The Kansas Kid Rides Again

By John R. Rose

The sequel to Alias, The Kansas Kid ... The Kansas Kid is back in the saddle, hunting for a new “Kansas Kid” — The Oklahoma Kid — some tin-horn trading off his notorious reputation. Everybody’s gotta grow up some time, and when The Kid meets up with his would-be successor, the knock-off is going to grow up quick. They say let sleeping dogs lie ... and leave the Kansas Kid to enjoy his retirement ...

This new western page-turner sports a beautiful cover by the great Norman Saunders.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bold Venture Press
• Release date: Oct 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370784233

John R. Rose

JOHN R. ROSE, author of “Alias, the Kansas Kid,” was born in the latter days of the dust bowl era in south central Kansas. His birthplace was probably thirty to fifty miles from the fictional character Dan Robbins’ birthplace. Otherwise, there is no connection between the author and the Kansas Kid.There were seven siblings of the author and they all liked to read. Being raised on a sandhill farm, there was plenty of work and not much time for other activities. When the work was done, the primary activity was reading and listening to the radio adventure programs.Rose attended college on basketball and track scholarships, earning a degree in education. He spent 37 years teaching and coaching in the Kansas public school systems.At an early age, he became a collector of books, magazines and comics involving characters such as Tarzan, The Lone Ranger, Zorro, Flash Gordon, Red Ryder, and dozens of other characters.The author is married and with his wife, Meredith, they have two children. Son, Michael, lives in Colorado and daughter, Anne Marie, lives in Arizona. Both are fans of their father’s writings.Since retirement, the author spends a great amount of time at the computer writing stories.

Book preview

The Kansas Kid Rides Again

John R. Rose

Bold Venture Press

Copyright

Cover art: Norman Saunders

Cover design: Rich Harvey

Alias the Kansas Kid by John R. Rose

Copyright © 2017 by John R. Rose. All Rights Reserved.

This book is available in print at most online retailers.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without express permission of the publisher and copyright holder. All persons, places and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to any actual persons, places or events is purely coincidental.

If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, please purchase your own copy. Thanks for respecting the hard work of this author.

Contents

The Kansas Kid Rides Again

Chapter 01

Chapter 02

Chapter 03

Chapter 04

Chapter 05

Chapter 06

Chapter 07

Chapter 08

Chapter 09

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

About the Author

Bold Venture Press

The Kansas Kid Rides Again

Chapter One

The Heist

Distant thunder rumbled over the small western Kansas cowtown. The only light showing in the after-midnight hours came from the small back room in the Sweet Water Saloon. Six men sat around a board table playing cards with a deck that looked to have been drug through the dirt of the wind-blown street.

Boys, said one of the players, a middle-aged man with a black mustache, I must be gettin’ old but I think the next hand will be my last. Seems like I’ve just got to have my shuteye anymore.

Couldn’t be because you’re losin’ more than anyone else, could it Jarrod? The speaker picked up his mug, swirled the contents and swallowed a huge gulp.

Well, replied the first speaker, since you’ve got most of my money now, there isn’t much point in stayin. And I am tired. Got to be up early in the morning.

Aw, you can’t leave now, Jarrod, said a big man with a huge stack of money in front of him. The night is still young and you haven’t given yourself a chance to win back some of your losses!

The men were chuckling and drinking their beer while trying to convince the biggest loser in the group to stay in the game, when the side door opened silently. Only the gust of incoming wind caused some of the men to glance up. Everything became deathly silent and no one moved.

Just inside the now closed door stood a small figure dressed in dark garments with a Mexican poncho covering the upper portions of the body. The face was covered with a bandana and the slouch hat was pulled low over the forehead. Pointed directly at the table was a double-barreled shotgun.

Jarrod gave a gasp and half rose from his chair. It’s the Kansas Kid! he burst out in a raspy voice.

The stranger pointed the shotgun at the ceiling and pulled the trigger. The blast resounded through the room and, as intended, it definitely had the attention of the six gamblers.

