Alias the Kansas Kid

Alias the Kansas Kid

John R. Rose

Bold Venture Press

Copyright

Cover art: Norman Saunders

Cover design: Rich Harvey

Alias the Kansas Kid by John R. Rose

Copyright © 2016 by John R. Rose. All Rights Reserved.

This book is available in print at most online retailers.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without express permission of the publisher and copyright holder. All persons, places and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to any actual persons, places or events is purely coincidental.

If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, please purchase your own copy. Thanks for respecting the hard work of this author.

Contents

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

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

About the Author

Bold Venture Press

Alias, the Kansas Kid

Chapter One

The Daydreamer

Your momma is a nasty woman! the youngster shouted across the creek to Dan Robbins. The young boy, to whom the remark was directed, picked up a rock and hurled it toward his taunters on the opposite side of the running stream. The stone splashed harmlessly into the water and the boys on the far side of the creek disappeared among the trees amid hoots of laughter. That scene had taken place years ago, during Dan’s first year in school, and since that time the youthful boy had learned to ignore the slurs hurled his way. He was a quiet youngster and at times appeared moody. Younger children went out of their way to avoid him while the older ones just simply ignored him.

Now young Dan Robbins slouched downward in his wooden desk and gazed intently toward the window in the one room building where he attended school. The last day had finally arrived and his mother had promised him he would not have to return in the fall. He was glad of that, primarily because his size and age had begun to be an embarrassment as the other children were quite younger than he was. All except one, and that was George MacGregor, son of the biggest land owner in the territory. The two boys, both of whom were nearing their sixteenth birthdays, did not get along and as a habit, tried to avoid each other as much as possible.

Dan wondered what the coming months would bring. He would continue to work at the mercantile store for a while, of that he was sure. But he didn’t plan to spend the rest of his life helping people decide which bolt of cotton cloth or what bag of dry beans they wanted loaded on their wagon. Not that he wasn’t grateful to Reverend Rowland and Sheriff Sam Springer for convincing Fred Fawcett he would be doing the right thing to give him a chance with the job. The work had been a life saver. Dan smiled to himself. That job had kept him from having time to get into mischief plus the extra money had been a blessing to his mother.

The thought of Susan Robbins made the boy squirm slightly in his desk. He felt guilty that he had been given a raise in salary by Mr. Fawcett, who was convinced the extra pay would keep the boy working for him after he ceased to attend school, and that he had elected not to tell his mother. Dan knew that was wrong and that every penny was needed by the young woman in her attempt to care for herself and her only child.

Then the boy’s thoughts turned to the new six-shooter that he had purchased and he had a warm feeling inside. His mother was dead set against guns and had no idea that her son owned one, but Dan had convinced himself that what she didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt her. Besides, he wasn’t going to do anything wrong, like hold up a bank or something.

It had been hard on Susan Robbins in the past but that was so far back that Dan had no memory of it. It had been nearly seventeen years ago when a brash young man had ridden into town. He was handsome in a rugged way and walked with a swagger. He carried two six-guns belted about his waist and the older members of the Kiowa Bluffs community saw him as nothing but trouble from the very beginning. The younger folks had flocked around Gil Tanner as though he were someone special and he made no bones about being fast with his guns.

Business picked up for the local saloon, the Red Dog Cafe, when Gil began to spend his time there. He had been in town a very short time when he made his first challenge to a young man about his own age. The fellow immediately backed down and there was no gunfight. Word got around and every young man in Kiowa Bluffs became Gil Tanner’s friend and buddy. The gunman no longer had to buy his drinks in the Red Dog as there was always someone ready to pay for him. Two weeks later he gave another challenge and again the young man affronted refused to draw his gun. The stature of the newcomer grew.

The young gunman had swept Susan Robbins off her feet with his charm and good looks. The aunt and uncle, with whom she lived, had warned her the fellow was no good and that her parents would turn over in their graves at the thought of their daughter throwing herself at such a charlatan.

