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    Ballard and McCall 5: Retribution Range
    Ballard and McCall 5: Retribution Range
    Ballard and McCall 5: Retribution Range
    Ebook123 pages1 hour

    Ballard and McCall 5: Retribution Range

    By Neil Hunter

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    On their way home from the funeral of a friend, Ballard and McCall unwittingly cross Circle-B range and find themselves mistaken for rustlers. Tensions are high and McCall is forced to defend himself when a pair of zealous cowhands bring their guns into play. One man ends up dead and another is wounded. McCall takes a bullet in the side. The Texans ride in to the local town, Jericho, to report the incident to the law. Before they know it, however, Ballard and McCall are caught up in the local problems led by Celestine Blanchard, owner of the Circle-B, her treacherous, wayward son Orrin and the underhand trickery that results in more gunplay and violence.
    The Texans take more than their share of hard treatment before a bullet ridden showdown brings peace to Circle-B and the streets of Jericho – with its own personal tragedy.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPiccadilly
    Release dateJan 7, 2019
    ISBN9780463391181
    Ballard and McCall 5: Retribution Range
    Author

    Neil Hunter

    Neil Hunter is, in fact, the prolific Lancashire-born writer Michael R. Linaker. As Neil Hunter, Mike wrote two classic western series, BODIE THE STALKER and JASON BRAND. Under the name Richard Wyler he produced four stand-alone westerns, INCIDENT AT BUTLER’S STATION, THE SAVAGE JOURNEY, BRIGHAM’S WAY and TRAVIS.

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      Book preview

      Ballard and McCall 5 - Neil Hunter

      On their way home from the funeral of a friend, Ballard and McCall unwittingly cross Circle-B range and find themselves mistaken for rustlers. Tensions are high and McCall is forced to defend himself when a pair of zealous cowhands bring their guns into play. One man ends up dead and another is wounded. McCall takes a bullet in the side.

      The Texans ride in to the local town, Jericho, to report the incident to the law. Before they know it, however, Ballard and McCall are caught up in the local problems led by Celestine Blanchard, owner of the Circle-B, her treacherous, wayward son Orrin and the underhand trickery that results in more gunplay and violence.

      The Texans take more than their share of hard treatment before a bullet ridden showdown brings peace to Circle-B and the streets of Jericho – with its own personal tragedy.

      BALLARD and McCALL 5: RETRIBUTION RANGE

      By Neil Hunter

      Copyright © 2019 by Neil Hunter

      First Digital Edition: January 2019

      Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information or storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

      This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book

      Cover painting © outdoorsman

      Series Editor: Ben Bridges

      Text © Piccadilly Publishing

      Published by Arrangement with the Author.

      In territory that appeared to stretch to infinity the great prairies beckoned those with vision. People who saw what could be. Pioneers, adventurers, they came to the empty lands and filled them with their dreams, establishing communities and laying down roots. In an emerging nation they were the hardy ones who helped to establish the backbone of the country. Life abounded across the land and there seemed no limit to what could be achieved through hard work and dedication.

      Farmers who grew wheat in great fields of swaying, golden harvest. Who planted and reaped every vegetable imagined. And the cattlemen who expanded their herds until they covered the land, establishing the ranches both large and small as the demand for beef from the eastern markets grew.

      And as the expanding ranches were established, so were the communities around them. The towns that grew on the backs of the cattle businesses. The stores that supplied the needs of the ranches that grew into towns that offered everything the spreads needed. From everyday requirements to the lesser demands. Restaurants and boarding houses for those who warranted places to stay. Gambling halls where a visiting ranch crew could break the monotony of their working lives. Establishments where a man might get his pleasure in the arms of working girls. Saloons that supplied liquor and company to those who wanted it.

      Here in this vast spread of land isolation meant each community looked to itself for existence. Many miles from any other they depended on themselves. In many instances there was little or no sound communication, save the telegraph. That single strand of wire where brief messages could be sent and received. Often there were breaks in the wire and a town might find itself cut off, not for the first time, and until the breakage could be repaired.

      So each town, alone in the territory, recognized and dealt with its own problems. There was little choice but to take each day as it came. Hoping that the new day might pass without incident and life would allow them to make it peacefully...

      Around the town of Jericho, in a wide, shallow valley, the predominant source of business was cattle. There were a number of thriving spreads, mid-sized for the most part though not exclusive.