From beneath the poncho appeared a small hand with a large sack which was tossed on the table.

Fill it! were the first words from the masked intruder.

But … but, stammered Jarrod as he rose from his chair.

The hand that had produced the empty sack suddenly reappeared with a sixgun pointed directly at the protesting man. The gun belched flame and the bullet smacked the wall directly behind the man who was falling to the floor.

Fill the sack! came the command again.

Immediately the five remaining gamblers began scraping the money from the tabletop into the brown burlap bag.

Empty your pockets, came the next command and the masked gunman looked directly at the two men who had the largest piles of money in front of them for they would still have money on their person. The men all did as they were directed, including Jarrod, who had now regained his feet though his body was trembling from head to foot.

The small bandit took the filled sack of loot and backed away from the terrified gamblers.

Now, came the high-pitched voice of the holdup man, I am going out in the alley and count this haul. Anyone who comes through that door before I am through will meet my partner, and the shotgun was waved in a menacing manner. Gentlemen, please be seated.

The men nodded in understanding and took their places around the table. When all were in their chairs, the outlaw backed slowly through the side door and into the gusty night wind.

How long you reckon we ought to wait? asked the big man who had lost the most money.

I dunno, Jarrod shrugged. If that was the Kansas Kid, and I think it was, he’d kill you as quick as look at you! I, for one, am going to sit right here for a while.

I wonder where Joe is? questioned one of the men, referring to the barkeeper and owner of the Sweet Water Saloon.

They sat for another moment, not knowing what to do. Then one man quietly got to his feet and slipped silently to the doorway leading to the outer area of the saloon.

Joe’s tied up out here, he called to his companions. Quickly the men left their table and rushed out to find the owner handcuffed to his bar with a gag held in his mouth by a bandana knotted tightly at the base of his skull. The key to the cuffs lay just out of reach on the counter.

What happened, Joe? Jarrod asked as they released the saloon keeper from his bonds.

I don’t rightly know, boys, the man said, rubbing his wrists and shaking his head. I stepped outside to shake out some towels and suddenly this young fellow had a pistol stuck under my chin. Said if I made a sound he’d just blow my head off! You can be for damned certain I kept my mouth shut!

Smart move, one of the men agreed.

Hey, I heard that shotgun go off in the back room, Joe exclaimed. Was anybody hurt?

Naw, said the big fellow who had lost the most money. That was to get our attention and make sure we did exactly like he said.

Seemed to me like that fellow was quite young, Joe commented.

We thought it might be the Kansas Kid, another gambler said and Jarrod nodded in agreement.

Well, said the saloon owner, I guess we can get the county sheriff over here tomorrow morning. He can’t do anything ’till daylight anyhow. Reckon you boys will all be around somewhere.

Then Joe turned to face Jarrod. Everybody else lives around here, he said. Are you stayin’ over at Ma’s Hotel?

Yeah, replied Jarrod. Me an’ my wife are there. Figured we’d be moving on when the sun was up but I reckon we could stick around for a little while.

Within fifteen minutes the Sweet Water Saloon was locked up and the men were gone. Only the wind continued to blow down the dusty deserted street. The distant thunder rumbled but there was only a slim chance of any rainfall.

***

The following morning found Jarrod Glaverston’s rig tied in front of the small hotel. His wife, Susan, waited in the lobby while Jarrod loitered near his buggy. Their belongings were packed and loaded and they were simply waiting for the county sheriff to make his perfunctory interview.

A short time later the sheriff, accompanied by two of the poker players from the disastrous game in the Sweet Water Saloon, came out of the drinking establishment and moved up the street toward the hotel and the waiting Jarrod.

Howdy, said the lawman, hitching up his gun belt and offering a hand to the man leaning against the door jam of the hotel. I take it you’re Jarrod Glaverston. Sorry to hear about your problem last evening.

Well, laughed Jarrod, it was more like early this morning but the result is the same.

Yeah, I reckon, nodded the lawman. Did this owlhoot get much of your winnings?

