The Gospel According to Colt Read online

  The Gospel

  According

  to Colt

  by W. R. Benton

  Ebook by Loose Cannon Enterprises

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the author and/or the publisher. Th is is a w ork of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events or locale, is entirely coincidental.

  Colt SAA photo by Hmaag (CC 1.0 Public domain)

  Copyright ©2016 W.R. Benton

  Author Photos Copyright ©2016, Melanie D. Calvert-Benton

  Cover layout and images Copyright © 2016 by WR Benton, LLC

  Edited by: Daniel Williams, Bobbie La Cour, and Kay King

  Sign up to our mailing list to find out about future W.R. Benton book releases.

  Western Books by W. R. Benton

  The Gospel According to Colt

  Hired Gun

  Silently Beats the Drum

  Jake Masters, Bounty Hunter

  Jake Masters #2, The General's Wife

  Jake Masters #3, The Gambler

  Buffalo Soldiers

  Montana

  See more of W. R. Benton's work of over 30 books at http://www.amazon.com/Gary-L.-Benton/e/B001JPC2EW

  Contents

  A Word from the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  About the Author

  Other Books

  Dedication

  To Juanita Duryea, a wonderf ul woman, a true Southern Belle with obvious deep beauty inside and out. No matter my day, you never fail to bring me a smile. May God reward your efforts to make others smile, one day, by making you happy forever. You deserve to be blessed for your kind and compassionate heart.

  A Word from the Author

  THE real days of the wild west were surely nothing li ke movies and most books make them out to be today. To watch a movie or read a book, one gets the impression that gunfights and fighting Indians was a daily occurrence, which is just not true. Many folks lived normal life sp ans in those days without ever seeing gun-play in a saloon, a gunfight o n Main Street at noon, or catching a fleeting glimpse of a red man. Most days, for those who lived the period, were dull and boring, not to mention most folks worked from daylight to dark on their farms or for someone else for fifty cents, or less, a day. Just surviving was difficult, because it was before public assistance or welfare, and you couldn't file for a disability check because the social security system wasn't in place yet. You worked and survived, or didn't work hard enough and died, usually during the winter when your food ran out.

  I have many folks tell me, fans usually, when we're discussing the old west, that they'd love to have lived in that period. Well, not me. While the movies and books make it sound full of action and adventure, many folks died young, many before the age of twenty. Most of the medicines we take for granted now were just recently, within the last 80 years, discovered. Illnesses that we can prevent today by immunizations were a real problem in the old west. Polio, smallpox, measles, unknown fevers, malaria, and other diseases killed many children and adults, or crippled them for life. Until the twentieth century antibiotics, aspirin, and basic inoculations as protection against various illnesses were unknown. One of the first, if not the first 'shot', was for smallpox, and it was actually just the scratching of the skin to expose the patient to cow pox. Also, until the discovery of antibiotics, it was thought that as many as 3 out of 5 men carried some form of sexually transmitted disease, which usually resulted in newborns being born blind. Often newspapers would list the names of the latest victims of illnesses that were killing hundreds if not thousands in large cities. The big ones were smallpox, c holera, unknown fevers, malaria, pulmonary tuberculosis, and many others. In the days of the old west if you lived to be fifty, you were doing great.

  Men, women, and society were much different in those days too, and a man who was a coward was soon forced to leave town. A man not only had to talk the talk, but had to walk his talk as well. Men usually settled their differences with fists, occasionally knives or guns, and rarely was there a legal battle or lawsuit over a disagreement. Men who thought they'd been wronged took the issue right to the source and didn't pussyfoot around with it. See, a man's name was important and often a fight was the result of one man insulting another man's name. Why? Well, a huge ranch or large tracts of property could change hands with a simple handshake based o n trust in the buyer's reputation —his name, if you will. Out west, few written contracts were used but of course back east, things were different; even t here a man protected his name, because it was an important aspect of his life.

  Folks lived remote in those days too, often with many miles between farms, ranches or homes. Usually they attended church, which was much more in those days than just a place to worship. A church offered a place to meet others, to gather together over potluck meals to socialize, the chance to have ice cream socials, and many a cowpoke met his futur e wife-to-be at church. Preachers were respected men and unlike today, few men of God were wealthy in the 1800s. I see many self-proclaimed men of God these days, every Sunday on the television, milking their followers for every penny, as they beg watchers to donate to the church. Som e TV evangelists are millio naires.

  When emergencies happened, and they did occur, regardless of the nature folks turned to God and prayer. They administered assistance and comfort to the ill and injured as best as they could, and then usually left it in the 'hands of God.' It didn't matter if the patient survived or died; it was seen as God's will. God's will was an acceptable aspect of life and few thought otherwise. God's will is a belief this author feels should still be a part of our dail y lives and especially with our ill society.

