Stryker's Ranch - Wen Stryker: Stryker Series, #1

By George M. Goodwin

After the death of his beloved wife on their wedding day, Wen Stryker found himself lost. He helped his father-in-law, Tate, purchase a river boat, then he headed off into the vast lands of Texas. Eventually, Wen bought two ranches, then drove a herd of cattle a near impossible number of miles, to inherit a third. But, all that land still didn't fill his void.
When he received a wire about Tate's boat being hit by pirates, and Tate being shot, Wen and Jess, his ranch foreman, headed for Louisiana. With cool heads and good plans, they managed to gather a personal Navy of river boat captains who were fed up with losing their loads, and their money. Instead of waiting for the pirates to rob them once more, the captains, led by Wen, took the fight to the head captain, Bergeron, and put an end to his plundering on the Mississippi River.
Once back home, Wen became wrestles once more. Until a beautiful and destitute Spanish beauty named Mira Valencia, walked into the general store he was in, and into his heart. Wen suddenly found a new purpose in life again, and came to love Mira. Just as the Stryker luck seemed to be going in full swing, Wen is reminded that love can be found, and lost, in the blink of an eye….or the wave a pirate's flag.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pale Horse Publications
• Release date: May 31, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227931368

George M. Goodwin

George was born in 1960 in Jefferson County Alabama. The fifth of nine children, eight boys and one girl. The family was raised poor, but not poorly raised. At home, George was taught morals, ethics and respect. Reading, writing and arithmetic at school. Love, honor and obedience to God at church. He grew up on John Wayne movies, country music and the writings of Louis L' Amour, Robert Louis Stevenson, H.G. Wells and Jules Verne.  

Book preview

A month after leaving Louisiana and Tate behind Wen bought himself a small ranch between Fort Worth and Dallas it was next to nothing both the price for it and the ranch itself. The area around was called Dechman, although there wasn’t really a town. There just three buildings and a dream. The ranch was only eight hundred acres, but there was some open grazing land around it and some other ranches that could possibly be bought. It had a small watering hole on it and a dangerous looking shack that somebody had once called home. Wen thought it had potential. He had no plans of a happy home or anything like that. After losing Emily, he never expected to have that chance again. It would be a place, though, for him to hang his hat and occupy his mind. Tate had his boat, he had seen to that before leaving Louisiana, and wished him luck with it. Tate had promised to send payments as soon as he had the boat making some money. Wen told him when he found a place to light, he’d let him know. Tate was Emily’s father and, very briefly, Wen’s father-in-law. Before meeting the neighbors, which he was in no hurry to do anyway, he scouted around the area. 

THERE WAS SEVERAL OTHER small ranches around mine, but no one seemed to be doing much. I guess the larger ranches were farther to the west. That was fine with me as I didn’t want nothing big anyway. I was mostly looking to make sure there was no big ranches around that would give me trouble later on down the road. There was one good sized ranch that concerned me a little. I had never been a trouble-hunting man, but after what happened in California, well, you might say I was riding with a chip on my shoulder. I still wouldn’t hunt trouble, but if it wanted me, I’d not be hiding from it.

My horse was a good one and had belonged to my old friend Eli. I looked at that shack for a minute then fixed a rope around two posts and dropped a loop over my saddle horn. I nudged the horse backward until it came down with a crash. For the next two days I burned everything that had been there. Then I thought about what I wanted to build back. It didn’t need to be big, as it was just me and probably always would be. Although some parts of Texas had some rather large forests, Dechman, it seemed, was not that part of Texas and had very few trees even. I would have to buy what I needed in Dallas or Fort Worth. Log cabins, it seemed, were not needed or built around here both because of the limited amount of trees, and with milder weather, the thick log walls weren’t needed against the cold.

Everything here about seemed to be frame buildings with plank siding and roofs. I laid out my corners and marked them with rocks. While I was in Dallas I sent a letter to Tate. Not for the money, I had told him from the start that he didn’t need to pay me back, but he wouldn’t hear of it. It was more just to let him know where I was should he need me. At this time I thought of him as the only friend I had in the world. Not that I’d ever had many. 

