A Ride to Avenge the Dead (Preview)

Prologue

Vermont, 1873

“How many times have I told you to ask before using my money?” Missy’s father roared from the kitchen.

He had been in a horrible mood since he got home earlier that evening. Missy and Lenore had eaten their dinner in silence and helped their mother clean up before escaping to their room.

Lenore looked at Missy, her eyes wide as tears spilled out. Missy patted the bed beside her. “Come here.”

The little girl jumped out of her bed, gave two steps, and leaped into Missy’s arms. Missy hugged her little sister close and prayed that their parents would stop fighting.

“We needed food,” came their mother’s reply. “The girls were hungry.”

Lenore’s body tightened in Missy’s arms. Missy hated it when her mother blamed her actions on them. Sure, they were hungry, but they hadn’t asked her to buy food and even if they did, it was their parents’ responsibility to feed them. They hadn’t asked to be born. Their parents decided to have them and buying food was a necessity, unlike buying alcohol. That wasn’t the way their father saw it though.

“You’ll buy food when I say you can. Nobody’s starving.” There was some shuffling and the sound of a cup or plate hitting the floor. “Look at all this fat on you!”

“Let go of me! You’re hurting me,” their mother cried.

Missy hugged Lenore closer to her and placed her hands over her sister’s ears. She was only seven. She didn’t need to hear their parents fighting. Unlike Missy, their parents didn’t care much about Lenore’s well-being, or Missy’s for that matter.

Something else hit the ground hard. There were scraping noises and the sound of footsteps running on the wooden floorboards. A moment later, their bedroom door flew open and their mother stormed in. Missy had been hoping that their parents would leave them out of their fight just this once but clearly that wasn’t going to happen.

“Get back here!” their father yelled, his words slurring. He wasn’t a nice man to be around on the best of days but when he was drunk, he was much worse.

“Come here,” their mother instructed as she grabbed a hold of Lenore, who clutched on to Missy. “Let go, child!”

Tears streamed down Lenore’s cheeks as their mother ripped her out of Missy’s arms and positioned her on her lap at the bottom of the bed.

“Missy,” Lenore whimpered, reaching out to her.

Anger boiled up from the pit of Missy’s stomach. She hated her parents. She never understood why they had Lenore. There was a seven-year difference between the two of them and since her little sister had been born, their parents had expected Missy to take care of her. Their father was always working or drunk, and their mother only cared about herself.

“I’m not done with you.” Their father stumbled into their room.

It was late, and the only light came from the lantern fastened to the hallway wall. Missy was sure that all their neighbors knew what was happening, and it baffled her that nobody had ever tried to help them.

Their mother cowered behind Lenore. Her exposed skin was blemished and bruised from all the previous fights. “You won’t hurt your baby girl, will you?”

Lenore’s eyes grew big as she glanced over at Missy. They both knew well enough that their father had no problem with hurting them. His big frame towered over Lenore and their mother as he advanced on them. He tripped over his own feet, and caught himself just in time and grabbed a hold of Lenore’s arm.

A loud shriek escaped Lenore’s mouth, and Missy jumped into action. She knew no good would come of her intervening, but she couldn’t just sit back and do nothing as their father wrestled Lenore from their mother’s grip. Missy grabbed a hold of his hand and tried to loosen his fingers. He was much bigger and stronger than her, but her actions had the desired effect.

With a red face, their father let go of Lenore and turned his attention on Missy. “Don’t interfere in my business!” he demanded as he slapped her across the face.

A burning sensation spread over her skin as she stumbled back. It wasn’t the first time he had hit her, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last. She couldn’t take it anymore. Things were only getting worse. In that moment, Missy saw red and charged at her father who had turned his attention back on Lenore and their mother.

Grabbing at his shirt, Missy pulled him back and, in the process, both their parents’ grip on Lenore failed. “Hide,” Missy mouthed to her little sister.

She saw a flash of red hair that mimicked her own dash out of the room. She wanted to follow, but two rough hands grabbed a hold of her, picked her up, and threw her across the room. Missy hit the ground hard and slid into the door. Her whole body ached, but she wasted no time in getting back to her feet. She knew from experience that begging him to stop would only have the opposite effect. She had to get away.

With bare feet, she sprinted down the passage, through the kitchen, and to the back door. Lenore had left it open, just like Missy had told her to do in such a situation. They had a secret hiding place in the back yard. That was where Lenore would have gone, and Missy was on her way there when her father cut her off.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked as he jumped in front of her.

