Some Die Young

Book 2: Man from Waco

by William W. Johnstone, J.A. Johnstone

Genres: Historical Fiction; Westerns

Synopsis

Johnstone Country. Where Freedom Stings.

They call him The Man from Waco. Jailed for a crime he didn’t commit. Freed by the judge who locked him up but needs his protection. Hunted by a rival who wants them both dead . . .

Everyone deserves a second chance. Even someone like John Bannack. He took the fall for his bank-robbing brother. Served time in a Texas State Prison. And saved the life of Judge Wick Justice when their prison wagon was ambushed. The judge was so grateful—and so impressed by Bannack—he decided to release the hard-fighting man from Waco and employ him as his own private bodyguard. And personal avenger . . .

It's an offer Bannack can’t refuse. But freedom isn’t free—and working for Justice is no picnic. Turns out the judge has an awful lot of enemies—both inside and outside the law—and most of them want him dead. The worst of the bunch is a rival judge named Raymond Grant, who hates everything Justice stands for. Especially his newly freed ex-con bodyguard. Grant wants to put Bannack behind bars again. He has the law on his side, the hatred in his heart—and the deadliest hired guns money can buy.  Even so, Bannack doesn’t scare easily. But when the shooting starts, the bullets fly—and Death comes for Justice—the Man from Waco will know the true face of fear . . .

Release date: August 20, 2024

Publisher: Pinnacle Books

Print pages: 400

Sample

“Pa,” thirteen-year-old Tommy called out to his father, who was up in the hayloft throwing down some hay for the milk cow, “somebody’s comin’ up the path to the house, leadin’ a packhorse.”

Warren Bannack straightened up and leaned on his pitchfork while he looked in the direction Tommy was pointing. “Yeah, I see him,” he answered. “And right at dinnertime as usual,” he muttered to himself. It was the time of year when the occasional drifter happened upon the path up to his house. Usually it was a cowhand riding the grub line after the herds had been driven to the railroad and he was no longer needed. And Warren would have to explain that he was a one-man farm and not another cattle ranch. It usually ended up with the drifter getting a meal before moving on. This one looks like a big fellow, he thought. I hope Kitty can scare up enough to feed him. He sighed and went back down the ladder and walked out of the barn to meet the rider. Maybe he’s not a cowhand, he thought as he got a little closer. He was leading a packhorse that looked to be loaded heavily and that was not typical for a cowhand seeking work. As the rider approached the barn, he appeared to be looking all around him as if trying to picture the entire homestead. Warren watched him carefully, thinking now he might have felt better if he was wearing his gun. The rider pulled the buckskin to a stop only a few yards short of him when Warren was suddenly struck with the realization. “John?”

“Howdy, Warren.” He stepped down from his horse and nodded to the young boy standing next to his father. “Tommy?” Tommy nodded vigorously, still in awe of the big stranger.

“John?” Still amazed by the transformation of his younger brother into the imposing stranger facing him, Warren was rendered speechless for a few moments more before he decided it was really happening. “John?” He asked again to be sure when his brother stepped forward to shake his hand. “Tommy, run to the house and tell your mama that John has come home.” Without a sound and eyes as big as saucers, the boy turned and ran to the house, only to reappear within seconds, followed by his brother and mother.

“John?” Kitty Bannack questioned as she ran from the house, still wiping her hands on her apron, also amazed by the rugged individual watching her approach. “What. . . ? How did you get... ?” She didn’t know what to ask.

“Howdy, Kitty,” John said. “You mean, what am I doin’ out of prison? It’s a long story, but I can honestly tell you that I did not escape from prison. I was pardoned by the governor himself. And before I move on, I thought I’d see how you folks are doin’. And you might hear some wild stories about me, so I want to make sure you know the truth. I apologize for poppin’ in on you so sudden this close to dinnertime, but I brought some fresh meat with me to cook. I shot a deer this mornin’, so I butchered it right away. Otherwise, I would have gotten here earlier to give you a little more notice.” He was aware that he must have changed drastically since they last saw him, judging by the four faces staring at him.

