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    Tennessee Kyle
    Tennessee Kyle
    Tennessee Kyle
    Ebook196 pages3 hours

    Tennessee Kyle

    By Joe Bob Newman

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Amos Kyle has spent a grueling six months deep in the mountains of Mexico working his gold mine. He is on his way out when he spots two men riding towards him. They hail him and he stops to greet them. Finding out that the are "stand up" men, he follows them to their camp. Amos meets their families and spends two days with them. Amos is surprised when he becomes attached to the two families, but after two days he has to leave. He travels about five miles when he hears gun shots behind him. He hurries back, only to find the camp being attacked by ten men. Finding a high spot he begins picking off the ten bad guys and soon they are on the run. Venturing into camp he finds everyone dead but one person. Libby's wound is bad, Amos must get her out of Mexico and to a doctor or she will die. Follow Amos and Libby as they flee the men and Mexico.Amos Kyle

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJoe Bob Newman
    Release dateApr 22, 2017
    ISBN9781370260676
    Tennessee Kyle
    Author

    Joe Bob Newman

    I have been writing mystery and fiction books since 1982. I have never considered having any published until now. My career has been in writing technical documents for the defense industry. By profession I am a mechanical engineer, P.E. I have six grand children.. During the summer months, I spend a lot of time in the mountains of New Mexico. Watching wildlife and observing the ecology. i also enjoy riding my 4-wheeler. I built a cabin by myself, just above a stream filled with trout, perhaps i should say am building, I have been working on it for twenty years and it is still not finished, but it is livable, it has electricity, running water and a septic system. With that, I am happy to live there in the summer months and for a week or two in the winter, but I have found that I am not much of a "snow" person.I do hope you read and enjoy my books as much as I enjoyed writing them! Thanks for visiting my page.Joe Bob Newman

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      Book preview

      Tennessee Kyle - Joe Bob Newman

      TENNESSEE KYLE

      A HUNDRED YEARS AGO

      JOE BOB NEWMAN

      TENNESSEE KYLE

      Copyright 2017 © Joe Bob Newman

      Cover Design by: Laura Shinn

      Edited by: Nick F. Bowman

      Published by: Smashwords.com

      License Notes:

      All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above copyright owner.

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

      This book was written, edited, printed and published in the USA.

      TENNESSEE KYLE

      Other Books by Joe Bob Newman:

      The Craft (Science Fiction)

      When Time Stood Still (Science Fiction)

      Phantom Canyon (Western)

      The Rig (Action/Romance)

      The Executive (Action/Romance)

      Cabin Fever (Action/Romance)

      Cabin Cruiser (Action/Romance)

      One for the heart (Action/Romance)

      Mystic Moon Man (Action/Adventure)

      Lady Texas Ranger (History/Action)

      The Alamo (History)

      Texas Football: The Lone Star of Texas (Sports)

      In The Dark of The Night (Suspense)

      Bad Decision (Action/Suspense)

      CIA - The Slave Traders (Action)

      The Old Bull (Action/Romance)

      A Really Bad Day (Mystery)

      These books are available as eBooks at:

      Smashwords.com.

      TENNESSEE KYLE
      THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO:

      Nathan Lowell Hackler

      Nathan is my youngest grandson!
      He is a straight A student in the fourth grade.
      He likes playing baseball and riding my 4-wheeler.
      TENNESSEE KYLE
      Characters

      Amos Kyle American from Tennessee

      Lucas Bishop White man, Amos’s friend

      Texas Bob Lucas’s partner

      Libby Bishop Lucas’s wife

      Katy Bob’s wife

      Thomas Bishop Lucas’s oldest son

      Wilbur Bishop Thomas’s brother

      Cisco Kid Real name - Ronald

      Black Jack Ketchum Famous gunfighter

      Ned Styles Man with wagon in Del Rio

      Suzanne Kyle Amos’s youngest sister

      John Kyle Amos’s oldest brother

      Peter Kyle Amos’s deceased brother

      William Kyle Amos’s brother

      Cynthia Kyle Amos’s sister, married to Seth Reagan

      Marina Kyle Amos’s sister, married to Hugh Setters

      Timothy Dalton Suzanne’s courter, cousin of Frank Dalton

      Clinton Ketchum’s hired hand

      Frank Dalton Famous US Marshal

      TENNESSEE KYLE

      It was late in the day as I was riding out of the mountains in old Mexico; I had been riding for about eight hours now. I had two burros behind me. They were barely loaded. I had taken two months’ worth of supplies into the mountains but had stayed nearly six months. I had lived off the land and what I could kill, which wasn’t much. The biggest animal that I had killed was a bighorn sheep. I had just shot the one and then had shot several antelope and deer. My mainstay had been rabbits, quail and other small game that I could trap or shoot at close range. For the last month, I had eaten nothing but meat and my system was acting up.

      I rode on down the trail. It wasn’t a trail made by people but one made by animals. I wasn’t sure which animals. I had to dodge sharp rocks, all kinds of cacti and large mesquite bushes. The trail was narrow and I had to duck often to avoid low-hanging branches. This was not the way that I had come into this area, but for whatever it was worth, it was the way that I was leaving.

