Action Box Set: To the Gallows, Gates, and Alpha Hunter: G.S. Luckett Action Starters, #1

Acknowledgement to:

Cover Design by Joshua Minnis:

Mailto:joshua.minnis@outlook.com

Table of Contents

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Acknowledgement, To the Gallows

CHAPTER ONE, To the Gallows

CHAPTER TWO, To the Gallows

CHAPTER THREE, To the Gallows

CHAPTER FOUR, To the Gallows

CHAPTER FIVE, To the Gallows

CHAPTER SIX, To the Gallows

CHAPTER SEVEN, To the Gallows

CHAPTER EIGHT, To the Gallows

CHAPTER NINE, To the Gallows

CHAPTER TEN, To the Gallows

CHAPTER ELEVEN, To the Gallows

CHAPTER TWELVE, To the Gallows

Acknowledgement, Gates

CHAPTER ONE, Gates

CHAPTER TWO, Gates

CHAPTER THREE, Gates

CHAPTER FOUR, Gates

CHAPTER FIVE, Gates

CHAPTER SIX, Gates

CHAPTER SEVEN, Gates

CHAPTER EIGHT, Gates

CHAPTER NINE, Gates

CHAPTER TEN, Gates

CHAPTER ELEVEN, Gates

CHAPTER TWELVE, Gates

Acknowledgement, Alpha Hunter

CHAPTER ONE, Alpha Hunter

CHAPTER TWO, Alpha Hunter

CHAPTER THREE, Alpha Hunter

CHAPTER FOUR, Alpha Hunter

CHAPTER FIVE, Alpha Hunter

CHAPTER SIX, Alpha Hunter

CHAPTER SEVEN, Alpha Hunter

CHAPTER EIGHT, Alpha Hunter

CHAPTER NINE, Alpha Hunter

CHAPTER TEN, Alpha Hunter

CHAPTER ELEVEN, Alpha Hunter

Connect with G.S. Luckett

CHAPTER ONE

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Canyon Diablo, Arizona; a small dust ball in the middle of the desert they called a town. Stick-built structures lined the main street. It was not built because gold or silver was found under it. No, it had sprung up with the railway. It was the end of the line while the bridge that was to cross the canyon was being built. Most people there were workers. Some of them had family there, but others came to provide services and leisure. Of course, the unsavory characters followed like moths to a flame.

Smoke billowed from the stack on top of a steam engine. Workers unloaded train cars carrying a Wild West Show, while the announcer stood to the rear, watching. His clothing, although old west in style was very neat and clean when compared to the dirty townsfolk. A crowd gathered around him.

Come one. Come all. To the amazing Buffalo Bill's Wild West, the announcer shouted.

Men unfolded banners over the side of the train showing pictures of a cowgirl taking aim with a rifle. More people gathered as the announcer continued.

See Miss Oakley and her feats of marksmanship

He loudly cleared his throat.

Inside a cattle car at the rear of the train, sunlight passed through the gaps between the slats briefly lighting up the dark interior. Joseph, an Indian half-breed, ran a brush over his horse as the announcer’s words carried on.

Excuse me, marks-women ship, continued the announcer, there is John Roper and his lariat dance.

The sound of another banner opening alongside the cattle car could be heard. Joseph groomed his pale horse, chuckling to himself. Then the words came that made Joseph peek out to watch the crowd.

And of course, the Warrior Chief. Deadly with pistols, blades, the announcer leaned out toward the crowd, even his bare hands.

A woman from the crowd gasped. The announcer peered directly at her.

Matched only on horseback by Crazy Horse himself.

A banner unfurled against the train car. A picture of Joseph in battle dress, charging on his pale horse could be seen on the banner. A cowboy looked the banner over and spat tobacco from under his full mustache over his shoulder as he turned to leave.

Bullshit, the cowboy scoffed.

The spit hit the ground at Joseph’s feet. The cowboy stopped, startled by Joseph’s appearance. Joseph had full war paint on his face. Around his waist hung a two-gun pistol rig, two knives along his back, & a tomahawk in his hand.

Fear-struck, the cowboy backed away slowly into the mystified crowd. The announcer grinned at the perfect timing. 

Joseph Two Guns!

Joseph glanced at the announcer and hid a grin as he moved through the crowd.

Wind cut through the valley feeding the flames of the campfire below. With each gust, the fire rose showing the six bodies circled under their bedding for its heat. They all lay still in their rolls sleeping away the desert chill.

A figure watched from the shadows above the camp. Only the horses picked up the scent. They blew and snorted at the unfamiliar presence.

