Ride West

By William F. Martin

In a bygone era, the cowboys of the Old West spent the best parts of their lives working to maintain cattle ranches, to breed and raise livestock and to drive cattle to market. The luckiest of those spent their time on the very ranch that their father, and perhaps their grandfather, had builtliving out hard-earned legacies that gave them clear priorities and, if they were truly fortunate, more family to carry on when their time ended.

Ride West continues William Martins tale which is set within that erabut even then, there were men who had been cheated out of their rightful inheritances by others who were willing to use any means to get the land, money and power they desired. The survivors of our Old West werent always the proud nor the righteous; often, those left standing were among historys most sinister characters.

Having acknowledged the villains of this period, it should be noted that Americas history also reveals a solid consistency in producing worthy opponents to themeach of whom has stood for our countrys most revered values. Entering the world of Mr. Martins first book Stand Tough, and its sequel Ride West, readers meet such a man. Despite overwhelming odds, Clint Mason reveals the power of one... and single-handedly sets out to defend what remains of his family and their land at all costs. Experiencing Clints covert travails, we see how sharp wits and sure-handed action can begin to conquer the unknown and the unjust.

Mr. Martin wishes to acknowledge the inspiration provided by his favorite uncle, the late Tom Weatherholt, who was a professional truck driver by trade. It was at the age of eight, while accompanying his Uncle Tom on a trip from Kentucky to New York City, sleeping aboard that big rig and eating at truck stops, that the author was introduced to Zane Grey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 2, 2005
• ISBN: 9781420884050

Book preview

Ride West

Book Two of

The Clint Mason Series

by

William F. Martin

Title_Page_Logo.ai

This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

© 2006 William F. Martin. All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 11/28/05

ISBN: 1-4208-8405-0 (e)

ISBN: 1-4208-8404-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4208-8405-0 (ebk)

Bloomington, Indiana

Contents

Chapter 1.

Chapter 2.

Chapter 3.

Chapter 4.

Chapter 5.

Chapter 6.

Chapter 7.

Chapter 8.

Chapter 9.

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.

Chapter 24.

Chapter 25.

Chapter 26.

Chapter 27.

Chapter 28.

Chapter 29

Chapter 30.

Chapter 31.

About the Author

Chapter 1.

Clint rode west with his heart in a mixture of feelings. In helping his brother and in saving the family ranch, he had restored his pride. However, his reputation was still tarnished, and with the only man that could have cleared him falling before his very own gun, his wanderings would have to continue indefinitely without hope of returning to his hometown and the relationship with his brother that he had so cherished as a young boy. There was a contentment deep in his soul that he and his brother were together in mind and understanding, even if they could not visit and spend days talking over old times. The magical thing between these two brothers was a mystical ability to communicate almost without words. Although they were not twins, their relationship was similar to that reported by many twins – communicating feelings, thoughts and ideas back and forth without any contact. It’s like a subconscious feeling, inclination or sensibility that leads the two independent people to the same action, place or conclusion. Also, no matter what someone may say to one about the other, a spark of doubt or mistrust would never arise between the two. Mere men could not break their loyalty.

Loneliness spread over Clint Mason as he rode farther and farther west into the rough country between Utah and Colorado. He had circled far north of his mind path west to avoid the desert area’s huge stone monuments that rose up out of the desert floor like tombstones. His lonesome feelings drew from loss of hope of rekindling his cherished family relationships, and from being wrongfully run out of his home community as a young man, with no one to turn to for companionship through these many years.

After two days and nights with gorgeous sunsets and sunrises over the desert and the great valley of stone monuments, Clint began to feel some positive effects. His subconscious had probably guided him to this place of solitude and majestic natural beauty. As his mood improved, his battered body continued its healing process. The body is a marvelous machine. Given adequate food and rest, it can endure tremendous stress. If you add a good positive attitude or a specific goal, then the individual body and spirit acting together can accomplish miraculous tasks. Clint had been blessed at birth with the outstanding tall lean body structure, quick reflexes, keen eyes, quick mind and stamina to outlast 99 of 100 men. With these basic assets, Clint’s years of self-sufficiency had sharpened his ability to match the best. This had just been proven with this survival in the Manatee County range war. True, he had been wounded seriously… but any lesser man would have laid down and died. Not many people ever survived a gunshot wound, but Clint had crawled into his hideaway and nursed himself back to health. He then went out and finished the job while still weak and in pain. Under those circumstances, his ability to make a second and a third try revealed things about Clint that he had previously only suspected. One thing his family had always believed was that the right things are worth fighting for. There was no yielding to wrong. If need be, you fought to the death. Clint was made of the stuff that military commanders dream of: power, intelligence and the willingness to give everything for his cause. The Greek and Roman generals gave their highest respect to men of this character and capability. Clint watched yet another sun disappear into the horizon, his stature, stance and nobel face recalling the most ancient of warriors. After this night, his next adventure would begin.