Missy spun around and ran in the opposite direction. There was only one way to the hiding spot, and he was in the way. She had been thinking of leaving home for a long time, but she had always been too scared. She was only fourteen, after all, and on top of that, she didn’t want to leave Lenore behind, but in that moment, she decided that it was time.

“Come back here!” her father roared.

Ignoring him, Missy kept running. She had no possessions with her and her bare feet hurt as they hit the hard gravel, but she did not stop. Missy had never left their town, and she had no idea where she was going. All she knew was that she wanted to get as far away from her father as possible, and if that meant she never had to see her mother again, all the better.

Every few seconds, she glanced over her shoulder. Her father had chased her down the street, but had given up fast. Missy didn’t stop running though. She was scared that if she did, she would turn back out of fear for Lenore. Going back wasn’t an option.

Their house was about a ten-minute walk from town. Running at full speed, it took Missy less than half that time to reach the first store. The streets were dark and empty, the only sounds coming from the saloon further down the road. Not wanting to get spotted by anybody, Missy turned right at the first intersection then left onto the next road. She knew it would lead her past the sheriff’s office, post office, dressmaker, and eventually out of town.

She had walked down that road many times, laying out her escape route in her head. She had always pictured herself leaving, but her plans had always included a bag of supplies, a stolen horse, and her sister. Missy had none of those things with her, but she was determined to go through with it anyway.

Once she was out of town and the buildings were only specs in the distance, she slowed her pace to a fast walk. The moon was bright enough for her to follow the road that stretched out in front of her. Many wagons used that road to travel to their neighboring town, so Missy decided it was best to stick to it. If she wandered too far off in the dark, she would get lost, and that was the last thing she wanted.

By the time the next town came into view, the sun was rising, and Missy’s feet were raw. Her muscles ached and her shoulder hurt from where she had hit the floor. She smiled to herself regardless. She had made it, and she would continue to make it. She had no delusion that it would be easy, but she had heard of other people who had traveled long distances by themselves and survived. She could do it, too.

Entering the town, Missy surveyed her surroundings. The town was much like her hometown. The layout was different, but it consisted of all the same types of stores and businesses. The people stared as they walked or rode past her, reminding Missy that she must have looked quite a sight. She had on her nightgown, no shoes, and was covered in dirt. During the night, her fiery red hair had come loose and was clinging to her face and shoulders.

She was hot and sweaty, despite it being early morning, and her mouth was so dry that her throat had started aching. She needed food and water. She could try to steal what she needed, but if she got caught so close to home, there was a big possibility that they would figure out who she was and send her back. Missy wasn’t willing to risk that, so instead she decided to beg and hope that the people would be willing to help her.

Some looked disgusted, others worried, and some simply ignored her. Out of those who were worried, there were a few who gave her a couple of coins. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to afford a canteen, a loaf of bread, a box of matches, and a small gunny sack.

With her items in hand, Missy searched for a place where she could find water. As she walked, she saw a church and decided that it was her best bet. The priest at the church they went to every Sunday back home was a middle-aged man who preached about peace and love but never did anything to help her or Lenore. Missy was hoping that the priest at the church she was walking into would be a little more helpful.

There was a woman sitting at the back, praying, and the priest was sitting on a bench with a young couple with a small baby. As soon as he saw her, he got up and approached her.

“Are you all right, child?”

Missy nodded. “Yes, Father. I was just hoping to get some water.” She held out her canteen and showed him that it was empty.

The priest took the canteen from her with a frown. “It looks like you need more than water.”

“That might be true, but water would help,” she agreed.

The priest walked to the side of the church where there was a small serving table pushed against the wall. On top of it stood a pitcher of water and half a dozen glasses and dessert plates.

“How old are you?” he asked as he poured water into her canteen and handed it to her.

“Eighteen,” Missy lied. She knew she didn’t look it but wasn’t about to admit her real age.

The priest tilted his head and raised a brow. “And why are you walking around barefoot and in a nightgown?”

“I’m in a hurry,” Missy replied, ignoring his question. “Thank you for your help.”

With that, she rushed out of the church. She could hear the priest calling after her but did not stop. She had water, something to eat, and a way to make a fire. She would figure out the rest as she went.

That is how it went for the next couple of weeks. Missy walked, ran, and begged. Occasionally, somebody was willing to give her a ride, and at one of the towns, a woman had given her a pair of boots. In that way, Missy made her way from Vermont all the way into Texas.