I bought what building lumber I would need and paid a local freighter to deliver it to me. Four days later I helped him unload two wagons of lumber. Come the morning I would start to build something new. No day passed that I didn’t think of Emily and few that I didn’t think of Eli. That old man had been my first real friend and also my partner in the mine. He had died in his sleep and left me everything he had helped me work for. His part of what we took from the mine and his horse and rifle. The last two I put more value on than the gold. 

The house was slow to start, but once I found my pace it went up fairly quick. I built a stone boat and dragged rock from wherever I found them. I built a fireplace just like I’d built in the cabin. Once I was in it, I started riding the property every day checking things over. I spent a couple of days dragging brush from the waterhole and cleaning around it. I found the grass to be sparse and tough and with just the one water hole.

The only cattle it was logical to run would be long horns. They had adapted to this land many years ago and did well on it. While out riding one day I saw a herd of cattle being rounded up on the ranch to the west of mine and rode over. I introduced myself and he said his name was Miller.

He told me he was taking this bunch to Fort Worth and then he was going to keep right on riding west. Been fighting it here for eight years, he said. Not enough land to run enough cattle to afford to buy more land, so once this herd is sold, I’m going on west where there’s still plenty of open ground. 

How many head you got? I asked him. 

Four hundred, he told me, with a good bull and several calves still trailing their mothers. 

What about your ranch? I asked him.

Just shy of nine hundred acres, he said, but a lot of it even longhorns can’t graze. It does have a good sized waterhole on it, though. 

What was you expecting to get out of the herd? I asked. 

They been selling for twenty dollars a head of late, he said. 

Let me make you an offer, I told him. 

I’m listening, Miller said. 

I’ll give you ten thousand cash for the herd and property and you can walk away without having to push them anywhere. 

Ten thousand? asked Miller. That’s not allowing much for my land. 

You mean the land you was fixing to ride off from and make nothing off of it? 

Miller thought about it for a whole minute then stuck out his hand. Is that cash money? he asked. 

It is, I said. I’ll ride with you to Fort Worth tomorrow. We can get your money from the bank and you can sign the herd and the property over to me. They got a judge over there who can witness the whole thing nice and legal. 

After a brief stop at the bank, I met Miller in front of the judge’s house. We walked in together and I told the judge what was going on and that we wanted it to be all legal. He read over the letter Miller had wrote up describing the property. 

He also wrote that what brand those cows were wearing was to be transferred to me, so I’d have no questions when I went to sell them. The judge said everything looked good, so in front of him, I counted out ten thousand dollars to Miller and told him thank you. I turned around and handed the judge ten dollars. 

As we left the judges house, Miller said, Thanks, Stryker. I hope you have better luck than I’ve had. 

Not that it matters, I said, but is there a house on the property? 

About like the one that was on your land when you bought, it he said. 

I bought a few supplies and headed home. I now had near seventeen hundred acres and four hundred head of cattle. I guessed I’d have to start looking for some help. I didn’t have to look far. 

When I rode up to the house there was a man there with a small fire built and coffee on. Evening, he said as I stepped down. 

Evening to you, I replied. Having some coffee, are you? 

Yes sir, he said, hope you don’t mind. I’m looking for Wen Stryker.

As I walked toward the man I let my hand drop to my pistol and removed the hammer thong. I’m Wen Stryker, I told him. Can I help you with something? 

Standing up from the fire with his hand out, he said, I guess you don’t remember me, Captain Stryker. My name is Jess Rowlings. I rode with you in the war. 

It came to me in a flood then. Yeah, I said, I remember you now. What brings you way out here?  

Been here for years, Jess said. Ever since the war ended. Once it was over I drifted west like a lot of others I guess. Worked cattle here and there and then tied in with Mr. Miller about two years ago. 

You was working for Miller? I asked. 

Yes sir, he’s the one told me a man named Wen Stryker was buying him out. I thought I’d ride over to see if it was you, Captain. 

I haven’t been a captain for some time, I said. Well, put your fire out and let’s take this in the house. Bring the coffee, though. I’ll have a cup myself. 

We sat for hours then talking about the war and certain battles and other men who’d rode with them. I told Rowlings some about living in California. I said nothing of the gold mine, but did tell him about Emily and that she had died shortly after we were married and that it was what brought me back to Texas. 

"Seems I remember you being about the