West of Abilene

By Mike Poppe

While Gill McCain is out working the cattle, his father hires a drifting cowhand, Chad Randle, to help out with some of the needed repairs around the ranch. When Mr. McCain and Randle have an argument, Randle kills Gill's father in cold blood, then takes off for parts unknown. Desperate to bring Chad Randle to justice, no matter what it takes, Gill sets out on a path that will take him on a danger packed quest for revenge through Texas, Kansas, Nebraska, Colorado, and Wyoming, with Abilene, Kansas never far from his mind.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike Poppe
• Release date: Jul 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005534332

Mike Poppe

I was born in Rector, Arkansas, a small farming based town in Northeast Arkansas. Later, my parents moved to St. Louis in search of better economic opportunity. At age 16, disallusioned and bored with the “One Size Fits All” educational system, I dropped out in the 10th grade.Just as soon as I turned 17, I joined the Marine Corps. The education the Corps provided, wasn't always polite and pleasant, but it most certainly was not boring. My four year enlistment included one year in South Vietnam. 7 November, 1965 to 6 November, 1966. At the end of my enlistment, having attained the rank of Sgt E-5, I returned to civilian life.After nine months as an Industrial Engineering Clerk, I took advantage of an opportunity to move into transportation. For the next 34 years, I was a dispatcher and driver supervisor in the Trucking Industry.In 2011, the rise in popularity of E-books caught my attention. A life long avid reader, I'd always believed I could write a book, but didn't know how to go about getting it published. The birth of E-Books changed all that. In the fall of 2011, fulfilling a life long dream, I published my first book, The Sparrows Whisper.Today, my wife, Mary Katherine, and I, live in a small rural town in Southwestern Illinois. With the encouragement of family and friends, I've published a total of 13 novels. The split between my books has been divided pretty evenly between Mysteries and Westerns. Work on number 14, is under way.For all those that have taken the time to read my books, I appreciate your interest very much.

Book preview

Chapter 01

After pushing cattle from the Double E ranch just west of Goliad, Texas, every cowhand on that trail drive was busting with excitement when the town of Abilene, Kansas finally appeared on the horizon. Only a stern reminder from Ike Trent, the trail boss, that deserting the herd before they were delivered would mean the loss of that drover's wages, kept some of them from taking off for Abilene at that very moment.

Once the cattle were payed for, and driven into the railroad pens, Gill McCain drew his pay from Ike, then rode on over to Tobin's Livery Stable. There he arranged to have his horse grain fed, rubbed down, given fresh water, and otherwise pampered for the fine job he'd done on the long exhausting trail north. That horse, just a colt at the time, had been sold to McCain as a full blooded zebra dun, but there were times when that animal's quickness and ferocity had led him to wonder if he might not also be part catamount. Had it not been for the horse's skillful maneuvering during a stampede just north of the Red River, Gill knew he would have been trampled into the dirt by that herd of run away cows.

Figuring the arrival of this group of cowhands from the trail drive would have motivated the owners of the Drover's Cottage, as well as the other Abilene hotels, to raise their prices, Gill McCain made a deal with Rich Tobin, who ran the livery, to let him sleep on the hay in the stable. After having spent every night on the ground during the drive north from Texas, a bed of hay sounded like heaven to him. Gill's rifle, saddlebags and the rest of his gear, remained at Tobin's Livery, as he set out to explore the town of Abilene.

Acting on Tobin's advice, Gill McCain headed east on Texas Street, until he found Moon's Frontier Store. It certainly didn't meet the young cowboy's expectations of what a store in a town like Abilene might be. The front windows were dirty, and the floors looked as if they hadn't been swept in a month. Getting around inside the store proved to take a bit of doing, as every aisle held a maze of spittoons that customers had missed more often than they'd hit. Still, McCain finally managed to find the new clothing he wanted, then made his way to the counter, where he patiently waited his turn behind the dozen or so customers ahead of him. Once he finally reached the counter, Gill paid for his clothing, then promptly left. Following the instructions he'd received from the livery operator, Gill crossed the dirt street, turned right, and then made his way to Jorgensen's Barber Shop.