“It’s a good thing you brought a deer with you,” Kitty finally spoke. “Because I don’t think I cooked enough to feed you.” She thought about giving him a welcome home hug but decided to offer her hand instead.

“Let me unload my horses and take care of them and we’ll get some of this venison on the stove,” John said. “Or maybe we could build a fire outside and roast it? We’re gonna want to smoke most of it to eat later ’cause it ain’t gonna be fresh after tonight. As big as these two boys are, they’re gonna need plenty of meat,” he nodded toward Billy and Tommy.

It didn’t take long for his brother and his family to realize that it was indeed still John inside the prison-hardened body that returned home more than five years after leaving. He told them how he came to be pardoned after saving the life of a judge. He also told them of the possibility that it might be overturned, if another judge had his way. So they understood why he hadn’t come to stay. He was happy to see that the farm was doing well and the boys were old enough to help maintain it. He felt he could leave again with a satisfied feeling that his brother’s family was doing well and he was not needed. In fact, if he stayed, he might make his brother’s situation difficult again, just like it was when he originally left to go to prison. “I hope you’ll forgive the surprise visit, even if it is right at dinnertime. You reckon we could get Tommy and Billy to gather some wood for a fire?”

“Yes, sir,” Tommy responded. “Come on, Billy!” They ran to the woodpile behind the house to bust up some logs.

“You still got that spit in the barn?” John asked his brother.

“Yeah, we still have it,” Warren said. “We might have to burn some rust off of it, though. We ain’t used it in a long time.”

Kitty watched Warren’s reaction closely. She was well aware of the flood of guilt released into her husband’s mind upon the return of his younger brother. It had taken Warren over a year to finally remove those feelings of guilt from his everyday thoughts. She gazed at the powerfully built man now as he untied the fresh meat wrapped in the deer hide and removed it from his packhorse. Then he and Warren took John’s horses to the barn. They came back with the crude spit they had fashioned, using the metal axles and wheel rims from an old handcart. Warren was right when he said they had not used it recently. In fact, they had not used it since John went to prison. She found it hard now to envision the eighteen-year-old young man who had gone to prison for a crime he did not commit. She switched her gaze to her two sons eagerly awaiting the feast of deer meat roasted over an open flame, obviously impressed by their mysterious Uncle John. She decided then that she was glad John was not home to stay. She wanted that admiring look on her sons’ faces to be cast in their father’s direction. She immediately felt guilty for thinking it when she then thought of the terrible sacrifice John had made to keep her family intact. How could she not be eternally grateful?

Kitty was not the only one reading the faces of her family as they tended the roasting meat. Like his sister-in-law, John Bannack was studying her family’s reactions to his sudden visit. He was especially observing Kitty’s expressions and he thought he could read the deep concern in her face when she looked at her husband. He decided that it might have been better not to have come back. But it was too late for that decision. At least he had told them he would be leaving in the morning, in spite of Warren’s urging him to stay a while longer.

When the meat was roasted to their satisfaction, they took it off the spit and carried it into the house. Warren sliced it into portions while Kitty brought the side dishes she had already prepared for dinner and placed them on the table. They decided the meat was fresh enough to cook some more for supper and smoke what was left for jerky.

“You know, John,” Warren commented, “you could just stay on here with us. I hope you know you’ve always got a home here. I know the boys would be glad to give you your old room back.”

John glanced at once toward Kitty to see the immediate frown that appeared on her brow. “Well, now, that’s mighty nice of you, Warren,” he said. “But there’s some parts of Texas I’ve got a hankerin’ to see. I reckon that’s something prison does to a man. After being locked up in a tiny space for a long time, you get a need to wander.” He looked at his sister-in-law. “You can understand that, can’t you, Kitty?”