She had stopped counting the days by the time she reached Texas. At first, she had tried to keep track of what day it was, but days had turned into weeks and weeks into months. It was as far West as she could go and although she felt relieved to be as away from her father, she was exhausted and worried about Lenore. The journey had proven to be more difficult than she had ever imagined. Her body had grown weak from the lack of food and water, and her usually pale skin had turned dark olive. Her skin peeled from the sunburn, her feet ached, and her body was at breaking point.

Her journey was far from over. Texas was a big place, and she had to find a job and a place to stay. That wasn’t going to be easy, but she was still determined to make it work. As she walked through the wilderness, Missy took in her surroundings. It was a particularly hot day, and her canteen was empty. She wanted to find a town but first, she needed to find a source of water.

Opening her canteen, Missy held it above her mouth, hoping for a few drops. There was nothing. She licked her cracked lips and placed the canteen back in her gunny sack.

Her head was pounding, and she could swear she was walking in circles. It was hard to tell since everything looked the same but the rocks she had just passed had the same marking on them as the ones she had passed only a few minutes ago.

Taking a deep breath to steady her racing heart, Missy planted her boots in the sand to steady herself. Her throat was aching from not having had anything to eat or drink and her stomach contracted violently. She fell onto her knees and gagged but there was nothing left in her stomach to throw up.

Missy’s head pounded and she felt dizzy as she pushed herself back to her feet and started walking again. She didn’t get far before her vision blurred and her legs gave in underneath her.

Chapter One

Tombstone, Texas, 1880

Sheriff Justin Pierce chuckled as his son, Freddie impersonated Deputy Matthew Williams who was a great lawman and an even better friend to Justin and his family. Justin had taken Matthew under his wing and taught him everything he knew. He was truly a good man, and Justin hoped that Freddie would grow up to be like that, too.

Freddie was only twelve, so he still had a lot to learn, but he was smart and tough. Justin didn’t wish for his son to follow in his footsteps. Being sheriff was an honorable job. It was also dangerous, and with Freddie being mixed race, Justin and his wife, Harmony, had done their best to protect him from judgment. The folks of Rio de Roja respected Justin, so they accepted his wife and son, but outside of his town, mixed race people weren’t very welcome.

“Why are you teaching me to shoot if you want me to be a farmer?” Freddie asked, eyeing the rifle in Justin’s hands.

“Because it is necessary to know how to protect yourself,” Justin replied with a smile. “And hunting is a valuable skill.”

Freddie frowned. “I don’t like the idea of killing animals.”

“Do you like the idea of starving?” Justin asked, raising a brow.

“No.” Freddie shook his head. “But I’d much rather somebody else do the hunting.”

Justin looked at the empty tins he had set up on their wooden fence. “I hope you never have to hunt then, but I’d feel much better if you knew how,” Justin replied. “How about you humor your old man and let me show you?”

Freddie nodded. “As long as I’m shooting at tins I don’t mind.”

Justin laughed at his son’s wit. “All right, let’s do it.”

Holding the rifle, Justin led Freddie to the other side of their backyard. They lived in a simple three-bedroom house. Justin had bought it years ago and together, he and Harmony had turned it into a loving home. Their yard, unlike their house, was big and surrounded by lush greenery. It was the foliage and trees that had attracted Justin to the house in the first place.

Harmony was standing off to the side, watching the two of them. She had on a simple white and green dress, and her dark hair was tied into a low bun. She was never the type of girl who cared much about how she looked. She always cared more about taking care of others and making sure that the people she loved were happy. To Justin, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. She appreciated the simple things, and even after years of marriage, she still caused his heart to race

“I’m going to head inside and prepare dinner,” she informed them. “I was thinking I’d make roast chicken, with mashed potatoes and vegetables.”

Justin’s stomach rumbled at the idea. “That sounds delicious.”

“I thought so too,” she said with a laugh. “And maybe I’ll make an apple pie for dessert.”

Freddie’s eyes grew big as he swiveled to look at his mother. “Please make one, Ma.”

Harmony shrugged. “How about this. I’m going to watch y’all from inside, and if you can hit three cans, I’ll make a pie.”

“Sounds like a fair deal to me,” Justin replied. “I’d take it if I was you.”

“You think I’ll be able to hit three?” Freddie asked as he turned his focus on Justin.

“If you don’t, it’s on me and I’ll bake you that pie myself.”

Freddie laughed. “Well, in that case I’ll accept your bet, Ma.”