As it turned out, there were three other men already waiting their turn, but that suited Gill just fine. For the first time since the start of the trail drive, his time was finally his own, to do with as he wished. Now that he was in Abilene, there was no Trail Boss to tell him that he was going to have to pull a double shift on night guard, no more days where wandering cows had to be chased down, then guided back into the herd under the merciless sun, leaving both drover and cow, impatient and angry. No unexpected battles with small bands of Comanche or Kiowa Indians in the middle of the night, as they tried to sneak past the posted guards, so they could steal horses from the remuda.

Pulling the makings from his shirt pocket, Gill rolled three cigarettes, one of which he smoked while he eagerly listened to the back and forth conversations between Jorgensen and his customers. Having been on the trail for a very long time, other than a scrap or two of news and/or rumor, passed along by the few folks they'd run across on the trail, Gill was completely ignorant of anything that might have happened in the world since they'd made a last minute stop for supplies in Goliad, on their way north. Almost all the people and places referred to in the conversations in the barber shop were foreign to Gill, but he found most of the names of unfamiliar people and places to be downright fascinating.

Following a shave and hair cut, young Gill McCain was more than happy to dole out another two dollars for a bath in the back room of the barber shop. Tim Jorgensen had a half hour limit on the amount of time you could soak in the water filled wooden barrels. After having spent close to three months on the trail north, Gill wasn't about to leave that bath until he'd used up every single minute of his allotted time. Whether Jorgensen lost track of time, or was just feeling generous, the now sparkling clean cowboy would never know, but he had violated his half hour limit by at least another fifteen minutes, when the barber finally opened the door and yelled in Gill's direction.

Hey Texas. Your time's up, and then some. Get a move on.

* * *

Dressed in his new clothes, McCain informed Jorgensen that he'd left his old duds in the back room.

Throw 'em away, burn 'em, whatever you want. They're not much good anymore. Right now, I'm more than a little hungry. Where can I get a good meal without having to give up half the pay I made on the trail drive?

The barber's lips curled upwards in a slight grin. If you're looking for a good meal at a reasonable price, then I'd recommend the Red Robyn Cafe. Go across the Kansas Pacific Railroad tracks, turn west on A Street, then look for the Red Robyn sign on the north side of the street. You can't miss it.

* * *

As he crossed the Kansas Pacific Railroad tracks, a partially bald, barrel chested fellow, walking along the edge of the ramshackle building that had been converted for use as a railroad station, waved at Gill, then opened the door and stepped inside before Gill could respond. Following Tim Jorgensen's instructions, once across the tracks, he turned west on A Street. Just over a block down that street, a sign on his right caught the cowboy's eye. A red robin had been painted smack dab in the middle of the sign, with the words Red painted above, and Robyn painted below the bird.

Stepping inside the cafe, Gill McCain saw a middle age couple who apparently having just finished their meal, were relaxing over coffee, as they engaged in a quiet after dinner conversation. Across the room, a tall man with long flowing hair and a long drooping mustache, sat with his back to the wall as he ate. McCain couldn't help but notice the pair of 36 caliber Navy Colt pistols he carried in a red sash around his waist, with the pistol handles facing forward. That was particularly notable, because most western men carried their pistols in a gun belt and holster. Gil had never before laid eyes on this man, but his personal appearance, coupled with the way he wore those two pistols, was a sure fire fit for a man whose reputation had spread over much of the west.

No sooner had Gill found a table by the front window, than an attractive redhead, whom he guessed to be very close to his own age, walked from the kitchen to his table, smiled, and then introduced herself.