Again, Jarrod laughed. Not much, sheriff, he said. My playing partners had already pretty well cleaned me out. Fact is, I was about to bow out and go back to the hotel and bed when this holdup artist put in his appearance.

The sheriff nodded. Some of the boys seemed to think you recognized the fellow. Seen him before, had you?

Jarrod shook his head. No, I never saw that fellow before that I know of. However, I thought he kind of looked like the Kansas Kid might look. He was not very big and his voice was kind of high pitched like a youngster. You know, somebody around maybe fourteen or fifteen years old.

Uh-huh, nodded the lawman. I’ve never seen the Kid either, but I think he is a little older than that and somewhat more seasoned than this fellow appeared to be.

Jarrod nodded in silent agreement.

Well, said the sheriff, hitching up his gun belt, if you think of something, let me know.

Yeah, I’ll do that, Jarrod replied.

The county sheriff turned to go and then stopped and looked back. Are you fixing to leave town? he asked.

Yep, replied Jarrod. Wife’s got relatives down in Liberal so we’re headed that way.

The lawman nodded and walked on.

***

Jarrod and Susan Glaverston traveled steadily until about noon when they stopped to allow the horse to rest and graze. They had come upon a small stream so shallow it was difficult for the animal to get water so the man took a shovel from beneath the wagon seat and dug a small hole at the edge of the trickling water. Presently the little pool had filled with water and the mud had settled. Ginger drank his fill and returned to grazing.

There were no trees, or even bushes, in the area so Susan and Jarrod stretched out on a blanket in the shade of the buggy.

Jarrod, said the woman, I got such an exhilarated feeling from our little escapade last night!

Yeah, the man agreed. That was really something!

They were silent for several moments, each lost in their own thoughts. Then the woman turned to the man.

I really wish, she said, almost shyly, you wouldn’t refer to me as the Kansas Kid. In a sense, we are blaming my son for what we are doing and it really bothers me!

Susan, Susan, admonished the man softly, we have been over this before. We both know Dan is out there somewhere and he has had the presence of mind to remain uncaught. It is very likely that he has found a place somewhere and settled in where he is liked and respected. And he has certainly changed his name by now. So, when we divert suspicion to the Kansas Kid, it is someone that does not even exist. We are not hurting a soul!

Susan gave a tightlipped smile and nodded in agreement. She thought back to that time about a year ago when her son had been accused of killing another boy and had fled for his life. For months there had been a reward out for him, dead or alive.

The town of Kiowa Bluffs had turned against Susan because of her illegitimate son and his bad blood. Soon Jarrod Glaverston seemed to be her only friend. When he suggested they get married and leave the only home she had ever known, it had been a tough decision. Eventually she decided it was the only thing to do.

They were married in a simple ceremony at the church with no one in attendance. A short time later, Susan removed all the funds from her son’s bank account. They left for Wichita where Jarrod was sure he would find plenty of work.

Work did not come Jarrod’s way and he spent precious little time looking for it. Instead, he spent his time with cards and gambling. The considerable amount of money that Susan had with her disappeared like water from a leaky bucket.

When Susan realized her new husband had nearly squandered all the money she had taken from her son’s bank account, she was furious. She informed Jarrod he was either to find a job or she was leaving him. The man knew she meant every word.

In a panic, he returned to the gambling tables with the intent of winning it all back and saving his marriage. Of course, it did not happen that way. It never does.

Near penniless, Jarrod Glaverston excused himself from the table to go to the outhouse. When he returned he had changed clothes, pulled a bandana over his face and held a six-gun in his hand. Holding the stunned gamblers at bay, he had filled a small bag with all the money he could stuff in it and then disappeared in the dark.

A few moments later he walked back into the gambling hall in his regular clothes. He learned that while he was gone a masked gunman had held the place up and got away with a large amount of money.

That had been the beginning.