Harmony shook her head in amusement. “Just be careful,” she said with a smile and headed inside.

Justin watched her as she walked away. She was stunning in every way. He hadn’t been looking for a wife when he had first met her. He was still young and focused on his career, but as soon as he had laid eyes on her and heard her laugh, there was no looking back. They had gotten married a few short months later and soon enough Freddie had arrived. Harmony didn’t have any family left after escaping a plantation, and seeing her hold their little boy had caused Justin to feel emotions he never knew existed.

“How about over there?” Justin asked, pointing to a big tree that had fallen over in a storm years ago.

Freddie nodded, and together the two of them crouched behind it. Justin glanced at the house and saw Harmony watching them from the kitchen window. She blew him a kiss and let the curtain fall into place before he could return the gesture. With a smile etched on his face, Justin took the ammunition from his pocket and showed Freddie how to load the rifle.

It was truly a perfect day. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, and they were surrounded by green foliage and blossoming wildflowers. Spring had come early, and he was looking forward to many more days like that. It was the Lord’s Day, and he was enjoying spending it with his family. The next day, he would go into the office and speak to Matthew. Justin was ready to step down as Sheriff and hand the reins of Rio de Roja over to his deputy.

For a forty-five-year-old man, Justin was still in good shape. He felt healthy and strong, and even his doctor had confirmed that he was in better shape than some of the younger men in town. Physically, Justin could carry on his duties as sheriff, but his heart wasn’t in it anymore. He loved his town, but he was desperate to spend more time with his family. He was always so busy, and it felt like he was missing some of the most important moments of his life.

He would still be around and would happily assist in giving Matthew advice and a helping hand occasionally, if needed, but he was confident that his deputy was more than capable of taking care of the town. He had spoken about it to Harmony who had always supported him in everything he did. She was a little surprised, but excited by the idea of Justin being around a lot more.

Although they weren’t rich, Justin had saved up enough for a comfortable retirement. He was pretty sure that he wouldn’t just be sitting around doing nothing the whole day. Justin liked being busy, and since they had some land at the back of their property, he might take up some small-scale farming or try his hand at woodwork.

Justin pushed his thoughts aside and focused his attention on Freddie. He had a lot to think about but in those moment, all he cared about was spending the rest of his life with his family.

“Hold the rifle like this,” Justin instructed, demonstrating how to hold it before handing it to his son.

Freddie did as he was shown, holding the rifle in place with his left hand while balancing it on the fallen tree. The index finger of his right hand dangled just in front of the trigger.

“Now, take a deep breath, aim at the target you want to shoot, and pull the trigger.”

Freddie nodded and took a deep breath. Justin focused his eyes on the row of tins, hoping his son would hit one of them. A loud shot rang out in the air around them. Something wet splattered onto Justin’s face and he reached to wipe it away on instinct. His hand came away red. It was blood. Confused, he looked over at Freddie, but his son wasn’t crouched beside him anymore. Instead, his lifeless body laid sprawled out between the green grass.

 

Chapter 2

Justin stared at his son in disbelief as blood ran from the small hole in the center of his head. The rifle he had held in his hands a moment ago laid next to him. Justin’s body felt numb. The only part of him that was functioning was his racing heart.

Another shot rang out. This time the bullet hit Justin. It entered his upper left arm, just below the shoulder with such a force that he nearly toppled over. He barely felt it, though. His mind was reeling as he tried to wrap his head around what had just happened. Slowly the reality of the situation sunk in, and he raised his head to survey the area. It didn’t make any sense, but somebody was shooting at them, and he needed to figure out where the bullets were coming from.

Maybe it was a hunter who was new to the area and didn’t know they lived out there, or possibly an angry bandit who had escaped prison. It was the only two possibilities going through Justin’s mind. His family got along well with everybody in town, after all.

The image of his son’s lifeless body was stuck in Justin’s mind as he pushed himself to his feet. His body felt heavy, and his feet were unsteady beneath him. In the back of his mind, he knew that he had been shot, but at that moment, he felt nothing. The shock of what had happened was steadily being replaced with anger. Whoever had shot at them was going to pay.

Turning around, Justin saw the sun reflect off the glass scope of a Sharps Rifle. Holding the weapon was a man, bent down on one knee and aiming directly at Justin. To Justin, it felt like time had slowed down, but at the same time, everything was happening so fast. Justin wanted to react. He wanted to charge the man, but instead, all he could do was watch as the shooter fired again.