Good evening to you, Sir. The Red Robyn bids you a thousand welcomes. I'm Robyn Danaher. I've a memory for faces, and yours doesn't register. This will be your first time in the Red Robyn?

Somewhat unsettled by the unexpected sight of this Irish beauty, it took a second or two before the dazed cowboy regained some semblance of composure.

Yes Ma'am, it is, sure enough. Me and a bunch of cowhands from the Double E ranch, just brought a herd of cattle up from Texas. Mister Jorgensen at the barber shop said I could get a good meal at a fair price here.

The redhead with sparkling hazel eyes smiled. And well he knows it, for he and his wife Betty, herself a good cook, eat here at least twice a week. So Cowboy, you have my name, would you have the good manners to share yours with me? Or did you misplace it somewhere along the trail from Texas?

Ma'am, I've been on the trail for a very long time, and I suppose I've lost most of what few manners I had. Reckon I should have told you right off that my name is Gill McCain, and that I'm most glad to meet you.

You'll be saving your Ma'ams for my mother, she answered with a wink and a smile. You may call me Robyn. It's spelled R-o-b-y-n, not R-o-b-i-n. My mother's idea. She's the one who named the Cafe. Now, Gill McCain from Texas, would you be seeing a menu before you order?

Staring into her deep hazel eyes, he swallowed twice, then answered.

Robyn, with a Y, just bring me what you think best. I'll trust your judgment.

Chapter 02

Just as Robyn brought Gill's supper to his table, the tall gent with the two Navy Colt pistols paid for his meal, then turned and left the Red Robyn Cafe. Without being obvious about it, Gill kept the man in the corner of his eyesight until he left the building. Nodding in the direction where the tall fellow had just left, he inquired, Back in Texas, I heard about a guy who fit his description. Would that be Bill Hickok?

Robyn set his plate on the table, then replied. Sure and you've a good eye, Gill McCain. Yes, that's himself, Wild Bill, as he's known to a lot of people. He's been the town Marshal here for these past four months.

As Gil cut into his steak, he inquired. We hear lots of stories. Is he as fast with those guns as people say?

I suppose so. Not that I've myself seen him shoot anybody, but he's only been Marshal for about four months, and they say he's already killed three men. I'm not saying those that he killed weren't bad men, but from what I've been told, if Hickok would have given them a chance to back off, they just might still be alive today. Wild Bill doesn't seem to be a patient fellow, and they say he's quick to use those pistols. Still, from what little I've talked with the man here in the Cafe, the Marshal doesn't seem to be a bad sort, at all. Of course, he might well be a different sort of fellow when he's enforcing the law.

* * *

Gill was halfway finished with his steak, mashed potatoes, milk gravy, and corn on the cob, when Robyn returned to his table.

So, Gill McCain, was our food to your liking?

Surprised that the bright eyed redhead had returned this soon, Gill hurriedly swallowed his last bite of food.

Ma'am, after.... Taking a deep breath, he tried again. I'm sorry.... Please excuse the Ma'am comment. What I intended to say was, after what I've been eating on the trail for better than two months, this meal is sure enough heaven on earth.

Pleased by the obvious enthusiasm behind his remark, she smiled. I'll be passing your compliment along to my sainted mother, for she's doing the cooking today. Tell me now, what have you planned for the rest of the day? Heading back across the tracks after the long cattle drive to see if you can find a pretty girl to help you blow off steam?

Almost instantly aware that she was referring to the girls he'd been told about, who worked upstairs in the Drover's Cottage, the Alamo Saloon, or one of a half dozen other establishments, Gill chose his words carefully.

Actually, no. I know that most of the guys I rode with on the drive from Texas, will probably leave Abilene just as broke as they were when we rode in here, but I've got other plans.

Really now? If you don't mind my asking, what sort of plans do you have in mind, Gill McCain?