It was the number of horses that was unusual: eight. Six men were bedded down. The figure scanned around and abruptly blended with the surrounding darkness. Two cowboys walked alongside each other. Both men were armed and smoking cigarettes. The white of an eyeball could barely be seen as the figure watched the two sentries from concealment.

The two cowboys were the youngest of this crew; Bobby and Mearl. It figured they would get the short straw for night watch. Bobby stomped his feet and flipped the collar of his coat up to cover his neck.

This is bullshit, Bobby broke the silence.

Mearl spat some loose tobacco from his lips. He glared at his brother, silently.

Middle of nowhere, Bobby whined, and no posse is coming.

Mearl took a long drag off his smoke and blew it at his brother. Bobby coughed.

You got it all figured out, Mearl said. Just keep a’ eye out. I gotta piss.

Bobby shook his head in frustration at the order. His brothers always told him what to do. Mearl walked toward the shadowy rocks and the hidden figure. He took another pull from the cigarette and set it on a rock. Before he could exhale, his mouth was covered by the figure’s dark hand and he was pulled into the shadows.

You know, I ain’t your slave, Bobby said over his shoulder.

Bobby’s eyes scanned the canyon, waiting for his brother to snap back at him. Only silence followed. He turned to see only the black of night. Mearl had vanished.

Mearl, Bobby called out.

He moved toward the rocks. Pressing his rifle to his shoulder, he moved warily into the shadows. He spied Mearl’s lit cigarette still burning where he had placed it on the rock ledge. Bobby peered down the sight of his rifle as he searched behind the rocks for his brother. The sound of his boots crunching into the cold desert earth was ringing in his ears but he could barely hear them above his beating heart. Bobby knew something was wrong. He should have woken the others. Just as he thought to wake his Pa, Mearl came into view on the ground, face down in the dirt, and motionless.

Bobby made his way around a boulder to his brother. In that moment, he lowered his rifle. As soon as he had let down his guard, he felt the cold steel of a gun barrel at the back of his head. Bobby froze. The sound of the hammer clicking back in the gun at his neck broke the silence.

Not a sound, the man behind him ordered, or the first one is yours. At this range, there ain’t no missing.

Bobby stood still.

Lay the rifle down quietly, the man continued.

Bobby slowly stooped. The pressure from the gun barrel followed on the back of his head. He placed the rifle on the ground. The pressure from the barrel left for a split second then a thud. Bobby rolled to the dirt.

Above him stood a black cowboy in a duster. He holstered his pistol and glanced at the group around the fire. All were sleeping. He dragged Bobby over to his brother and tied the two together, pushing gags in their mouths.

The cowboy carried the outlaw brothers’ weapons over to his horse, placing them on the ground. Petting his horse, the cowboy looked at the sky.

You rest, mornings coming, he commented.

The cowboy made his way to the boulders overlooking the outlaw camp.

The light from gas lamps in Canyon Diablo glowed toward the tent city along the limits. Workmen cleared the remnants of the Wild West Show. Most of the performers had bed down, resting up for tomorrow’s performance.

A large tent still had light coming from inside. Behind its flap, the inside looked more like a cabin. It had animal rugs on the ground sheet, solid wooden furniture and a large bed. Next to the wood stove, Buffalo Bill sat at a desk writing his memoirs. His rifle leaned on the table behind him, with his hat on top.

The sides of the tent flapped with the wind outside. Bill paused to look around the tent. An uneasy feeling washed over him. His eyes stopped on his rifle. Next to it stood Joseph. He was done in war paint from his show. Joseph stepped to Bill’s rifle. Bill sat back in his chair, his eyes on the Indian.

There was a time when you wouldn't have made it through that flap without having a hole in ya. Bill said.

Joseph took a seat at the table on the opposite side from Bill.

If it were that time Bill, I wouldn't come through the flap, Joseph answered.

By all means, make yourself at home, Bill commented as he got up and grabbed his rifle and hat from the table. He moved them to a dresser and retrieved a cigar from its case.

Sounds like you believe that dung Pete spews to the crowd about ya, Bill said.

Matched on horseback by Crazy Horse? That's new, Joseph joked.

Bill offered a cigar to Joseph. He waved Bill, no. Bill sat back to the table with Joseph.

He tells them what they want to hear. You don't agree? Bill asked.

Only two men can ride like me. One taught me. He's gone now. The other ain't Indian, Joseph stated.

Well you don't want to be as infamous as Crazy Horse anyhow, Bill stated. you'd have the entire U.S. Cavalry on your ass.

Buffalo Bill lit his cigar. A plume of smoke hovered over the table.