Chapter 2.

A diet of rattlesnake, rabbit and wild plants had rebuilt Clint’s physical strength. A rigorous daily exercise program including gun practice was steadily returning his skills and strength to their peaks. The nights of solitary card practice by firelight had heightened his old card playing skills to a level that brought a grin even to that stoic face.

The final phase of Clint’s recovery was going to be mental. The loneliness and loss of purpose had to be dealt with… and soon. Clint analyzed himself objectively, if not harshly. He was a tough taskmaster. He expected the best from himself and he allowed no excuses for weakness.

His mental search for suitable goals and purposes took his thoughts back to his brother. Brad Mason was a pillar in the community, respected by the men and women he came into contact with through both business and daily life. He had a permanent home with roots into the soil and community. He now had a companion to stand beside him in this struggle of life, as well as the hope of offspring and the continuation of his lineage and family name.

With these thoughts still meandering through his complex mind, Clint made the decision to ride on west toward his future. A void deep within him drove him to some unnamed objective. His reasoning told him that when the time was right, the purpose for his life would be revealed to him. His task now was to get on with his life day by day and leave the future to a power greater than himself.

Chapter 3.

Clint’s finances were in good shape, but bigger and better things were in every bone of his body. Clint was a strong believer in using the talents bestowed upon you. His card playing skills matched the best and when you added the mathematical skill of odds calculations and financial resources to back his play, this talent begged for action. The Santa Fe banker friend that had played such an important part in saving the Mason family ranch had set up a special investment account for Clint in the only name that the banker knew, Cliff Martin. Clint’s confidence in his ability to survive in any environment overrode any real need to accumulate wealth for future security. However, why not make life easy if people were foolish enough to risk their money in a game of chance at which they were poorly skilled? Clint also had a touch of Robin Hood in his blood. There was a real sense of accomplishment when he could transfer the easily obtained money of crooks and gamblers to the hardworking honest cow wranglers. When it could be done with skill and subtlety, the satisfaction was even more complete. The smarter and slicker the crook, the bigger the challenge.

Clint did not depend on or believe in luck, other than what you made yourself. Card playing was a skill made of knowledge, self-control and intimidation of your opponents. Knowledge to play cards effectively – winning more times than losing – was composed of more than just knowing how to calculate the odds. The real skill was reading the character and will of the other players. Gaining an understanding of their motives and responses, and thus being able to predict their behavior. This knowledge of human behavior is open to everyone if they will observe people and learn from their actions and reactions. Not many people had taken as much interest in his fellow man as Clint Mason. His analytical methods would have made him a great scientist in another place and time. But in his present environment of wild towns, gambling halls, range wars and little or no law and order, his knowledge of human traits and behavior was necessary for survival. It also paid good dividends at poker tables.

Clint’s horse must have picked up the direction of his thoughts, because he set his head for the next range town up ahead and the hitching rail in front of the biggest gambling saloon.

Chapter 4.

The roan stallion was not the best looking horse on that street. In fact, he looked very ordinary and rather beat up. The cover on a book does not reveal its contents, and this also holds true for people and animals. Under that rough textured, trail dusted, scarred horse skin rested pure energy, power and stamina. Clint’s knowledge of cards and people was probably surpassed only by his ability to identify the best in horseflesh. As Clint rode slowly into town, he measured in his mind each horse along the street against his roan. Of the horses he saw, he knew that none could stay anywhere close with his, not even for a single mile. Always on the lookout for better breeding stock, Clint’s thoughts went back to the remote canyon and the choice few horses he had taken there years ago. Each horse had been handpicked to produce the best horse strain possible. As he thought about each individual horse he had taken to his secret canyon, he longed to return to that peaceful retreat, but knew the time was not yet ready.

Chapter 5.

The roan stallion shifted its powerful shoulder muscles under Clint and brought him back from his daydreams. Standing hip high at the far hitching rail was the type of horse that Clint was looking to add to his collection. The stallion must have had the same feelings about this large, almost chocolate brown mare. The mare was at least eighteen hands high, with bone size and muscle tone to match anything Clint had ever seen. There was not a mark on the horse, indicating someone had taken great tender loving care of this animal. Clint’s quick eyes left