      The largest outfit was the Circle-B, a great ranch that spread far and wide. Its headquarters was an impressive outfit. Corrals and outbuildings. Stables and corrals. Overlooking all that was the big house itself. A large affair that had been built by the man who had established Circle-B before his death, leaving the entire business to his then young wife.

      Celestine Blanchard had taken over and through the intervening years had made Circle-B the most powerful cattle venture in the area. She had dedicated herself to that goal and the success she achieved brought financial rewards both to Circle-B and the town of Jericho, where she established commercial ties in the form of building the Blanchard House Hotel, an upmarket establishment that attracted business clientele who visited the town. The hotel, with its own restaurant was host to many deals with agents from Chicago meat companies. It hosted regular commercial meetings with the town business people. Celestine Blanchard had a natural business sense and never missed the opportunity to utilize it.

      On the surface the local community had the appearance of being a successful one. In truth there was a problem that affected every cattle spread in the valley. A spate of rustling that touched every outfit. Cattle were being stolen, spirited away and lost. Disquiet had spread among the ranches. Although there was no evidence of who might be involved suspicion grew. It had not yet reached the pointing of fingers but the cloud was gathering.

      Celestine Blanchard had spoken to local ranchers. There was talk of forming some kind of unofficial group charging them with investigating but nothing had come of it yet. The ranchers round Jericho were simply that – cattle ranchers. Their crews were cowhands not gunmen. None were much in favor of possibly going up against seasoned rustlers who were more than likely skilled at using their guns.

      There was no strong law force in Jericho. None close either. The town did have a marshal, Jared Mitchell. He was only the town marshal. His responsibility ended at the edge of Jericho. Investigating cattle rustling did not come under Mitchell’s purview. He would have not known where to start looking. He could handle local problems such as the occasional drunk. Break up a rowdy argument. His duties were light and beyond town limits he was a novice.

      The tense situation around Jericho led to unexpected incidents, with strangers being challenged without provocation and spiraling to sudden violence and lighting an already smoking fuse...and it was into this smoldering situation a pair of strangers rode...

      ‘Pretty nice piece of country, son’ Jess McCall said.

      ‘You got that right,’ Ballard said.

      This was an afterthought, coming on from the previous landscape they had traversed on their ride down from New Mexico, skirting the lower reaches of the Guadalupe’s, the rocky slopes taking them more or less south, with the waters of the Pecos River to the east. Now they were into Texas it felt like home, even though they had a nigh on a week’s travel ahead. Not that it bothered the Texans. They had ridden to New Mexico by train to attend the funeral of an old acquaintance, stayed around for a couple of days before making the long ride back to home. In no particular hurry.

      Ballard and McCall possessed the need to sometimes drift. Neither of them were what could be called shiftless but there were times a more leisurely approach to life overtook them, and in the wake of their friend’s funeral they felt a slow ride back to Texas was called for, if only to reflect on the way life could change quickly.

      Their friend, Bob Fuller, had been of their age and his sudden death, from a heart problem, had hit them hard. Taken so suddenly despite being in his early thirties his death had been too sudden and unexpected. Taking a steady ride to home was their way of handling the death, making them aware of what they had.

      Like his partner Ballard was making the most of their surroundings. They had ridden into the spread of a great valley that marked a big change in the surrounding landscape. A number of creeks dotted the land. Swathes of grass. A scattering of trees and greenery. Low hills in the distance with a sprawling cluster of high rock formations. Closer a number of healthy, bunched cattle grazing contentedly.

      Chet Ballard eased in his saddle, hands resting on the pommel.

      ‘Yeah, you sure got that right,’ he said again.

      Beside him McCall stiffened, looking out over Ballard’s shoulder. The good-natured smile faded, replaced by an expression of wariness.

      ‘Jess?’

      Ballard eased round in his saddle, picking up on the bunch of riders coming their way. He might have been less concerned if the newcomers had not all been showing rifles that were, to a man, pointing at the Texans.

      ‘Ain’t one for makin’ snap decisions,’ McCall said, ‘but unless this is a local way of saying howdy, I’d say we got trouble.’

      Ballard had to agree. There was something in the way the approaching horsemen were riding abreast, forming a formidable armed line covering himself and McCall. He saw the presence of the men as a threat.

      ‘Set easy, Jess’ Ballard said. ‘Let’s find out what they want.’

      ‘You thinking I might do something rash?’

      ‘Wouldn’t be the first time.’

      ‘Damn, that’s

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