I'm going to Colorado. Used to ride with a fellow named Marty Brooks. Got a letter from him before I left on this trail drive. Marty done got himself promoted to Foreman for the Slash B. That's a ranch about half way between Sublette Springs, and a small town called Loveland, Colorado. He wants me to come out and work with him. Tell you the truth, I was getting ready to leave Texas for awhile anyway. With a trip to Colorado ahead of me, I can't be wasting what little money I've got.

Good for you, she replied. That's better than spending all your money on the whiskey and girls on Texas Street, then leaving with your pockets empty. So, when would you be planning on leaving our fair town?

Been thinking on that, he answered. I was going to take off before sunup and eat breakfast on the trail, but to tell you the truth, I don't know when I'll find another place that serves up food like this.

Crossing her arms, the determined looking redhead gave him a question to consider. Well then, so it's only our good food that you'll be missing? Is that it?

The unexpected question nearly made Gill choke as he took a sip of hot coffee, and left him feeling as if he had just stepped off into a pool of quicksand.

Hold on. That's not exactly what I meant. I sort of figured that maybe if you're going to be working tomorrow morning, I might stop in for breakfast on my way out of town. So, to answer your question, no it's not just the food I have in mind. I guess with me being a stranger and all, it's pretty silly on my part, but an old hand on the trail drive used to say that a man has a right to make a fool of himself once in a while. I suppose maybe it's my turn. So, if you don't mind, I'd kind of like to see you again before I take off.

Robyn's face was non committal, but Gill thought he detected a sparkle in her eyes that hadn't been there earlier.

Well Gill McCain, for your information, I don't think it's silly. Not a'tall. According to my dear mother, and she's probably right, sometimes I'm too free with my speech for my own good. Still, for your information, I'd be pleased to find you sitting here again in the morning. As anxious as Robyn was to hear the young cowboy's reply, when a group of six customers entered the Cafe, and sat at a nearby table, Robyn flashed a regretful smile in Gill's direction, then dashed off to take care of her new customers.

Pining for a chance to continue the conversation with Robyn Danaher, Gill tarried over his meal as long as possible, but soon the continued arrival of new customers made it obvious that any chance of conversation with this alluring redhead was almost certainly over for this day. Using the menu posted on the wall for a guide, he left enough money on the table to pay for the meal, and Robyn's tip, then quickly headed for the door. Heading east, he'd walked no more than fifteen feet, when the melodic voice of Robyn Danaher brought him to a halt in mid stride.

Gill McCain. If it be of any interest to you, I've but an hour and a half left to work. Or maybe it's the Texas Street girls you'll have on your mind now?

Try as he might, Gill couldn't think of a thing to say that wouldn't make him seem foolish, so he pointed to the bench across the street.

Well, Miss Danaher, for your information, when you get off work, I'll be holding down that bench yonder.

* * *

When the hour and a half promised by Robyn had come and gone by another hour, Gill tossed his cigarette on the ground in frustration, then ground it into the dirt with the toe of his boot. Crossing the railroad tracks, he started out in the direction of the Alamo Saloon. Being stood up by a girl, even one as pretty as Robyn Danaher, was not going to make him get drunk, and blow all his money. He must go to Colorado. One drink in the famous Alamo Saloon, a few hours rest in the livery, then shortly after midnight, he'd ride out of Abilene, and never look back.

Ignoring the repeated offers of his drunken trail mates to buy him a drink, Gill pushed past them, then moved to the far end of the bar, where he had more breathing room. Unlike these men he'd ridden with on the trail, he ordered beer not whiskey. While the celebrating drovers would be wasting most of tomorrow trying to shake their crippling hangovers, Gill intended to be well on his way out of Kansas.

Gill was savoring his first taste of beer in a very long time, when behind him, the unexpected sound of Robyn Danaher's voice froze him in place.

Well now Gill McCain, might you be in a forgiving mood tonight?

Turning, he stared past the bright eyed redhead, so as to not fall victim to her deep hazel eyes.