So aside from sneaking up on an old friend, did you come for my company or do you have something on your mind? Bill asked.

Joseph smiled. Bill could always tell when Joseph wanted something and Joseph hated to ask for an advance.

I know we don't get paid till tomorrow but I was hoping to get some money tonight, Joseph said. Thought I might go to the saloon for the evening.

Bill smoked, troubled by Joseph’s request. While Bill considered himself a friend to Native Indians, he knew for most it was not that way. This town in particular was known to bring the unsavory types like bugs to a flame.

Gambling or a woman? Bill asked.

Joseph had expected this. Damn it, sometimes Bill was worse than a mother.

I thought gambling, Joseph answered.

Bill puffed on his cigar. That’s what he had been afraid of. He understood if Joseph wanted a woman but gambling meant more trouble. Joseph was a great gambler but that, along with his love for drink, usually made trouble.

And maybe some firewater? Bill added.

Joseph knew this was coming but was still pissed. Joseph never started trouble. He was just the last one standing when it was done.

Bill we have been on that train for days. I just want to be free for a night, Joseph answered.

Bill stared at Joseph in silence. He had to concede to his friend’s request. Joseph felt caged like an animal with this show. He needed a little freedom.

Buffalo Bill reached behind himself and opened a desk drawer. He took out some bank notes.

Alright, but watch yourself, Bill said as he tossed a stack of notes to Joseph. I don't want another San Francisco.

Joseph smiled and grabbed the wad of notes. He knew Bill would bring up San Francisco. Couldn’t blame him though. Most men don’t get away from a hangman’s noose. Joseph had luck on his side.

That wasn't my fault, Joseph said.

Never is, Bill said. Now, I consider that an investment at the poker table and expect repayment.

Joseph gave a nod and put the money in his satchel. He moved to leave.

Joseph, Bill called.

Joseph stopped at the opening of the tent and looked back to Bill.

I’d get rid of the war paint, he said gesturing to Joseph.

Joseph smirked at him.

You know liquor and gambling are White Man vices, Bill said and took a pull of his cigar.

Joseph pointed to the cigar.

Tobacco is the vice of the Red Man, Joseph jested as he left Bill’s tent.

Bill chuckled and tapped his ash on the ground. He felt uneasy. One thing he knew as a scout was the feel of trouble. It was coming.

The black cowboy sat behind a boulder on the rocks above the outlaw camp. He watched as the men started to rise with the sun.

The first to stir was the oldest; Gideon. He was the first to see that all but two horses were left.

Shit! he shouted.

He shot to his feet and kicked the men to wake them. The men started to move. The black cowboy stood with a rifle in hand.

Gideon Seed, the cowboy yelled followed with his rifle cocking.

Gideon spotted the silhouette of the cowboy against the boulder. He stood still, inside the sights of the cowboy’s rifle.

Everybody stop, he ordered his boys.

The men looked up at Gideon rooted in place. His younger brother Wayne spotted the cowboy among the rocks.

Gideon? he whispered.

Gideon gestured Wayne to stay down.

I think he’s alone, Gideon said.

Wayne looked to the rocks as he retrieved the revolver concealed under his blanket.

Some of you might still have some steel hidden in those bedrolls, the cowboy yelled from the rocks. If I were you I would just hear me out before any trouble starts.

As the sun rose higher, Gideon could made out that the cowboy was black.

Who are you and what do you want? Gideon barked.

The name is Cole Winters, Cole answered. Marshal Cole Winters.

The hell you say, Gideon laughed.

Cole kept his sights centered on Gideon.

I get that a lot, he said. You have a choice to make.

Getting tired of standing, Gideon said. Just come down by the fire.

Cole watched the bustling men in bedrolls armed with unseen firearms. Time for Cole to take charge and let these outlaws know he was the only law they need to be concerned with.

I suppose some of you might feel the need to jump me. Six to one does seem like good odds but I have a proposition, Cole negotiated, I left two horses. The first two of ya that tell me where the bank money is get to ride out on those horses. The rest get dragged out.

Wayne made his move. Flipping over his blanket, he drew his gun on Cole. A round tore through Wayne’s shooting arm. The other men scurried for cover. One of Gideon’s boys took up a rifle, concealed behind a large boulder next to one of the horses. Cole fired past the horse’s head. It ran in fear, pulling a rope free as it darted away. A hidden snare, Cole had prepped during the night, appeared from the ground snagging Gideon’s boy by the feet. He dropped the rifle as the horse pulled him through the dirt by the taunt line. Gideon attempted to make a move but was pinned in his spot by Cole’s rifle fire. His hands remained in the air. Cole grabbed a fresh rifle from his perch.