      I wasn’t sure of the exact date but I knew the year was 1883 and was guessing that it was early October by the way the weather was acting. I had six pouches of gold that I had divided up and hidden on my horse and the two burros. Each pouch had about a pound of gold in them—not much to look at, but at the latest rate for gold a sizable amount of money. The price of gold when I had left Texas was eighteen dollars and ninety-four cents an ounce. I was hoping that it was above nineteen dollars now.

      If I could have just hit the mother lode, I would be rich, but so far I had only found some small nuggets and plenty of flakes of placer gold. I was certain that I had been on the trail of the mother lode a number of times but they had all turned up dead ends. I had finally given up and decided that it was time to leave. I could always come back; I had hidden the entrance to the mine and was certain that no one would find it. Of course, that is how I found it; I was certain that whoever had mined it before me had felt the same way. Someone else had been digging there and had hidden the entrance. I had found it quite by accident, maybe by divine intervention. I had just followed the small seep of water and had dug out the shallow entrance. I covered up the entrance such that it looked the same way that I had found it. Then, I had wiped out all my boot prints with a mesquite branch. Mexico didn’t allow foreigners to make legal gold claims. If anyone found my mine, it would be theirs by Mexican law. I would have no rights to it.

      My mother had taught me the good book, but it was still up in the air whether I believed it or not. It sounded good, almost too good. It hadn’t helped any that our priest had molested one of the young boys in our parish, at least one that I knew of. Things like that were hidden well. The boys were often blamed and more often were accused of not telling the truth. The priest had never touched me, but I didn’t like the way that he looked at me. Truth was, as a boy, I was afraid of him. Anyway, at my age now, I was afraid of very few things, and even fewer men. I was a loner and didn’t need anyone else. I had just proved that for the last six months. Going that long without being around a woman had been difficult. That was one of the things that I planned to correct when I got back to civilization. The truth was, there were a lot of things that I intended to correct, that is do, when I got to a reasonable-sized Texas town. Most of them had to do with whiskey. Okay, whiskey and women, that was what most men thought about.

      Nuggets brought the most money; they were selling for about three times what placer gold was selling for. When I got back to Texas, I would be rich, at least for a little while. Gold did weird things to men—it made many crazy and had gotten even more killed. I planned on living, so had hidden my gold well and didn’t plan to tell a soul about it. There was an old saying; money would burn a hole in most men’s pockets. That meant that they couldn’t wait to spend it or lose it. I was trying hard to not be one of those men.

      The horse that I was riding and the two burros were old and not of much value. I planned to trade them in on a decent horse and a saddle at my first opportunity. I also planned on new, clean clothes and a brand new pair of boots, not to mention a new Stetson hat. My hair was long and unkempt and my beard was ragged. I needed a bath, a haircut and a shave in the worst way. Once I had gotten out in clean fresh air, I realized just how dirty and grimy I really was. My mother would shoot me for being this way. My mother was a stickler for cleanliness; she instilled it deeply in each of us children.

      I was looking for a road or a trail that would take me back to Texas. In six months, the desert had changed—or maybe it was my memory that had changed. Things looked different. I was tracking the sun and I knew which way was north and east. If I went either way, I would find the Rio Grande River. I had to say that I didn’t like being in Mexico; the Indians and Mexicans all seemed to have it in for me and every other American. They didn’t like us, and I didn’t blame them. As I had been well hidden, I had not had too much of a problem. The Mexicans and Indians had, for all practical purposes, left me alone. I had not seen another human being up close in the last six months. It had helped that I stayed in the tunnel during the day time, only coming out at night to get water, occasionally to bathe and check the animal traps that I had set. There was no doubt about it: being scarce had saved my life and my scalp.

      The sky was clear and I could see for many miles in every direction except behind me. The mountains behind me were large and full of ragged peaks. I was coming out of the mountains, due south of the dip in the Rio Grande. I wasn’t quite sure where I was at on the map; the maps of Mexico weren’t too accurate. I didn’t know it but I was due south of the American National Park that would one day be called Big Bend. The mountains were a rough place to be, and usually only the Apaches ventured into them. There wasn’t much game or food of any kind. I avoided the Apaches. They were a sneaky bunch of savages and I wasn’t going to lose my scalp to them if I could help it. As I rode on I noticed something moving in the distance. It turned out to be two things: men on horseback. There was no one that I wanted to meet out here; everyone would likely want my gold or my scalp.

      I could see the two men coming at me for several hours before they got to me, they had changed course to intersect me, not a good sign. At first, I wanted to hide, but I stopped, got off my horse and waited for them. I checked both my six guns and my rifle; they were loaded and ready to shoot when I needed them. The two men came into sight on the other side of the canyon. I waved and they waved back. For the first time, I realized something important. They had no extra grub or supplies—not a good sign. However, they could have a camp nearby, or heck, they could live near here. They weren’t Mexicans; they were white men, and they were both carrying a full armament of guns—not surprising out here.

      They stopped in front of me and the lead man spoke. Lucas Bishop, this is my partner Texas Bob. He don’t speak much; the Apaches cut out his tongue.

