Buck Weston- Texas Ranger

By Cedric Daurio11

Immerse yourself in Buck Weston's vibrant novel, featuring a courageous and seasoned Texas Ranger known for his dedication and skills in combating crime in the Old West. Buck and his team dismantle bands of rustlers and raiders, protecting ranchers and bolstering the local economy. They confront vandals who massacre bison, defending the rights of Native Americans and restoring balance.

After a brief visit to his family, Buck joins Captain José Martínez of the Rural Police to stop smuggling on the Mexican border. Upon his return, they capture Bryce "Bart" Harris's gang, returning the stolen gold and ensuring a safer life for his family in Austin, while Buck remains a dedicated Ranger.

With thorough historical, social, and security research into 1880s Texas, this richly illustrated novel revives the finest traditions of the Wild West.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cedric Daurio
• Release date: Jun 23, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227706409

Cedric Daurio11

Cedric Daurio is the pen name a novelist uses for certain types of narrative, in general historical thrillers and novels of action and adventure.The author practiced his profession as a chemical engineer until 2005 and began his literary career thereafter. He has lived in New York for years and now resides in Miami . All his works are based on extensive research, his style is stripped, clear and direct, and he does not hesitate to tackle thorny issues.C. Daurio writes in Spanish and all his books have been translated into English, they are available in print editions and as digital books.

Book preview

Dramatis Parsonae

  Thomas Buck Weston : Texas Ranger.

  Winona: (first daughter in Sioux) wife of Buck Weston.

  Chatam: (Falcon) son of Winona and Buck.

  Dohasan: (Little Mountain) Kiowa Chief, father of Winona.

  Guikati: (Sleeping Wolf) Kiowa Indian, ally of Buck Weston.

  Bryce Bart Harris: Dreaded bandit, stagecoach robber.

  John Finnimore Dr.: Doctor residing in Waco.

  Paulette Finnimore: Beautiful daughter of Dr. John Finnimore.

  John Jack Jones: Rookie Ranger, Weston's assistant.

  William Bill Hutchinson: Chief of the Austin Rangers.

  Goyathlay: Apache Chief, ally of Bart Harris.

  Chayton: Abandoned Kiowa child.

  Lone Eagle: Chief of another Kiowa tribe allied with Dohasan.

  Baishan: Apache warrior chief.

  Ralph Sanders, Winnie, and Vernon Morris: Texas Rangers.

  José Martínez: Captain of the Rural Police of Mexico.

  John Carter: Isolated Texas rancher.

Tom Jenkins: Railroad foreman.

Episode 1

He halted his horse at the edge of the plateau, where a deep, almost vertical precipice opened up, causing vertigo if one tried to look down to the bottom. He quickly averted his eyes and gazed towards the horizon instead. Before him stretched an orange sea of plateaus of the same height as the one he stood on, and valleys connected to form the bottom of a canyon, carved over the centuries by a river that had long since disappeared.

Duke, his faithful horse, was also uncomfortable with the view and kept his head turned away to avoid the vertigo. The rider ran a gloved hand over the horse's neck to calm him, and once satisfied with the panoramic view, pulled the reins to move horse and man away from the edge, guiding him towards a rugged path that seemed to lead to the bottom of the dry riverbed.

The narrow path, also carved into the side of the plateau by weather and time, was extremely uneven and filled with loose rocks that blocked the way, requiring the utmost attention from both man and beast to avoid falling into the void.

The scorching desert sun beat down mercilessly on the rider, who protected himself from the heat with a wide-brimmed hat and a bandana tied around his neck. They advanced cautiously along the narrow path, dodging rocks and landslides that threatened to unbalance them at any moment.

As they descended the winding trail, the air grew heavier, laden with a sepulchral silence broken only by the sound of Duke's hooves striking the ground and the crunch of rocks underfoot. The rider gripped the reins tightly, aware that any slip could send them tumbling into the abyss beside them. His eyes scanned the horizon for any sign of life or civilization, but found only the vastness of the desert stretching as far as he could see.

Finally, after what felt like hours of descent, they reached the canyon floor. The dry, dusty riverbed spread out before them like a vast, desolate wasteland. In the distance, among the shadows of the rocks, the man spotted some tracks in the dusty ground and decided to approach them.

The rider halted Duke and leaned forward to examine the tracks closely. They were fresh, indicating that someone had recently passed through. He lifted his gaze to the horizon, searching for any sign of movement. Nothing stirred in the vast landscape.

