American West Story

By a.j. Lombardi

New American west adventure story about the expansion of the American west. “A captivating and exciting American west series told in an ongoing story of American history brought to life. The life and times of Marshall Luke Johnson of Montana territory by new American author a.j.Lombardi is an American west story that will go down as one of the best western adventures ever told!”

• Language: English
• Publisher: a.j. Lombardi
• Release date: Jan 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005067823

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by a.j.Lombardi Copyright © 2021 All Rights Reserved

A captivating and exciting American west series of American history brought to life. The life and times of Marshall Luke Johnson of Montana territory by new American author a.j.Lombardi will go down as one of the best western adventures ever told!



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Dedication

This story is dedicated to the Native American Indians,

cowboys, lawmen and all men and women of the west who

are the true legends in our great American frontier.

Index

Chapter 1  Off to war

Chapter 2  A conscious seared

Chapter 3   Soldier no more

Chapter 4   Voice of an angel

Chapter 5  The renegades

Chapter 6   My name ain't yankee

Chapter 7   My name is Marshal Luke Johnson

Chapter 8   Never touch the Henry Winchester

Chapter 9   They be drowned and dear sir

Chapter 10 You can call me Beth

Chapter 11 He was not supposed to die

Chapter 12 They were people too

Chapter 13 The Henry Winchester rifle

Chapter 14 Evil triumphs when good men do nothing

Chapter 15 My name is Hania

Chapter 16 The yellow dress

Chapter 17 The 23rd. Psalm

Chapter 18 He sent my destiny in motion

Chapter 19 Justice served

Chapter 20 I think the Lord had a plan

Chapter 21 He was a new man

Chapter 22 Are we going home Ma?

Chapter 23 A real Indian

Chapter 24 My life is not over yet

Chapter 1   Off to war

Much to my family’ s dismay   I joined the northern army  and headed off to war.  I was under the command of  General William Tecumseh Sherman and fought in the first battle of Bull run. I began my new direction in life proudly wearing  a brand-new spic and span uniform which made me feel important. However,  by  the end of the war,  my uniform was as tattered, stained and torn as the man who wore it.

Since heading off to my duties as a soldier in the northern army, things were never the same in our family.  My older sister Sara married a gentleman who was from the deep south. Although we had a great relationship,  a cordial silence ensued our family.  Before heading off to war, we never discussed our views at family gatherings.  I think we all knew it would only lead to a very contentious path that we could never reverse from.  We all just kept our views in check through our awkward family gatherings.  During my first years in the war, I lost many friends and came to realize  the importance of my faith.  After a few months of the daily reality of war, I stopped writing letters back home. The never-ending  trials of war  quickly  took over my life.  My former life back home slowly drifted away.  The days weeks and months seemed like one long day for me.  My fellow soldiers and I hoped and prayed that each new day would bring an end to an endless battle.

1865 War ends

That day did finally become a reality when a soldier came galloping through our camp firing his pistol in the air.  One would think that the news would make me jump up and down. That was not how it was for me.  The war had drained all emotion out of me.  My uniform, shoes and socks were  muddied and wet from the previous days heavy rain.   All I wanted was to sit by the campfire in silence and try to get warm.   The war’s end was a time of exoneration for some and total destitution for others.  A new era began, and an old era ended.   I fought for the North and truly believed in the cause, but in the end, I felt a loss for all who suffered, both North, South and caught in the middle of it all.  We tend to believe that all people from the North all hold the same values and all people from the South all share the same values as well.  Many of the people I encountered in the South were as kind and caring as the people I knew from back home.  For me, it was not the people that were my enemies.  But rather the deeply held ideals that divided us.

With the civil war ending, I had to contemplate my next move in life.  A lot of the other soldiers spoke about re-enlisting and going off to the Indian wars. I heard about a General named Custer who was looking for men to join his command.  They say that he commanded the 7th. Calvary.  Having experience with horses all my life, I figured that I would fit right in!   A lieutenant from my company said that Custer and his troops were the sharpest group of soldiers he had ever seen!  I thought that maybe it would be a good adventure for me.  Besides, it would be great to have a new uniform!  However, I needed some time away from the battle and soon found myself in a small town in Montana. 

I rented a room next to a local saloon and soon became a regular guest.  I would just sit there for hours drinking and trying to figure out my next steps in life.  The Indian wars were going on and I figured I would re-enlist and join General Custer onto my next life’s adventure. The summer months that followed quickly passed and so did my cash reserve.     I realized I had to make a concrete decision on my future.  On a summer afternoon in middle of  July   I was sitting alone at the Dove tree saloon in the center of town.  As usual, there was a very ruckus crowd. Everyone was just enjoying their drinks, flirting with the barmaids and enjoying the tunes that were being played from an old out of tune piano with missing keys.  No one seemed to mind just how bad the off-tune piano sounded.  I think everyone was just so caught up in the moment that was a long time coming for many.

The Dove tree saloon brought in people from all walks of life. I enjoyed watching the various people who frequented the establishment. The array of customers included gamblers, hustlers, gossips, farmers, cowboys, soldiers and just plain folk looking for a good time.  I could pretty much tell each person’s story by the way he or she  spoke, dressed and acted in general.  Ma always said that I was pretty good at noticing details about people that most folks didn’t notice. 

She said I should become an agent for Pinkertons detective agency.  In the far corner of the saloon I noticed a man sitting by himself who looked very much out of place.  The two things that really stood out about this man was that even though his clothing was somewhat raggedy, they looked like they were pretty expensive.  I also noticed that his hands were not the hands of a working man.  His face was without sun burn as most people who work in the farms or as ranch hands.  His hands looked like he never touched a plow