“Oh, indeed I can,” she replied. “I don’t blame you one bit.”

“Besides,” John continued, “I wouldn’t wanna run the boys outta their room. I won’t even do that for one night. I plan to bed down in the hayloft tonight.” When Kitty started to protest, John went on. “It’s what I’m used to, anyway. The whole time I was working for Judge Justice, I was sleepin’ in his hayloft. I got to where I preferred it to sleepin’ in the house.”

She met his gaze with a smile. “You’re serious, aren’t you? The judge made you sleep in the barn with the horses and cow?”

“He didn’t make me sleep in the barn,” John insisted, “he was gonna make room for me in the house. He was one of the most considerate men I ever met. But I preferred to sleep up in the hayloft. I got more room there.”

“He is almost as big as a horse,” Tommy remarked.

“Watch your mouth,” Kitty scolded. “You better show a little more respect for your uncle.” John and Warren both laughed.

“He’s right, Hon,” Warren said. “Uncle John sorta grew up when he went to prison, didn’t he, boys?”

“I don’t know how it happened when I think of the food I got in prison, though,” John japed. “That’s one reason why I can’t come back here. I’m afraid I’d get so big eatin’ your mama’s cookin’ that pretty soon you’d have to haul me around in the wagon.”

“Or hitch you up to it,” Billy commented, “and you haul us around in it.”

“I declare,” John said, pretending to be insulted, “you gonna let those boys talk to me like that?” The horseplay went on for a little while, causing Kitty to remember good times the family had before the tragedy that sent John off to the Huntsville Unit of the Texas State Prison. Even Warren was chuckling, showing her glimpses of his old persona instead of the almost constant remorse. She wished it would always be like this, while at the same time knowing that it was really not possible. John had told them of the very real possibility that he would become a wanted man, if Judge Raymond Grant had his way, and he had no intention of returning to prison. In view of that, she was determined to enjoy her brother-in-law’s brief visit.

After the long dinner hour finally ended, Warren and John cut the rest of the deer up in strips to smoke cure over a smoldering fire of some green limbs and leaves. They left Billy and Tommy to keep the fire going while Kitty cleaned up the dinner dishes and decided what to prepare for supper to go with the remainder of the fresh meat. Then Warren took John for a little tour of the farm to show him the progress made while he was away. John was impressed. “You’ve done a helluva job, Warren, you and the boys.”

Warren took him down near the river and showed him an acre-size piece of land adjoining his farm that he was in the process of negotiating with the owner of the property to buy. “Those two boys remind me of you, little brother,” Warren said. “They’re growin’ into men pretty damn fast. I’m hopin’ we can keep expandin’ the farm, so it’ll support both of them, if they have their own families one day.”

“Big brother,” John said. “That is sure enough what I hoped you would tell me when I came here today. I’m satisfied that everything has turned out fine for the both of us. The only thing I want now is for you to make peace with the past and rejoice in the fact that it all happened for the best.”

They took a walk around the piece of land that Warren was planning to buy and he told John of his intention to turn it into a cotton field. John responded with enthusiasm for Warren’s plans, although farming no longer held any interest for him. He decided then that he had made a good decision when he came back to the farm to visit Warren and Kitty. He now knew for sure that this was not the place he wanted to spend the rest of his life.

When they returned to the house after a walk of the entire farm, they found the boys still tending the fire smoking the venison. “I expect you’d best take the biggest portion of that jerky with you, if you’re gonna be travelin’ like you said,” Warren suggested.

“I’ll just take a little of it for when I can’t find something to hunt,” John said.

“Where are you goin’?” Warren asked. “You never said.”

John shrugged. “West,” he answered, then added, “toward Stephenville, I reckon, toward cow country.”

“You wanna work with cattle?” Warren was surprised. Neither he nor his brother had shown any interest in raising cattle before.

“I guess so,” John replied. He was not sure of it, himself. It was just something he thought he could do, if nothing better turned up. “I know I just feel at home on a horse.”

