Range war

Chapter I

It was a little past noon as the border gunfighter Reese Ryan rode into the small border town of Durango, Texas. He swung down from the saddle and tied his Buckskin quarter horse to the hitch rail and slicked his .44-40 Winchester '73 from the scabbard and sauntered into the Wagon wheel saloon. As soon as he entered everyone stared at him; for he was a powerfully built man standing at 6'4.5" and weighing 265 lbs. He had a deep brown complexion due to all of the time he spent in the sun and wind, broad shoulders, a narrow waist, shoulder length raven black hair and dark brown eyes. He wore black Frisco jeans, black tool led leather cowboy boots with large silver Mexican rowel spurs, a dark brown buckskin shirt, a black leather vest, a brace of .44-40 Colt Single Action Army revolvers in a black tooled leather two gun rig that he kept slung low and tied down, an Arkansas Toothpick that he kept in his right boot and a black Stetson. He walked up to the bar and drawled in his low gravelly voice, "Whiskey an leave the bottle."

The bartender; a portly gentleman with short thinning black hair, a bushy black mustache and watery blue eyes nodded as he said, "whatever yuh say mister."

As he waited for his drink he scanned the smoky dimly lit saloon as he rolled a cigarette. He stuck it in his mouth and struck a match off the hammer of his left hand Colt and touched it to the cigarette. When his drink was placed before him he tossed it back and was about to pour another when he spotted a strikingly beautiful woman sitting alone in the corner He had the bartender hand him a second glass and walked over and joined the woman. He asked, "Excuse ma'am d'yuh mind if I join yuh?"

The woman's almond shaped hazel eyes sparkled as she said, "Sure have a seat cowboy."

Reese thanked her as he sat down and poured them each a glass of whiskey. After they both tossed their drinks back the woman said, "My name is Amelita Barranquilla."

Reese said as he poured them both more whiskey, "Call me Reese."

Amelita nodded as she asked, "What brings you to Durango?"

Reese replied as they tossed back their drinks, "Huntin work."

Of course that wasn't the truth but she didn't need to know that. He had come to Durango hunting the notorious James Marlowe and his bloodthirsty band of outlaws. Marlowe was a feudalist from Missouri; he rode with Quantrill's Raiders as well as the James-Younger gang before striking out on his own. His second-in-command was Clint Hardcastle; he was a horse thief and cattle rustler from the Dakotas. He had killed 24 men; mostly in fair fights but he wasn't above dry-gulching somebody. Then there were the Calhoun brothers Billy and Johnny; they were half Irish and Half Apache guns for hire and sometime bank robbers from Tennessee. There was the Cherokee Kid; he was a ruthless killer from up in the Indian Nation and last but not least the Hernandez brother Joaquin, Alejandro, Carlos, and Jose; they were half Mexican Half Yaqui bandidos from Sonora. Amelita asked, "Would you like to come work for me; I'll pay top wages."

Reese had just finished rolling a cigarette as he said, "Alright."

She said as he touched a match to the cigarette, "I have to warn you a cattle Baron by the named Vincent Brody wants my land and he and his men have either killed or run most of my hands."

Reese rolled his eyes he had seen it time and time again. He asked as he exhaled a large cloud of bluish smoke, "What does the Sheriff say?"

Amelita rolled her eyes as she said, "John Weston is on Brody's payroll. But he's not the worst. The outlaw gunfighter Charlie Lewis is his foreman and Jorge Jimenez is segundo. And they over a dozen or so men just like those two."

Reese's eyes widened for he did indeed know all those names. John Weston was a stagecoach robber from Deadwood, South Dakota. Charlie Lewis and Jorge Jimenez were veterans of the Lincoln County War and the Sutton–Taylor feud as well as many other range wars. Reese said as he stubbed out the cigarette, " I reckon yuh got yoreself a hand."

She thanked him as she stood up to leave. She was almost to the door when two dirty unshaven men with deputy badges and low slung tied down guns approached her. She glared at them as one of the deputies said conversationally, "Hello Amelita. Mr. Brody would like a word with you."

She glared at the deputy as she spat, "You can tell Mr. Brody he can go to hell."

The other deputy grabbed her arm and was about to say something when Reese drawled in a low menacing voice, "Boys it pears the lady don't wanna buy what y'all are sellin."

Both deputies whirled around and fixed him with a pointed glare as the fat deputy asked in a braying voice, "Who the hell are you Mister?"

Reese drawled as he rolled a cigarette, "I'm her new hand."

The tall heavily muscled deputy gave him a cruel grin as he said, "Mister if'n I were you I'd fork my bronc an head right on outta town."

Reese touched a match to the cigarette as he lazily drawled, Well good thing I ain't you cause I'd hate ta be known as yella bellied four-flushin coward."

The deputy's face turned white with rage as his hand streaked down for the .44 Russian on his right hip; however he hadn't even cleared leather when he was staring in the muzzle of Reese's Colt. Reese said conversationally, "Mister I don't wanna kill yuh bit if'n yuh don't let go o that hogleg then by the lord Harry I'll send yuh up ta meet St Peter."

The deputy's rage quickly turned to fear; for he knew if he wanted to die all he had to do was draw his pistol. With a shaky hand he dropped the six gun back into his holster. Reese stood up and glanced at Amelita and said as he went outside, "I'll be outside when yore ready to head to the ranch.'

She nodded. Once he was outside the muscular deputy said in an awestruck voice, "I didn't even see him draw."

The fat deputy said, "It was like magic; one minute he was just a-sittin there an the next he had that Colt pointed at yore head."

Amelita couldn't help the smile that twisted her lips as she said, "Looks like Mr Brody will have a real hard time driving me from my land."

The fat deputy scoffed, "He's just one man."

The bartender gave him a sly grin as he locked eyes with both deputies and asked in a low voice, "Neither o y'all have any idea who that feller is do yuh?"

When both deputies shook their heads the bartender continued, "Why that's Reese Ryan."