Robyn Danaher, I'm a fair man, but not a fool, if that's what you're thinking.

When their eyes met, Robyn's never flinched. If I believed you to be a fool, I wouldn't be here. We had an accident in the kitchen, and with both my mother and I working hard to fix things, it took as long as it took. It's sorry I am, that it caused you to feel as if you'd been forgotten. You weren't.

Looking around at the Saloon filled with rowdy cowboys, Gill suggested. Maybe we could go some place where it's not so crowded?

Aye, that might be nice, she agreed. Maybe we could rent a buggy at the livery, and go someplace where there are no crazy drunken Texans?

As they walked the boardwalk on their way to Tobin's Livery Stable, Gill inquired, If you don't mind my asking, how did you know where to find me?

I didn't really, she answered. But, they tell me that the Alamo Saloon is known all over the west. Anyone who comes to Abilene for the first time, usually makes it a point to go there, have a drink, or just look around, so they can go back home, and honestly brag that they were there. For sure, I gambled that you might still be here when I finished at the Cafe. I didn't know what else to do.

Gill replied, For what it's worth, I'm glad you tried.

* * *

Roughly an hour later, a few miles Southwest of Abilene, Gill McCain and Robyn Danaher, in a horse and buggy, pulled up as close to a quiet body of water, as the surrounding terrain would permit. Looking out at the reflection of the moon upon the surface of the water, Gill took in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled.

Now that's a really peaceful sight. Does this place belong to your mother?

No, I'm afraid not. This lake is part of a very large spread that belongs to Carl Hennessy. He's the local Superintendent of the Kansas Pacific railroad. Every couple of weeks or so, Carl asks my mother to marry him, but so far, she keeps saying no. My Mother and I have a small place behind the Cafe. It's not much, but since we own the Cafe, it works out well for us. But enough of that. Let's take a walk along the lake.

Smiling, Gill answered, OK, but that's really not a lake. In Texas, we'd call it a pond. Nice place though.

As they slowly meandered along the edge of the pond, Robyn seemed to be in a mood to talk, so Gill listened, and learned a little more about this woman whom he found as interesting as she was well attractive.

When my father lost his job in Kansas City, he used money he'd been saving for years, to buy land not very far from where we're standing right now. He'd grown tired of working in an office, and was determined to make a go of farming. Unfortunately, he had a lot of bad luck, and to be honest, he really wasn't a very good farmer. Pa tried. Lord knows he tried hard, but he didn't seem to have the instinct for working the land. Finally realizing that he was never going to be successful at farming, he managed to sell the land for mo more than half of what he'd paid for it. I suppose I have to admit that there was a short time in which feeling sorry for himself, he spent more time in the Pubs or Saloons, as you'd call them, than he did looking for work. Somehow, he got a job working for the railroad. Unfortunately, he was no more suited to that work, than he was to farming. One day, Mother and I woke up to find him gone, with not so much as a word, or a note. He never came back. To this day, I don't know if he's still alive or not.

Gently reaching out, Gill touched her arm, and whispered, I'm sorry.

He wanted to tell her that he knew what it was like to lose a father, but that wasn't the kind of thing he was prepared to discuss,

Especially since he intended to be gone in the morning. Instead, he simply added. It must have been a hard time for you and your mother.

Halfway back to the horse and buggy, Robyn spoke again. With Daddy gone, Mother had to find a way to make a living. She's a beautiful woman, and there were men who yearned to marry her, but as strange as it might seem, she was still very much in love with my father. Mother told me that she knew the time was coming when I would find someone, and start a life of my own. She wanted me to know that she didn't intend to spend the rest of her life alone, but she wouldn't get married again just to avoid being alone. When the right man came along, she would marry, but not a day before.

Thinking of his own mother, he was glad that his younger brother Ben was still at home with her. Turning to face Robyn, he said, Your mother sounds like a wise woman.

She agreed with a slight smile, and a nod of her head, but said