  This is the story of what happens when a group of toughs rape and kill a preacher's wife, along with his seven children. When traveling Baptist preacher Lew Stuart returns home after being away for a month spreading the word of God, he discovers his wife, four boys and three girls dead —killed by unknown men. The local law has no idea who has committed this terrible crime and they don't seem to be doi ng much about it, either. His livestock killed, his home gone, and his reason for living missing, he is at the lowest point in his life. Even during fo ur years of fighting for a lost cause in the War of Northern aggression, which turned him into a man of God, he'd never fallen so low. All that remained after twenty years of back breaking work was eight freshly dug graves, and the smoking remains of his home. Angered and saddened to the point that insanity was welcome, he turned to whiskey until his money ra n out. Lew kne w he needed to eventually discuss his life and future with the Lord, but it would have to wait; he had some serious thinking to do first.

  Usually a peaceful man completely devoted to his God, he figures to give the good Lord some help avenging the murder of his whole family. While most assumed him to be a meek and mild mannered man, he cannot just turn the other cheek this time, not with the killing of his family. He digs up a pair of well-worn and used Colt .44's from an old metal box in his back yard. H
e then begins searching for the doomed men. As he kills guilty men, having his revenge, he quotes scripture from the Good Book or prays for God to accept the newest soul he has just sent Him. His problem is, the last men on his list are harder to find and once discovered, they are even harder to kill. He also learns, over time, killing for revenge will not bring his family back, nor will it squash the deep pain in his heart from the loss of all he'd ever really loved—his family. Eventually, he shares the pain from the loss of his loved ones with a young man on a farm near Kansas City, Missouri.

  I sincerely hope you enjo y, “ The Gospel According to Colt ,” and if so, be sure to read some of my other books.

  WR Be nton

  Jackson, Mississippi

  15 February 2016

  Chapter 1

  LEW Stuart was a traveling preacher man, a circuit riding man of God, and while the job paid poorly, he made enough to keep his homestead improved on and to raise his seven children. At the time, 1870, he was considered low middle class because his needs were met; he had a roof over his head, and a f ull belly each night. He also had a few dollars saved in the local bank, his farm was worth good money, and his family worked hard at his side making the place productive. His children ranged from May, the new born, to Luke, soon 16. It was his wife, Edna, and his kids that gave his life real meaning.

  He had been gone for four weeks, two days and twelve hours when he topped a hill and expected to see his farm in the shallow valley below, but he saw nothing. He raised the brim of his old Confederate slouch hat and strained his eyes to see better, but there was nothing to be seen. As far as he could tell, the farm house was simply not there. It was early morning, because he'd ridden all night to surprise his kids with some small wooden toys he'd picked up in Saint Louis.

  Now Lew knew the old chimneys were fire hazards, because they were constructed of small limbs of wood, laid across each other at both ends, and often set in clay. He knew many a fire had started when the old clay would harden, chip, and expose more wood to the heat generated by the fireplace. The wood, exposed to the heat of the fireplace for months or even years was usually desert dry. Frequently, these fires happened at night, when the family was asleep, and more often than not, folks were killed or seriously injured.

  The beating of his heart increased and a deep fear for his loved ones filled his mind, as he prayed, “Please, God, let me find my family safe. I need them, Lord, and love them, as you know. If you must take a member of my family, then take me, Lord. I rarely ask you for anything for myself, but I do ask that my family be found safe, and I ask in the name of Jesus. Amen.” He noticed the valleys and low lying areas were covered in a white veil of fo g. It'll burn off once the sun comes up , he thought as he moved forward.

  Kicking his horse into a faster walk, he didn't gallop to the old place, because what had happened had happened and arriving there two minutes faster would change nothing. Riding into the barnyard, he removed his hat, and was surprised to not only see the house burnt to the ground but also the barn. Even the out buildings were gone. All that remained of both large structures were small portions of blackened lu mber that once framed the buildings. The smell of something dead filled his nose, so he dismounted, took his Bible in hand, and while fully expecting to find a member of his family dead, he moved toward the scent. He discovered both of his milk cows dead, but guessed they'd died nigh on a week back. The smell was so bad he had to cover his nose and mouth with his neckerchief. Huge green blowflies filled the air with the sound of their buzzing wings. Glancing up, he spotted vultures waiting for him to leave. He began to circle the house, looking for any information about his wife and children. He spotted old Rusty, the family dog, dead near a large cedar tree. He'd been shot to death.

  It was near the big oak tree behind the house, on a slight slope, he saw the graves. At first he stood in shock, reading each name off silently to himself, but finally collapsed to the grasses in tears as his mind refused to accept what he knew was true; his whole family was dead. He looked at the markers one more time, but not a one lived. His mind screamed as he raised his face to heaven and screeched.

  How long he remained crying he had no idea, but suspected it was overnight, because when he next opened his eyes it was morning. He heard someone calling his name, but they sounded as if they were far away and he began to look around. Tears blurred his vision.

  “Lew, it's me, Matt Davis. I happened to ride by and saw your horse.”

  “M . . . Matt . . . D . . . Davis? I know that name.”

  “I'm your nearest neighbor, Lew. Come with me and I'll take you to my place for coffee and something to eat. Are you hungry and tired?”

  “Hungry and tired.” He spoke as intoxicated or seriously ill, his words slurred.

