter rest there.

When he crawled out of his sick bed he'd ridden even further west and one day he walked his horse down the center of El Paso and met a man he remembered from some distant warfare. And other one. The one who should have been in jail for twenty five years and got out in five was there. It was the murderer of Jim's wife and children.

Jim was darker, leathery skinned, and when he last looked, he seemed forty instead of yet to be thirty. His clothing was long past good condition and his boot had a hole in the sole. He felt a pebble beneath his feet, but ignored it just now. His hat had been sodden in recent downpours and dried to a hard crusty firmness. He reached up slowly and tugged at it to be sure it was on tightly.

All of the men stood still for a moment, like dogs testing the air, the territory, and the enemy. Rayburn dismounted very slowly and deliberately. He slipped the thong off the hammer of the Peacemaker and called the man for whom he searched to come to the street. The squint-eyed terrorist turned to his fellows at his side and stepped off the weather worn steps from the board walk along the front of the stores along the main street. They began to taunt Jim with words and sneers, but he kept his stare on Billy Blue Eyes.

Billy smiled and kept swinging his arm. But, Jim stood unmoving; his arm was still stiff from the arrow wound, but he'd been working with it to soften the scar tissue and had enough of his fast hand left. He stood motionless and studied the group.

He didn't know them well. There were no old gunfighters among them. Jim figured they'd be fast. Probably very fast, and a little off too. I'll do Billy first and then the others, he decided.

Billy Blue Eyes finally seemed to get tired of the game. Ranger. You ain't in your territory. Why don'tcha leave. We'll let you go alive. But you ever show up again, we'll kill you on sight. Your wife was nice to us before she died, Billy Blue Eyes taunted Jim and laughed uproariously. You musta got our message. Billy laughed again, so hard the tears began to squeeze from his bitter snake-like eyes.

Jim stood quietly. His eyes never wavered. He was so filled with hatred he didn't blink as he might miss that slight twitch which indicated the other man drew. But, Jim wasn't going to be drawn into the battle on Billy Blue Eyes terms.

Draw, you coyote shit! Draw! Billy screamed. Then we'll be even, he called.

Jim didn't say anything; he just stood still.

Billy Blue Eyes, the halfbreed Comanchero leader from the Perdinales clearly meant to spread his men wide with a fast wave of his hand. The four men began to take a step.

Jim spoke quietly, One more step and you die, Billy Blue Eyes, woman killer, little kid killer. You coward. You aren't man enough to walk in a real man's dust.

And Billy couldn't stand the taunt. He tried the old ruse worn out long ago when he flipped a cigarette butt at the Ranger hoping to distract him; Billy Blue Eyes yanked at his shiny bright chrome plated pistol with the mother of pearl handles.

So Jim Rayburn killed him. The bullet took the blue eyed bad boy in the tag on his tobacco pouch, a favorite target as Jim came to use it often.

Jim turned, thumbed back the hammer once more on the .45 caliber Cavalry Peacemaker most fast-guns preferred and took out the man to the left. The other three had drawn and were shooting. One bullet knocked a hole in Jim's discolored once black Stetson hat, the third man died without a face as the huge bullet went high, Jim grimaced as he realized he'd missed his aim. The two remaining had fired wildly, and clearly panicked, had turned and ran down an alley just as one last man died in the street. The pair hit the back road with their boots pounding the hard packed dirt and they could be heard a block away by the quiet witnesses.

Rayburn stabbed the hot Colt back in the formed leather holster, thumbed the thong over the hammer, and wiped the blood from his face where the hair was skinned off under his crusty sweat stained old Stetson. He toed Billy Blue Eyes over and smiled at him. He stomped on and twisted the smoldering cigarette butt into the dusty street.

Yep, Billy, we're even now, Jim said softly and a smile crossed his face as relief and tension left him, but he wished one last time the death had come more slowly and painfully. However, he said to himself, this isn't all bad.

The Marshal came down the steps from the saloon to ask him how this played.

Jim Rayburn, he said introducing himself.

Oh, hello, Captain. Remember me? Paul Dobson. I was with you at Austin.

Oh, yeah, hello Paul, Jim replied and looked up. They shook hands. Jim still quivered, and he gripped Paul's hand to keep the shaking from showing too much.

I'm sorry to mess up your street. But, this is Billy Blue Eyes. Jim gave a grim smile. He killed my wife. And kids. You'll have WANTED paper on him. Maybe even a bounty. Keep it.

Damn!

Yep, Jim said and walked toward the saloon for a beer. Boys, Paul Dobson nodded to several men, this here's Billy Blue Eyes. Take him up the hill and bury him. Nothin' special, just bury him. Got any money on him bring it to the office.

The men gathered the trio of dead and tossed them in the back of a large Brown Trade Wagon and creakily ground their way up the rise behind the city to Boot Hill.

Stayin' with us Jim? Paul asked as he caught up with Jim in the Golden Door Saloon.

Two women crowded close, one pushed a handsome bosom against Rayburn's arm; though he couldn't ignore it completely he didn't react. She didn't seem to give up as the other working girl touched his back with fingernails. They were, he thought at first, good looking women; but, on second glance they were tawdry and cheap. The first one's face was coated with heavy powder and paste which cracked and in one place peeled.

Donno if I wanna, Jim muttered softly, checking his skinned skull to see if it still bled. It did and the big bosomed woman dipped a perfumed handkerchief in his beer and wiped away the leakage. It seemed to sop up most of the blood.

How you been?

Bad hurt, Jim said and pushed the beer away and with it the woman. He turned to the other and said, Not now honey.

How did that happen? the county Marshal asked.

Was easy. They had a hunert and we had about twenty. Gee, Jim, that's bad.

Yeah, they needed two hunert the way they fought. We killed more'n half of them. I was hurt perty bad. Just about gettin' over it.

Billy Blue Eyes one of 'em?

No, Jim said slowly and soberly. He killed my wife and kids over to Abilene. That was enough reason for him to die.

Bad. Plumb bad, Dobson said shaking his head and looking thoughtful.