He decided to follow the tracks, hoping they would lead him to some form of life or at least another person in this relentless desert. He mounted Duke again and set off in the direction of the tracks, driven by the need to find answers to the questions swirling in his mind.

The sun continued its unyielding trajectory across the sky, and the heat seemed to intensify with each step. The rider felt increasingly exhausted but forced himself to keep going, driven by the need to discover who or what had left those tracks in the desert.

He never saw where the blow came from, only heard a detonation, and that was the last thing he was fully aware of.

The man swayed in his saddle as the blow struck him violently. A deafening explosion echoed in his ears, reverberating through the canyon. The world blurred around him as he struggled to stay conscious. Duke whinnied nervously, but the rider could barely hear him over the persistent ringing in his ears.

With superhuman effort, the rider managed to slide from the saddle before collapsing onto the dusty desert ground. His vision blurred, but he could make out a figure moving around him. Instinctively, he reached for his weapon, but realized it had been lost in the impact.

The sun blazed mercilessly overhead as the figure approached. It was a small man, though he couldn't make out his face. The newcomer roughly lifted him, ignoring his feeble protests, and dragged him towards an opening in the nearby rocks.

Barely able to keep his eyes open, the injured man was taken deeper into the darkness of the cave. The echo of footsteps reverberated off the stone walls, and the air grew heavier as they descended further. Finally, he lost consciousness completely.

In his long stupor, occasional flashes of awareness brought fleeting details of the surrounding world, particularly sounds, which conjured fleeting memories of distant storms, but he soon sank back into darkness.

Eventually, a ray of sunlight on his weathered face forced him to open his eyes. He realized he was lying on the ground in the darkness of a cave, facing the entrance where the light was coming from. He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in his head forced him to lay back down on a makeshift pillow of dried herbs. He raised his left hand to touch the painful side of his head and was surprised to find it bandaged.

His mind was in total confusion, but gradually his brain began to piece together the few clues about his situation. He understood that he had been shot in the head, luckily not fatally, and that someone, possibly the shadow from his memories, had bandaged him. As he felt the bandage with his fingers, he realized it was damp, likely with blood, but the bleeding had stopped. These conclusions reassured him somewhat. Someone had taken care of him during his unconscious state and had brought him to this place, safe from the elements. He recalled the sounds of storms but noted that his body and clothes were dry.

He was deep in these thoughts when a shadow partially blocked the light from the cave entrance and approached him. Raising his head slightly despite the pain, he saw that the figure was a small man, and even though he was backlit, he identified the newcomer as an Indian.

Episode 2

The newly arrived Indian approached the man lying on the ground and, in absolute silence, took him by the armpits and with a bit of roughness, dragged him to the inner stone wall of the cave. He partially lifted him until he was sitting and leaned him against the rock. Despite some minor bruises in the process, the injured man immediately felt the greater comfort of the new position. Still unsure whether the native belonged to the Comanche or Kiowa tribe, he chose to speak in the latter’s dialect, which he knew. Thank you for helping me. The native was surprised that a white man could speak to him in his language, and after hesitating, he responded in the same tongue. You speak Kiowa? The question was rhetorical. He continued, Where and how did you learn it? The injured man answered without hesitation. My wife is Kiowa. She taught me your language a long time ago. Which Kiowa tribe is she from? Her father is Chief Dohasan. They live further west. I’ve heard of Dohasan. Great chief. My wife is his eldest daughter and his favorite. Her name is Winona, as befits the first daughter. We have a son named Chatam in Kiowa and Thomas in our language, after his father. After a brief silence, the injured man asked, Someone shot me in the head. Was it you? No, I don’t shoot treacherously. I was at a distance and the canyon’s acoustics brought the sound to my ears. I came immediately and found you lying on the ground, bleeding from your head. I brought you here on your own horse to this cave, where I have a temporary shelter. Did you bandage my head? Yes, with a shirt you had in your horse’s saddlebags. I made a bandage after treating your wound with medicinal herbs to prevent infection. I’m grateful; I might owe you my life. The wound is superficial. It didn’t penetrate the skull. The impact knocked you out. The injured man extended his hand from the ground. After hesitating, the Indian shook it.