  Helping his friend up, Matt lead him to his horse and asked, “I have the reins, but can you mount alone or do you need help?”

  “I can mount. I'm suddenly cold.” Lew said and then shivered hard.

  “It's chilly out, about 40 degrees, and it sprinkled rain a bit overnight. Back by the graves, I noticed your clothing is damp so you need some hot food and drink. I'll take you to my place where you can eat and drink, dry off, and maybe even get some rest.”

  Lew nodded, but said nothing.

  Matt had served in the war too, Northern side, and he knew his friend was in shock. He'd seen the same kind of behavior in the war after a particularly bloody battle. Some men recovered in a few minutes, others in hours, and some never recovered. He'd take Lew to his home, give him so me dry clothes, feed him, fill him up with hot coffee, and put him to bed. He knew Lucy would not object; after all, he was helping a man of God, a man of the cloth. However, the main reason he was helping Lew was he was a close personal friend and he needed him right now.

  Less than an hour later, as they sat in the small kitchen at Matt's place, Lucy asked, “Cain't you eat a little more, Lew?”

  “I'm not hungry, Lucy, really. Matt, what happened, and how in God's name did I lose my whole family?”

  “Nigh on two weeks back, oh, a little after midnight, I awoke to a loud noise in my barn. I slipped on my boots, put on my heavy coat, which had my 8 gauge shotgun shells in the pockets, and grabbed my double-barreled shotgun. It was drizzling rain and before I went out, I handed Lucy my loaded 30-30, and she's a good shot with that thing. My olde st boy, Jacob, I placed on the porch with a 10 gauge shotgun.

  As I neared the barn, I kept hearing one of my horses kicking her stall and loud cursin' goin' on inside. It was right then I realized I had horse thieves on my hands. Finally, when I was right beside the barn, I saw lantern light through a window and heard at least two men talkin'. I couldn't make out the words, but they were in English. I slipped in a side door and when I neared them, I called out, 'drop your guns, because I have a big scatter-gun in my hands and I'll use 'er too!' Well when the man on the left went for his pistol, I pulled t he trigger.”

  “How does all of this relate to my dead family? How did they die?” Lew said out of frustration, as he ran his fingers through his damp hair.

  “I'm getting there, and it'll all fit together in the end. Any who, my shotgun blast knocked both of them men to the ground, even though I was aiming at the man of the left. That ole Greener of mine has a nice spread. I blew the man on the left almost in two, but the other man lived and he's with the doctor now, charged with attempted horse theft. He's also charged with escaping a Federal prison. There'll be a trial once he heals, only he ain't goin' to jail.

  It was after I doctored the injured man, a jasper named Oaks, I walked from the barn and saw a bright light over by your place. I wanted to check on your family, I really did, but I had no idea what in the hell was goin' on. I was afraid iffen I left, some more of the men like Oaks might make a try for my place. I didn't know iffen there were more of 'em or not. It was like the days of the war, with partisans runnin' around.”

  “Did you go by my place the next day at first light?” Lew asked looking over the
rim of his coffee cup.

  “Yup, I did. I armed Lucky and my two oldest boys. I had one in the house, one in the barn and another in the loft. Once they were all settled in, I rode to your place.”

  “Well, what did you find?”

  “Lucy, fetch me a bottle of rye, so I can continue my story. She'll not be long and I suggest when she returns, you have a snort or three, too. I have some difficult things to tell you, my friend.”

  “I do not drink the water of the devil.”

  “Okay, but I didn't drink either until I visited your place that morning. I'd been on the wagon for twenty-five years, but I came home at 7 am and started drinkin'.”

  Lucy placed the bottle on the table and placed two glasses nearby.

  Matt filled his water glass full and then downed about h alf of it, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. His glass hit the table with a bang.

  “Finish your story, because I need to know what happened to my family.”

  Matt took another long drink and then said, “When I got there, the barn and house were both gone, with just smoking black wood to be seen. The first body I saw was Edna's, and she'd been raped and used hard. I guess when they tired of her, they'd cut her throat. I found your two younger girls the same way, used, and then knifed to death. June, your oldest girl had both breasts cut off. I figure the man who did it planned to tan her skin and make a tobacco pouch, like the Injuns used to do. Your baby, May, looked like someone had swung her head against something hard and her skull was bashed in.”

  “And, my boys?”

  Matt cleared his throat, took another drink, and then said, “They didn't go down easily, no sir, not a one of your boys was easy to kill. I found Mark on the ground, with a bullet to his chest, two in his belly, and there was a bloody butchers knife in his right hand. Job was laying beside an old smooth bore that'd been fired, but he was hit twice with a .44, and Luke left sign that he'd fought the men wanting to kill him. It was near Thomas, your oldest, that I counted over a dozen spent brass cartridges on the ground near his body. He fought hard and long, Lew, because I counted no less than eight bullet holes in that young man. Now, I only saw two bodies from the men that attacked your place. One man had been stabbed to death, probably by Mark, while the other had been shot by a smooth bore, which means Job likely killed him. Of course, Thomas may have injured some of 'em.”