He told his wife what he had done, explaining that these men had cheated him out of all the money he had lost and that he had just righted the wrong. Surprisingly, Susan agreed with him. Primarily because she was so thrilled to get back the money that had belonged to her son.

The following day, the newly married couple hooked up the horse to the buggy and left Wichita for Abilene. Life was looking good again. Susan was happy and Jarrod was feeling confident with himself.

Their stay in Abilene was short lived as Jarrod again went to the saloons to gamble and within a few days he had pulled another heist. It went as smoothly as the first one. Loading the buggy, they left Abilene the following morning.

Jarrod and Susan stayed in Ellsworth one day before the man saw a fellow he thought he recognized and, not knowing if it might be someone he had gambled with in Wichita or Abilene, they had pulled up stakes and moved on west.

Hays City was the next stop and it was here that Jarrod came up with the idea of Susan slipping into the gambling room as a masked bandit and making off with the money. At first the woman was reluctant but he was persuasive and she finally agreed.

Jarrod purchased his wife a pistol and they spent several days east of town on Big Creek practicing with the gun. The man was amazed at how quickly his wife became adept at using the weapon. They picked up a rain slicker and a slouch hat to cover her feminine figure and long hair. A large bandana to cover her face completed the costume.

The couple spent two weeks in Hays before Jarrod determined the time was right. They pulled off the holdup without a hitch or a shot being fired. The escapade gave Susan a thrill she had never felt before and she could hardly wait for their next endeavor.

***

Jarrod decided that one holdup per town was all they should attempt and only then if everything felt right. If anything seemed out of place, they would simply move on to the next stop.

They followed the wagon road to Dodge City where they again prepared to relieve gamblers of their money. Here they changed the slicker for a poncho, feeling it was much easier to work with and would hide Susan’s identity just as well. They also added the shotgun to the woman’s arsenal believing it would have a much better effect on the men being relieved of their winnings. It took her a while to get the hang of the gun’s recoil but she eventually mastered it.

The caper in Dodge City went smoothly and Susan again was jubilant. It was here that Jarrod first referred to the holdup man as the Kansas Kid.

Finally, they pulled their heist in a small nameless frontier town. That, too, had worked to perfection.

Jarrod and Susan had discussed numerous times how bad guys usually pulled one holdup too many and that was their downfall. The two of them decided that they would soon put the caper of robbing gamblers behind them. Perhaps Liberal would be a good location for them to settle down.

Jarrod rolled out of the wagon’s shade and stood up. Immediately he saw two riders top a ridge almost a half mile away and head directly toward them.

Chapter Two

The Stolen Horse

Dan Robbins rose quickly from his bedroll and raised the Winchester laying beside him. He remained motionless in the predawn darkness. In his mind he could still hear the two closely placed shots. However, he wasn’t sure if they were real or if he had been dreaming.

A moment later, a pronghorn bolted out of a nearby draw and disappeared over the crest of the ridge. There were no additional shots and the boy was sure the antelope had heard something that had spooked him, even though he was not the target.

Red, his horse, was grazing a short distance away and Dan was sure that if something were close at hand, the horse would be focused on that area.

Dan remained attentive for a few moments longer and then stood up and stretched. In a short while he had a small fire going and his coffee pot was heating up. He was short on water as they had not found any during yesterday’s ride and he was aware he needed to get a drink for Red soon.

The horse’s head came up and the animal gave a soft whinnying sound. His mount had sensed riders coming this way and had called to them.

Dan stood silently as two riders approached. He held his Winchester in his left hand and his right hand dangled close by the butt of his holstered Colt .45.

Howdy, called the lead rider as they neared Dan’s campfire. Mind if we come in and step down for a bit?

Not at all, Dan replied, not sensing any hostility in the approaching men.

As the riders drew up and dismounted Dan could see they were not much older than he was, if any. Both young men wore six-shooters holstered about their waists. They did not appear to be gunmen, nor were they pretending to be such.

Care to share my coffee? Dan offered. I’m short on water so I didn’t make much but you’re welcome to have some.