This time, the bullet hit Justin in the chest, right below his collarbone, causing him to stumble back, lose his footing, and fall to the ground.

***

Glenn Vance watched as Sheriff Pierce hit the ground. Satisfied, he got to his feet and reached for the cigarette in his mouth. He tossed the ash to the side, placed it between his lips, and inhaled deeply. The tall man had fallen hard and was still writhing around. Glenn exhaled, looked to the window where he saw movement, and took another drag.

It had been a long journey to get to Rio de Roja, but things were finally falling into place. Glenn was far from his hometown in Scotland, but he was ready to create a new home for himself and his men. A place where they could live freely and be themselves without judgement. He was looking forward to not only overseeing a gang, but an entire town. He could mold it exactly the way he wanted, and he would never have to worry about fleeing again.

Being a wanted criminal and living on the run wasn’t an easy life. At the young age of seventeen, Glenn had murdered a priest in his hometown and since then he had been running. He had never set foot back in Scotland, and he wasn’t ever planning to. He had no idea what had happened to his family, and he didn’t care. They never loved him. His parents had always seen everything he did as wrong. He had never been good enough for them. They wanted him to follow in his father’s footsteps, but Glenn had a mind of his own.

Sure, he wasn’t the easiest kid, but they were supposed to have his back. Instead, they had turned to the local priest for help. Glenn, who had always been and still was a devout Christian, had attended church with his family every Sunday so when the priest had requested to talk to him, he hadn’t thought it strange.

It had been an attempted intervention. The priest had wanted him to stop getting into trouble and live a Godly life. Glenn didn’t like being accused of being ungodly. He hated it when people tried to tell him how to live his life and what God wanted from him. The Bible was full of violence, and the people he hurt had always deserved it. In his heart, he knew that God loved him just the way he was.

Glenn had gotten angry. One thing had led to another and within seconds, he had stabbed the priest to death with his pocketknife.

Glenn wasn’t sure what made him think of the priest at that moment, but having driven a knife through the old man’s heart had brought him undeniable joy. He hadn’t been as clever back then as he was now and since it had been his first murder, he had panicked. It hadn’t taken long for the lawmen to come for him, and he had fled.

Scotland was a big country, but it had felt like the walls were closing in on him. He had moved from one town to the next until he had found his way to America. Coming to America had been the greatest decision he had ever made. It hadn’t been easy, and he had done many things to survive over the years, including murdering more men. But  Glenn had found a place where he could reign, and he and his men could live the life they wanted.

Glenn took another drag of the cigarette and tossed the butt aside. “Let’s move in,” he instructed his men. They had a lot of work to do, and he was eager to get to it.

***

“Cover me!” Justin yelled, glancing at the window from where he laid. He knew Harmony would be watching and listening.

He had to get inside, and on his way, he needed to grab his rifle. To his relief, Harmony almost immediately started firing from her spot in the window. She must have already retrieved her rifle before he even asked. His wife was a real fighter. He knew he could rely on her.

From behind the man who had shot Justin, a growing number of men on horseback approached, making their way past the shooter and kicking up the dust behind them. They were all dressed in black and looked like the riders of the apocalypse. In many ways, they were.

The pain from the bullet wounds had set in, and Justin’s whole upper body felt like it was on fire. Somehow, he managed to push himself to his feet. His rifle still laid in the grass next to Freddie’s dead body. Stumbling, he turned around, bent down, and grabbed it with his right hand, leaving his left arm to simply hang by his side.

A strangled moan escaped Justin as bile rose in his throat. He nearly fell over but steadied himself using the rifle. From behind, he could hear the men on horseback approaching. He didn’t look, instead, he rushed toward the house. He could see Harmony shooting, and hear her urging him to hurry.

Bullets were flying around him, and just as he was about to step through the kitchen door, one hit him in his left thigh. Unlike the first two, the pain was instant and brought him to his knees. Reaching forward, he grabbed the wall and pulled himself and his rifle inside. Using his good leg, Justin kicked the door closed and crawled over to Harmony.

Wood splinters flew around them as bullets penetrated all sides of their house. They were surrounded.

Rushing toward him, Harmony helped Justin to his feet and crouched in front of him. She grabbed a cloth from the kitchen counter next to them and tried to tie it around his leg.

“We don’t have time,” Justin said through clenched teeth. “We have to fight.” There was no point tending to his wounds while they were under attack. They had to make sure they survived, then they could worry about his injuries.