Listen to me, Seed. You will be the next man to fall with your brother and son. Cole shouted. You got one horse left. Who wants it?

Gideon stood, angered at the gall of this black man. Gideon and his brothers fought alongside Lee. They lost their family home because of men like this Marshal. It was a matter of principle. He had already surrendered once and had to live with it. He had to become an outlaw to take care of what was left of his family. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the rifle inches from his feet.

Cole wondered why none of these men ever went easy. Behind his boulder were firearms on every crack and crevice. He was prepped to take these men. They never went easy.

Joseph walked, staggering slightly, toward his pale horse. He untied the animal from the rail as it huffed and walked back.

Shh, Swift Wind, my faithful companion. Joseph slurred.

He stroked the horse's neck.

I believe it is up to you to get me safely back to camp, again. He said.

Joseph mounted Swift Wind and steadied himself on top. Grabbing the reins, Joseph directed the horse down the street.

Swift Wind snorted and slowed his movement.

Come on old friend. Joseph whispered to calm his horse.

Swift Wind moved down the street at a slow, hesitant trot.

Tonight was a good night. Joseph chuckled, I think Bill will be happy with his investment.

Joseph held a wad of money, looked at it with pride and then returned it to his satchel.

Three gunmen rode up on horseback, fanning out in front of Joseph. Joseph focused his drunken eyes on them and immediately knew they were from the poker table he had just left. These men worked on the bridge and had just received and lost their wages in one night to Joseph. Bale led this trinity of low life dipshits, followed by Hallwell and Randell.

I don't like being cheated. ‘Specially, by some Goddamn, Injun. Bale said.

That’s good, cause I never cheat. Joseph stated.

Bale, I think he called you a liar. Hallwell stated. He was always sure to stir the pot.

Did you call him a liar, Injun? Randell asked, trying to puff up his chest.

Bale steadied his hands to his pistol. Each of the three men shifted in their saddles. Joseph had been here before. You don’t gamble in these back water towns without getting accused of cheating. At this point, men usually weren’t looking to talk it out.

You stay with that gamble and you lose more than money. Joseph said.

He wanted to get back without bloodshed, but some things were out of his control.

All three men chuckled at Joseph.

Three against one ain't no gamble. Bale said.

The whiskey actually had calmed the tingle that Joseph felt from the expectant danger. He could see Bale had his hand on the pistol in his belt. He was the one that would make the choice of how this was to go for the other two. Randell’s lips were pursed. He was the nervous one of the trio. His white-knuckle grip on the reins of his horse told Joseph he was ready to turn tail at the first opportunity.

Then there was Hallwell. He sat on his horse relaxed with his hand at his thigh. Hard to read what he intended. Joseph knew either he was just a stupid follower, or calm because he was an experienced gun- hand.

The money! Bale demanded. I’m not askin’.

Randell’s hand trembled on his pistol grip. Joseph’s mind slowed the action. Randell was no threat. Bale’s shoulder moved. Joseph drew his left pistol and took aim at him. Before he shot, Joseph caught sight of Hallwell. He moved quick and deliberate. Joseph’s right hand pistol came out twice as fast. He shot Hallwell before the other man could get a shot off. Joseph’s left pistol shot hit Bale. Both men fell dead from their horses.

Randell quickly dropped his revolver to the ground by his friends’ bodies. His hands raised into the air.

Don't shoot! Randell yelled.

He held still, wide-eyed with fear, in Joseph’s sites. Patrons started to emerge from the saloons.

Joseph holstered his pistols as more townsfolk flooded to the streets. Murmurs could be heard about what happened. None were in Joseph’s favor. Randell decided to take advantage of the situation.

The Injun killed my partners. Get the sheriff. He yelled.

The crowd had begun to surround Joseph. He knew this was bad. The words rope and hang him came from the crowd. Joseph knew he had to retreat. Joseph leaned to Swift Wind’s ear.

You run your fastest and I swear I'll hang on. Deal? he asked his old friend.

Swift Wind fled at speed, down the street and into the darkness.

Fire illuminated Cole as he slept restlessly, positioned on a rock ledge. A shadow slithered over him.

His body jerked from a nightmare.

Cole! a woman screamed in his head.

Her voice woke him. Cole pointed his sawed off shotgun in the face of Bobby, who was looming over him.

I'm sitting on the keys, if that's what you're after. Cole said.

Cole nudged Bobby back with his barrel. Bobby sat back on his heels, his shackled hands in front of him.

Or did you just need a stretch? Cole asked.