“Well, when you get your fill of chasin’ a bunch of ornery old cows around, you can come on back to this little farm and we’ll raise cotton and corn and beans.”

“Looks to me like you’ve got all the help you need to run this place,” John said, nodding toward Tommy and Billy at the woodpile, chopping more wood for the meat still smoking.

“It’s about time to roast the rest of that meat for supper,” John remarked. “I’d like to clean up a little before we eat, scrape some of these whiskers off my face, too. You and the boys still go to the river to take a bath?”

“Sure do,” Warren replied. “Kitty would probably appreciate it if I was to take one, myself.

When Warren announced to Kitty that he and John were going to the river to take a bath, she responded as if it was the best idea they’d ever had. “Why don’t you take the boys with you?” she suggested.

“I swear,” Warren replied, “you’d think we ain’t ever took a bath before.”

“I didn’t say you haven’t ever taken a bath before,” Kitty came back. “It’s just the first time it was your idea.”

“She’s got you there, Pa,” Tommy said. “But me and Billy go swimmin’ in the river almost every day this time of year.”

So the Bannack men walked down to the river to take a bath. John took his saddlebags with him with his extra shirt and his razor. After he shucked his dirty shirt, he soaped it up and washed it, then hung it on a bush while he cleaned himself up. He was shaving with a razor and hand mirror when he became aware of young Billy staring at him, so he playfully flicked some water at him. “What are those holes on you?” Billy asked and pointed at the old bullet wounds in his chest and side.

Hearing Billy’s question, Warren looked at John as well, just then noticing what had attracted Billy’s attention. If he had to guess, he would figure they were bullet holes, so he waited to hear John’s answer. “Just a couple of places I got poked with tree branches, ridin’ through some thick timber,” John answered Billy.

Warren realized that there was much about the time John was away that he had not shared with them. He couldn’t help commenting, “They look like bullet holes.”

“Yeah, I guess they do, at that,” John replied, leaving the comment hanging there.

“That’s because that’s what they are. Right?” Warren insisted. “Damn it, John, I’m your brother. Tell me what happened.”

John turned and looked him in the eye while deciding whether or not to explain. Finally, he said, “The one in my side was meant for somebody else. I just happened to get in the way. The one in my chest was meant for me, and the shooter’s dead now. End of story.” Warren nodded in response, knowing that was all the explanation he was going to get. When he saw Billy about to ask John another question, he shook his head at him. He knew then that there was a lot more about his brother that he was not anxious to share, so he refrained from pursuing it.

They finished their swim in the river and returned to the house to find Kitty roasting the last of the venison on the spit. “Good,” she said when they arrived, “you can take over the roasting. I’ve got things in the kitchen to finish.”

Supper that night was a repeat of the cheerful affair that dinner had been with both Warren and John recalling humorous incidents involving each other back before John left the farm. After supper, the grownups talked late that night with much of the conversation concerning where John was going when he left them. He tried to explain that there was little he could tell them because he wasn’t sure himself. “Just west,” he said. “I’ll know when I get there.”

He was awakened the next morning by the sound of Billy in the barn below him scolding the chickens for their lack of production. Having forgotten that his Uncle John was sleeping in the hayloft above him, Billy was informing the lazy hens of their disappointing lack of effort. And he was using some rather colorful adjectives in describing their performance on an occasion when there was a special guest for breakfast. John pulled his boots on and rolled up his bedroll. He strapped on his gun belt, then went to the ladder and dropped his saddlebags down to the barn below. They landed with a solid thump. “Mornin’,” John said as he slid down the ladder to land behind a startled Billy in time to grab the egg basket he almost dropped when he jumped.

“Son of a bitch!” Billy blurted before he could catch himself. “I forgot you was gonna sleep in the hayloft!”

“Sorry I startled you,” John said. “Is your pa up?”