      I nodded. Amos Kyle, from Tennessee. I am going home. Was looking for gold, didn’t find any, and ran out of grub.

      Lucas grinned. We have a camp about a mile from here on the Las Neches River. We got two women and four sons there. You’re welcome to come eat with us and spend the night.

      I breathed a sigh of relief. These men didn’t appear to be side-winders; they were stand-up men. I smiled. That would be a pleasure; I haven’t had a woman-cooked meal in six months. Truth was, I hadn’t seen a woman in six months.

      I got back on my horse and rode alongside the two men. I noticed that they never let me get behind them—a good sign that they were smart men. They picked their way through large shards of broken rock. A fall here could stove up a man bringing on the grim reaper. They rode slowly and carefully—another good sign of smart, careful men.

      Lucas was a good-looking man, about thirty-five. He had several days’ growth of whiskers on his face. I couldn’t see his hair; his hat was pulled down low over his eyes. His eyes were clear, as was his complexion. His clothes were old but clean and well taken care of. His boots were scuffed but were in good shape. He wore leather chaps and had on a long-sleeved shirt. He didn’t wear an undershirt.

      Texas Bob didn’t appear to be as tall as Lucas, but looked like he had fifty pounds on Lucas. His clothes were also old but well taken care of. His face was clean-shaven and he appeared to be bald-headed. I couldn’t tell much about him. I wondered if he had been scalped or just lost his hair naturally. I also wondered about his tongue. So far, he hadn’t said a word to me. They were good men and I was right happy to be with them.

      As I said, my name is Amos Kyle; I am one of seven brothers and sisters. There were four of us brothers and three sisters. I left Tennessee in eighty-one when I got on the wrong side of the law. Nothing serious; I just killed a man in a fair gun fight over a woman. After all was said and done, she wouldn’t have anything to do with me, so I left. I really miss my family. I hope to one day get back and see them, especially my sisters. I am the baby of the family, so my sisters always treated me special. I also want to see my ma and pa; they should be getting up in years and don’t have long in the world. That is all the family that I have, or at least, all that I know of.

      It only took a half-hour to get to their camp. It was quite nice. There were old oak trees with a heavy twine hanging between them; on the twine were clothes that had been washed. I couldn’t remember the last time that my clothes had been washed. There was a Conestoga wagon with a lean-to tarp on each side of it. Sleeping rolls were neatly stacked under the wagon. The creek that meandered through the hills was clear and clean. It bubbled and gurgled, making sounds of comfort. Lucas introduced me to the two women. The pretty one was named Libby and the fat one was named Katy. I didn’t catch the four boys’ names. The four boys all appeared to be teenagers and none of them carried guns. I watched the four boys as they stood watching me. It was clear that they were impressed with my guns.

      The camp was in a low spot between two large hills. The smoke from their fire seemed to get lost in the trees on the side of a cliff. Large oak and elm trees dotted the stream. The trees appeared to be over a hundred years old. There was even cactus and yucca growing away from the stream. Very large, nearly round rocks, taller than my horse, littered the countryside. I had no idea how they might have gotten there. The ground was fairly barren except, around the stream, small yucca plants were everywhere. The grass that grew around the stream was called buffalo grass. I wasn’t sure why; I hadn’t seen a buffalo around here at all. In fact, I hadn’t seen a buffalo in years. Most of them, if not all of them, had been killed off in the states and the wild country. I hadn’t been a part of that massacre. Many famous people had killed the bison just for sport, leaving the dead animals to rot. There was no explanation for man’s stupidity. Apparently stupidity spoke volumes.

      There was green ivy growing out of several cracks under an overhang. There also was moss all around the creek and oddly there were mushrooms growing in several concealed spots. Overall, it was a beautiful setting. It was easily protected, yet hidden from most any traveler.

      I found me a spot at the edge of their camp, picketed my horse and burros and took the packs and bags off. I stacked everything such that all the gold was on the bottom of the pile. I sat down by their fire and Katy served me a plate of beans, beef and tortillas. It was excellent, and I said so. After the meal I took the saddle off my horse and put it under a small shade tree. I wiped him down and checked his shoes. Having a shoe come off out here could doom a man.

      Texas Bob had ridden on up the mountain and disappeared. I assumed that he was the watchman or lookout. I would have to take my turn, probably at night. I didn’t have a watch, but I was pretty good at telling time from the position of the sun or the dippers at night.

      Libby came up and sat down beside me. You want some more? We got plenty!

      I shook my head. Thanks, Ma’am. That was surely good and filled me to the brim. I don’t suppose you have anything sweet?

      She looked at the other woman. Katy, get the man some rock candy. Katy went to the covered wagon and pulled out a tray from the bottom side. She broke off a hunk of something and brought it to me. Katy said, It’s just sugar and syrup. When you boil it, it turns hard and lasts a long time. You will like it.

      She was right: I did like it. The candy was hard and chewing it was difficult. I did my best to not break a tooth. I would have preferred something soft, but beggars can’t be choosers.

      I watched two of the boys digging in the side of the hill; they were apparently digging a dug out to live in. In this place, having the earth around you

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