What’s your name? the white man asked. Guikati. Guikati? That means Sleeping Wolf. But it’s a Sioux name. My mother is Sioux, but my father is Kiowa. And you, what’s your name? Buck Weston. You can call me Buck. From the five-pointed star on your vest, I see you’re a lawman. I’m a Texas Ranger. Texas? For now, this whole area is called Texas. Maybe some parts will change names later.

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The exchange between Buck Weston and Guikati revealed an unexpected connection between two seemingly distant worlds. As Buck slowly recovered from his attack, he felt grateful for Guikati’s unexpected help. They talked for hours in the relative safety of the cave. Buck shared stories of his life as a Texas Ranger, while Guikati spoke of his experiences as a son of two worlds, Kiowa and Sioux. Over time, they developed a strange bond, a mutual understanding forged by shared adversity and the need to survive in a relentless land.

As night fell over the cave, Buck reflected on Guikati’s words about the changing geography and names of the land. Texas was just a part of a vast and shifting landscape, and both men were small actors in its grand history. Yet, at that moment, in that cave, their fates had intertwined in a way neither could have predicted.

As the fire crackled in the cave and darkness enveloped the outside world, Buck and Guikati shared a moment of peace amidst the chaos surrounding them. Their lives might have been different, their paths divergent, but in that moment, they were just two men seeking refuge in each other’s company. And in that brief moment, they found a bit of calm amid the storm that surrounded them.

With dawn, a radiant day emerged over the rugged canyon landscape surrounding the cave. Sunbeams filtered through cracks in the rock, lighting the cave’s interior with comforting warmth. Buck and Guikati cautiously emerged, the former still leaning on the latter’s shoulder, breathing in the fresh morning air as they observed the horizon stretching before them.

The scenery was dazzling: rolling hills covered with sparse, sun-parched grass and, in the distance, the towering mountains reaching up to the blue sky. It was a reminder of the vastness and beauty of the land, but also of its relentless indifference to those who inhabited it.

Buck and Guikati exchanged looks, sharing a moment of silent camaraderie. Despite the cultural differences and ethnic prejudices that separated them, they had found a bond in their common struggle for survival. They looked at each other with mutual respect, recognizing strength and courage in one another.

They decided it was time to move on. Buck needed to return to his life as a Texas Ranger, and Guikati had his own path to follow in the vast frontier. They parted with a firm handshake and a few words of gratitude and respect. Goodbye, Sleeping Wolf. As Buck rode away, he looked back one last time, seeing Guikati silhouetted against the landscape, a lone warrior in an unforgiving world. He knew their paths might cross again someday, but for now, each had their own destiny to follow.

With the sun shining down on them, Buck and Guikati departed in opposite directions, each carrying with them the lessons learned from their improbable encounter. In a world full of uncertainty and danger, they had experienced a moment of peace and camaraderie, a spark of humanity amid the vastness and adversity of the frontier.

However, Buck still had to try to solve a mystery before leaving that place.

Episode 3

As he left the cave where he had recovered, he retraced his steps, seeking the place where he had been shot. After orienting himself at the cave entrance, he found the spot from which Sleeping Wolf had dragged him. There were no tracks in sight, as the storm had undoubtedly erased them, but searching behind some small rocks, he finally found clues that met his expectations. Seeing them, he sighed, as they clarified certain doubts. The tracks belonged to shod horses, meaning they had horseshoes, which excluded Indian horses. Analyzing the footprints, he was convinced they were the type of horseshoes used by white men, not Mexicans.

Apart from a general direction toward the northwest, there was no way to follow the tracks beyond the corner behind the rocks due to the wind's action. Nevertheless, Buck had made progress in forming a valuable hypothesis: the data matched what he had come to find. The tracks could belong to the stagecoach robbers fleeing toward Indian territory, led by the sinister Bryce Bart Harris.

Buck advanced cautiously, his eyes scrutinizing the ground for the faint marks indicating the horses' passage. Every time the tracks disappeared under the sand or rock, his heart pounded with anxiety, fearing he might lose the trail that had cost him so much to find.

However, Buck did not let uncertainty defeat him. With patience and determination, he pressed on, relying on his skill to interpret the subtlest clues. Every time the tracks reappeared, even if barely visible, it was like a ray of hope illuminating his path.

He moved through hills and canyons, overcoming obstacles and defying the cold wind that tried to veer him off course. Sometimes, he had to stop and backtrack to pick up the lost trail, but he never lost sight of his goal.