“He’s gettin’ up,” Billy answered. “Ma’s cookin’ breakfast and she needs these eggs.”

“Then we’d best take ’em in the house,” John said and led him out the front door of the barn. When they walked into the kitchen, Warren was sitting at the table drinking coffee.

“Good morning,” Kitty said, working at the stove. “Pour yourself a cup of coffee and I’ll have you some breakfast in a few minutes.” She slid a tray of cornbread into the oven. “You still plannin’ to leave us this morning?”

“Yep, I figured I’d give you the pleasure of my company for breakfast, and then I’ll hit the road.”

“Still aimin’ to head up toward Stephenville?” Warren asked.

“Yep,” John answered. He didn’t confess that he was going that way only because he knew where the road to Stephenville was and it seemed to be heading in the right general direction. Maybe things might have changed since he was in prison, but there used to be some small cattle ranches in that area. At the present time, catching on at a cattle ranch was his only prospect. He had a little money to carry him for a while, since he had saved every cent he could of the salary Judge Wick paid him, but he hoped he could pick up some wages somewhere.

“I don’t understand,” Kitty said. “Why are you going to Stephenville?”

“I ain’t goin’ to Stephenville,” John tried to explain again. “It’s just a town on the way I’m headin’. Like I said last night, I’ll know where I’m goin’ when I get there.”

“I don’t see why you don’t just stay here until you do know where you want to go,” Kitty insisted. She was satisfied that he didn’t plan to stay with them permanently, but she didn’t understand why he was in such a hurry to leave.

He found himself running out of patience and when he glanced at the grinning face of his brother, it only added to his discomfort. “Because,” he told her, “there’s a very good chance that Judge Raymond Grant will have his way and I’ll be a wanted outlaw overnight. And this is the first place they’ll come lookin’ for me, so I damn sure don’t wanna be here when they do.”

She shrugged and made a face. “I see your point,” she said as she placed his breakfast on the table. “You’re gonna have to settle for bacon this morning, unless you want deer jerky with your eggs.”

He lingered over breakfast longer than he had originally intended, but he wasn’t sure how long it would be when he might see his family again, if ever. It was close to mid-morning when he finally struck the road to Stephenville, a small settlement almost one hundred miles away. There was a sense of sadness about leaving Warren, Kitty, and the boys again, but there was also a feeling of freedom as he struck out to the west. After three and a half days of uneventful travel, he rode into the little town of Stephenville at noontime on the fourth day. Ready to spend a little of his money for a decent dinner, he rode the length of the short main street, hoping to find a hotel or a café, but there was none. There were two saloons, however, and he wondered if one of them might serve meals. He saw that there was a sheriff’s office, so he figured that would be a good place to ask. It struck him as ironic that he would ask the sheriff, but he felt very little risk that he was a wanted man yet.

Deputy Jerry Stubs looked up from his desk when the door of the sheriff’s office was suddenly filled with the intimidating figure of John Bannack. A slight young man, Stubs was not sure if he was in trouble or not. He pushed his chair back, almost tipping it over, in his haste to get to his feet, only to find himself still straining to look the somber stranger in the eye. “You lookin’ for the sheriff?” Stubs squeaked.

“Not particularly,” Bannack replied, “I’m just passin’ through town. Never been to Stephenville before and I thought this would be a good place to ask if there’s a decent place to get a good meal.” When Stubs didn’t respond at first, other than a not-so-subtle sigh of relief, Bannack asked, “Are you the sheriff?”

“No, sir, I’m not. I’m Deputy Sheriff Jerry Stubs. There ain’t no sheriff, and I’m tryin’ to kinda watch over things since Sheriff Boswell left. As far as a place to get some dinner, the place to go is the Oasis saloon. They’ve got a good cook there, and that’s where most folks eat.”

“Much obliged,” Bannack said. “I’ll go see what they’re cookin’ today.”