If you’ve got the coffee, we’ve got water, the first cowboy said. We can just add it to the pot. Won’t take long for it to get hot, he added with a grin.

You boys from around here? Dan asked, thinking he might get information on the nearest watering hole.

Nope, we’re from up north, said the second rider. We’re off a ranch just south of the Smokey Hill. Figured we’d head south for the winter and spend some time on a cattle ranch in Texas.

Winter’s quite a ways off yet, Dan commented. He opened the lid to the coffee pot and the first cowboy added water from his canteen.

My name’s Joe, said the first rider. And this is my partner, Tom.

I’m Dan, the boy replied as he shook hands with the two young men. I’m headed back toward New Mexico Territory but right now I need to find the closest water so my horse can get a drink. He’s been without water for a while now.

You’re about a mile from water, right now, laughed Tom, but you got to know exactly where it is or you’ll miss it.

You see that ridge up north there? asked Joe, pointing. There is just a little cut across the top. See it?

Yeah, I see it, said Dan after a moment.

Okay, you ride right across that ridge at that point and you’ll see a sloping hill across a gully. For some reason it’s a little more rocky than most of this sandy country. Anyhow, there is a water seep about two-thirds the way up that hill. Somebody took the time to gather stones and build a little basin about three or four feet across to catch the water. It’s some of the sweetest tastin’ water you’ll find anywhere!

Another way to make sure you’re moving in the right direction, added Tom, is to look for the greener grass due to the water.

Thanks, said Dan. That’s where Red and I will be going next!

The two visitors produced cups from their saddle bags and the three boys drank the strong black coffee.

So you fellows are riding to Texas, said Dan as he shook the coffee grounds from the bottom of his cup. I’ve never been there but I think I just might go before too long. Little place named Peso Flats, if it still exists.

Joe and Tom both shook their heads as they had never heard of the town.

Well, how about just goin’ south with us now? asked Joe. We’d welcome your company.

No, thanks, replied Dan. I got to get back to New Mexico. But maybe I’ll run onto you fellows down there in Texas one of these days.

Red was saddled and Dan was just stepping into the stirrup when Tom turned toward him.

How about ridin’ into Cedarville with us, he said. Only about a day’s ride and in the general direction you’re going. A fellow back in Dodge told us the notorious outlaw known as the Kansas Kid was buried there. Thought we’d stop and take a look at his grave site. Probably the closest we’ll ever get to anybody famous!

Tom gave a chuckle but Dan Robbins froze momentarily. Then he shook his head as though to clear it and swung into the saddle. Obviously somebody had confused the grave of Gil Tanner with that of the Kansas Kid.

No, I reckon not, Dan replied. I’ll get some water into Red and fill my canteen and we’ll be moving more in a westerly direction.

Tom and Joe waved and rode southwest while Dan went north in the direction of the water.

***

Dusk was drawing close to darkness when Dan and Red topped a ridge and saw ranch buildings spread out below them. The day had been long, hot and windy and both man and horse were exhausted. Red was again in need of water.

Sensing water, the horse’s ears pricked forward and his pace picked up slightly. The rider held him at a walk.

The buildings were perhaps five hundred yards from the point where Dan Robbins had topped the ridge with the dark ranch house being on slightly higher ground than the barn and stock pens. At the corner of the corral about thirty yards from the barn stood a windmill with a watering trough set in the fence so that stock could be watered from both sides.

As Red moved eagerly toward the water, Dan glanced at the house but still did not see a light and the front porch was too dark to make out any details. In a dry country such as southwest Kansas, folks generally shared water with their friends, neighbors and strangers. The boy assumed he would be welcome to water his horse and get a drink himself as well as fill the canteen.

As they neared the tank of water Red gave a low nickering sound and was answered from the opposite side of the corral fence. It was then that Dan saw the dark form of the horse against the inside rails and just a few feet from the water.

Easy, boy, he said as his horse lowered his muzzle into the tank. Dan dismounted.

The horse inside the corral