Just a stretch, Marshal. Bobby answered with a broken voice.

I should’ve tied ya like your brother. Cole commented as he got to his feet.

Mearl was tied to the underbelly of one of the horses. His mouth was gagged. Cole walked to him and stooped by the horse.

Don’t worry. You get to ride in the saddle on the way back. Cole said.

He cut Mearl’s bindings and the shackled man hit the ground under the horse. Mearl took the gag from his mouth.

You son of a bitch. Mearl barked at Cole.

Cole turned back to Mearl who was still on his knees and looked down at him.

Be thankful you’re sitting upright, Cole said, not everyone made the right choice. Cole went to his horse for his duster.

Mearl had almost forgotten the others in his anger. It sunk in again as he looked around while the morning sun broke. Six bodies were draped over the horses Cole returned. They were Mearl’s father, uncle, brothers, and cousin.

Mearl knew this because he and Bobby had loaded the bodies onto the horse. Cole had them do this after leading him to the mule loaded with bank boxes that now stood next to the others. Mearl eyed a pistol in the dirt. Likely, it fell from one the bodies.

Cole put on his duster as he watched Mearl. He noticed what Mearl had spotted in the dirt.

I realize you may feel the need for revenge. That’s the normal response. Just remember, your family made choices too, Cole said, but they chose wrong. What will you do?

Mearl did not budge. The outline of the pistol handle in the dirt hypnotized him. The bodies of his family hung on their horses around him. His revenge was so close to him. Kill this Marshal and he would be free with the money. Cole slid his duster behind his pistol in anticipation.

Mearl! Bobby yelled.

Mearl broke from his trance and turned to his younger brother. Bobby shook his head. Cole marched to Mearl and grabbed him to his feet.

Cole rode into Ashcroft, Colorado shortly before supper. Behind him, he towed the mule carrying the stagecoach's stolen lock-box and a rope leading to Mearl’s horse. Bobby brought up the rear. Both the brothers were in chains. Six horses walked in a line between them and carried the corpses of their family members over their saddles.

Citizens on the street and wooden walkways of the buildings stared at the black cowboy riding in with prisoners and dead behind him. Cole made his way to the local Sheriff’s office. A weathered wooden building, as was most of the town. As long as it had bars, he was happy. He was dropping the Seed brothers off.

Outside the office, Sheriff Adams and his deputies saw Marshal Winters approaching their jail. Cole stopped in front of them. He knew these men. They weren’t his favorites but he was here to see the judge. Adams spit on the ground and scanned the line of horses.

Guess, you only need two, the sheriff said, thick with sarcasm.

Cole took the warrants from his saddle bag. He handed them to Adams, who gnashed his teeth at Cole. This was their dance. Adams fought with the Confederacy in the War. As far as he was concerned, Cole was no better than a horse. Cole new this but loved the fact that Adams had to take it.

Adams signaled his deputies to get the bodies and one took the warrants from Cole’s hands.

He’s in his office, if you want your money, Adams told Cole.

Cole rode to the livery across the street. After tending to his horse, Cole made his way to the courthouse. It didn’t stand out much from the rest of the wooden buildings except for the fact that it had gallows erected in front of it. The town had been expecting the Seed Gang.

Cole ascended the stairwell in the small courthouse. The hall’s thin layer of dust gave away that the Marshal’s service had to do its own cleaning. He stopped outside a door. The plaque read ‘Honorable Judge George Henley, District Court, #9.’ Cole rapped on the door.

Enter, a voice said from behind the door.

The office door pushed open giving way to a much cleaner office compared to the rest of the building.  An older gentleman, spectacles perched on his nose, sat at the desk. His attention was glued to a pile of papers as Cole entered and sat in front of the oak desk. The judge broke from his work once Cole was seated.

The judge leaned back in his large chair with his palms together and glared towards Cole. The glare broke into a wide grin.

I knew you’d find the Seed Gang, Judge Henley said. Best damn tracker I know, I told them.

Thank you, Your Honor, Cole answered as his eye looked downward.

The Sheriff suddenly came bursting the door. Before Judge Henley sat up straight, Cole had positioned himself and a chair between the intruder and the judge. Cole’s pistol was locked on the Sherriff. The Sherriff stood frozen, arms raised.

Dammit, Adams, Judge Henley yelled.

Cole relaxed, bolstering his pistol as he rose to his feet. Sheriff Adams lowered his arms and looked to Judge Henley with accusations in his eyes.

There’s money missing from the lock-box, the sheriff said.

His eyes fixed on Cole with contempt.

"Well I think they stole the money