“Chicken and dumplings,” Stubs said, “I just came from there not five minutes ago. That’s what Pearl cooked up today and they were mighty good.” I’d still have been there if Ace Parker and two more of that crew from The Bar-W hadn’t come in the saloon, he thought. They like to aggravate a man wearing a badge, so there weren’t no use in me giving them the chance.

Bannack walked out of the sheriff’s office and looked down the street to spot The Oasis, only a little way down on the other side. He led his horses over and tied them at the rail with three other horses. As a precaution, he pulled his rifle out of the saddle scabbard, not willing to risk the rifle leaving while he was inside eating. Moe Price, the bartender, glanced up to see the solemn-looking stranger push through the batwing doors, and his first thought was, Here comes trouble. Unfortunately, this was often the first impression for most people upon meeting the peaceful man from Waco, so Moe studied him carefully as he approached the bar. “Whaddle it be, stranger?” Moe asked.

“Howdy,” Bannack offered. “Deputy over at the jail said I could buy some dinner here.”

“You sure can,” Moe declared in relief. “We’ve got a fine cook and a special section for folks who just want to eat. We do a good business with the local folks who want to get a good meal while they’re in town.” He pointed toward the back of the saloon. “See those four tables in the back corner? They’re reserved for our food business. There’s even a back door to the outside for folks that don’t wanna walk through the saloon. There’s a customer who came in the back door eatin’ dinner right now. See that young woman and her little boy? That’s Emily Green. Her daddy owns the Rocking-G Ranch.”

“I don’t like to leave my rifle on my saddle when I can’t keep an eye on it,” Bannack said, “so I brought it in with me. Some saloons don’t like you to bring a rifle in. You want me to let you keep it behind the bar till I leave?”

“No, we don’t have no rule against totin’ guns in here,” Moe said. “Them three fellers right over there are wearin’ guns.” Bannack turned and saw three men who looked like cowhands get up from a table in the saloon and walk back to one of the four tables Moe had pointed out. They stared brazenly at the young woman.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a drink of whiskey,” Bannack decided. “I think I’ll have one drink before I eat.”

“What’s your pleasure?” Moe asked.

“Just whatever you’re pourin’ will be all right,” Bannack answered. “I ain’t much of a drinker.” He watched Moe pour it, then he sipped a taste before he tossed it back. “You know those three fellows?”

“Yeah, I know ’em,” Moe replied. As they watched, one of the men went over and sat down at the table where the young woman and her son were eating. “That big one that sat down with Emily is Ace Parker. I ain’t surprised he’d make trouble. Doggone it, Jerry Stubs was just in here a few minutes ago, too.”

“So you’re pretty sure Emily didn’t invite him to join her?”

“I’m pretty sure of that,” Moe said, and I’m gonna go see if I can do something about it.”

“Looks to me like you’re outnumbered,” Bannack said. “Why don’t you let me take care of Mr. Parker and you keep his two friends from shootin’ me in the back?”

“Mister, you’ve got a deal, because I wasn’t too confident of how I was gonna do any good.”

“All right, “Bannack said, “I’m goin’ to eat dinner.” He left a coin on the bar and walked to the four tables in the back. As he approached the young lady’s table, he heard her asking her uninvited guest to leave her and her son alone.

Ace favored her with a devilish grin and declared, “I like a woman with a little bite in her. It’s like breakin’ a buckin’ horse.” He was surprised to see her looking up past him in alarm. He turned to see Bannack behind him, like a mighty oak tree that wasn’t there a few seconds before.

“I’m sorry I’m a little late, Mrs. Green,” Bannack said. “I stopped at the bar for a drink before we ate. Did you invite this fellow to join us for dinner?”

He waited to see if she realized he was trying to help, but she was still confused. “I didn’t invite anyone to join Peter and me, and I’ve just asked this man to leave us alone.”

“That’s what I figured,” Bannack said before she had a chance to include him. “I told your daddy I wouldn’t let you out of my s. . .