Deadly Dunstone
by
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As they pushed open the swinging doors, Lance could feel that something was wrong. A group of people were lined up against the wall to his right. Glancing to his left he saw big Bart Savage standing with a bullwhip in his hand. Bart was a big man. He stood six feet two and weighed at least two hundred and forty pounds. Standing in front of Bart was a small poorly dressed drunk. His clothes looked like they were about to fall off of him they were so old. They were wrinkled like he had lived in them for a month without washing them. His face was stone gray and he was shaking like a leaf. "Dance, you drunk", snarled Bart as he cracked the whip at the drunks feet. "A-A-A-A-A-H", groaned the drunk as the whip bit into his leg just above his boot. Bart drew back the whip to strike again when Lance spoke. "Put the whip down, Bart. Leave the man alone. He’s not bothering you. You're just trying to pick on someone smaller than you." Snarling, Bart turned and drew back the whip. "This drunk won't leave me alone. All ways wanting me to buy him a drink. I'll teach you to butt in where its none of your business. I'll whip you to a pulp. Then we'll see if you want to barge in on anybody else when its none of your business." Before he could crack the whip Lance had moved to Bart. As the whip came forward, Lance buried his fist in the big mans gut. "O-o-o-mph", grunted Bart as he fell backwards toward the floor. The whip fell harmlessly to the floor behind Lance. Bart hit the floor with a thud and sat there holding his stomach. His face turned red from embarrassment of being knocked to the floor and from the loss of oxygen as he tried to regain his breath. Seeing Bart on the floor Lance and Pete thought the episode was over so they turned their back on him and strode to the bar. They ordered whiskey and the bartender started to pour it. Suddenly the bartender dropped the bottle of whiskey and reached under the bar. Pulling out a sawed-off shot gun he leveled it toward the rear of the saloon. "Better not", he yelled, "I'll blow you away where you sit. You're not going to shoot any one in the back in my saloon. What you do outside is your business." Lance turned quickly, his right hand streaking for his gun. He dropped into a crouch as his forty-five cleared his holster. His left hand was pulling back the hammer ready to pull the trigger. Suddenly he stopped. He saw Bart sitting on the floor with a gun in his hand. He had it pointed straight at where Lances back had been only a few moments before. Slowly Bart lowered his gun and placed it in his holster. "I'll get you," he growled at Lance, "I'll catch you when you don't have people interfering. You'd better always be prepared because I'll get you when you don't expect it." "I'm scared to death", replied Lance. "You'll have to shoot me in the back because you're too yellow to face me face to face." "I'll show you who's yellow", yelled Bart. He jumped up from the floor and charged Lance. He was so mad he couldn't see straight. Just as Bart reached him, Lance stepped aside and slammed his fist into Barts face. Bart stopped and growled, shaking his head. He charged Lance again. This time Lance kicked out with his right boot, striking Bart in the knee. With a groan, Bart dropped to the floor like he had been shot. Holding his knee he rocked back and forth on the floor. "I'll get you," he gasped, "If its the last thing I do. You can't run far enough to get away from me. I'll find you and make you regret this day." Picking up the whip Lance drew it back. With a flick of his wrist he sent it hissing through the air. The tip hit Bart on the uninjured knee. Bart almost passed out with the pain. His eyes got bigger and bigger as Lance walked toward him. "This'll teach you to pick on a poor defenseless man. Next time it'll be worse. So if you want to fight, find some one your size." Pete stepped up to Lance and took his arm. "Lance, he is not so big now. He always wants to have the upper hand. I have seen some people like this where I came from. Once someone stands up to them they back down. Leave Bart alone now. He is just a big bully. But you will have to watch your back for awhile." Throwing the whip on the floor beside Bart, Lance turned and walked toward the old drunk. He was sitting on the floor rubbing his leg where Bart had hit him with the whip.
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About the Book
Lance Wilson is a hard working cowboy that happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He is robbed at gunpoint on the way home from town. He has to walk several miles in cowboy boots that are not meant for walking. He gets chewed out by his boss for being late for a cattle drive. He helps a young cowboy grow up, even though the young man doesn’t want help. He recalls a story of a friend that was attacked by Indians and loses all of his family. But later his friend hears that his daughter is alive and together they find her and are reunited. Later, on a trip to town he witnesses a murder. He saves a drunk from a bully but becomes a marked man himself. Lance is very excited as he rides on a train for the first time. Because Lance witnesses the murder, he is asked by the sheriff to become a deputy. Upon approval by his boss, he agrees. In their investigation he is sent to another town to check leads and helps find a person left for dead in a gold mine. He gets shot at, wounded in the line of duty and almost dies. He helps a damsel in distress rescue her business and her parents. He helps console a friend whose former girlfriend has her husband brutally killed in a card game. Along the way, he finds his first love and struggles until they are wed.
About the Author
I was born in the low country of South Carolina about fifty miles from the Atlantic Ocean, the second oldest of nine children. My parents were hard working farmers. My mother worked hard in the fields just as my father did. They gave me love and stability. They taught me that hard work never hurt anyone. They taught me that you should work hard, take care of your family and be in church with your family on Sunday. After high school, I attended college for three years before marrying and starting a family. I am a sixty-two year old man, retired after working thirty-five years for one company. About ten years ago I felt I wanted to do something else in life so I started to write a book to prove to myself that I could do it. I have written several but this is the first novel I started ten years ago. Writing is good therapy, as I love to sit down at a computer and write to relieve tension. I hope you get pleasure from reading the book, because I loved writing it.