The warnings had fallen on deaf ears and eventually the time came when Susan Robbins told her friends that she was engaged to marry Gil Tanner. For a while she was the envy of her social circle, even though her aunt and uncle let it be known they would not attend the wedding. They completely disapproved of the pending union.

The first morning that Susan had suffered from morning sickness was also the same morning that the safe in the hotel had been found open with the money missing. Not only had a large amount of money been taken, but Gil Tanner, gunslinger, was no longer around town. The crime had never been solved and Gil Tanner had never been seen again.

When Susan Robbins’ pregnancy became apparent, her aunt and uncle informed her that she would need to find another place to live. They helped her move into a small three-room house in Kiowa Bluffs, and within a month they had loaded up their wagon and disappeared. The shame of Susan Robbins’ condition was more than the God-fearing couple could stand. The teenage girl did not know where they had gone nor did she ever hear from them again.

The teacher picked up a small bell from her desktop and gave it a quick jingle bringing Dan Robbins back to reality. The eighteen boys and girls in the school, ranging from the first through the eighth grades, were getting their hats and jackets from the peg board by the door as they prepared to leave for the final time this term.

Well, Danny, said the schoolteacher, an elderly woman who had been the boy’s teacher from the first grade onward, we shall miss you next fall. You’ve been a good student and I think you will do well if you apply yourself.

Thanks, Mrs. Livingston, Dan replied.

The sound of a gunshot brought the chattering group to silence.

Probably somebody shootin’ at a skunk, commented one of the middle-aged boys. Others nodded in agreement.

The sound of the shot had not been too far away, but in a few moments the youngsters were back to laughing and chattering as they made their way out of the schoolhouse, each turning to walk or run in the direction of their own home.

Danny, came Mrs. Livingston’s voice again, do you think you’ll come to the school picnic on Sunday?

The boy had not given the end of school picnic any thought until now but he knew what the expected answer was.

I’ll likely be there, he replied and then turned in the direction of the Kiowa Bluffs main street, which lay just a few hundred yards distance.

Dan was neither eager nor reluctant as he turned toward the mercantile store where he would work until it was time to close for the night.

Hey, Robbins! came a shout, along with the sound of a trotting horse and Dan turned to see George MacGregor, mounted on his dark chestnut and moving toward the country road that would cover the five miles out to the Rocking M Ranch.

Yeah? replied the lean boy, squinting his eyes against the western sun and looking up at the young fellow in the saddle.

My dad told me to tell you that if you’re looking for a man’s job, he’d give you some work out on the ranch, George said. Ain’t much pay but its decent work.

The implication of his present job not being up to snuff for a grownup was not lost on Dan Robbins. He nodded and replied, I’ll think about it.

MacGregor jerked his head in acknowledgement, wheeled his horse and rode off toward the ranch.

When Dan turned back toward town, he saw several people gathered in the street in front of the post office. Wondering what the excitement was, he quickened his steps. In a few moments he saw the color of a blue gingham skirt flapping in the light breeze moving down the street. There was a quick catch in his throat. That was a woman sprawled in the street. Dan Robbins broke into a run.

Mom! he yelled, fear in his choked voice, as he approached the gathered men.

It’ll quit bleedin’ and clot after a while, he heard a man say. She ain’t worth wastin’ the doc’s time on!

"I said, ‘Somebody go get doc!’" came a harsh voice from the man kneeling on the ground beside the unmoving woman.

Sheriff Springer! interjected Dan Robbins. What happened to mom?

Not real sure, Dan, said the sheriff, looking up at the youngster. Seems like somebody fired a shot and spooked a green broke horse that Chet was ridin’ and it plowed right into your mother.

Why is she bleeding? asked Dan, kneeling beside the woman as her eyes began to flutter. There was a blood stain on the woman’s shoulder that was slowly spreading.

Don’t know, was the sheriff’s reply. Probably hooked something when the horse ran over her. Maybe the shoe, who knows?

Just then another man knelt beside Dan and his mother. It was Doctor Reed who had arrived in the company of Reverend Rowland. The doctor quickly checked the woman’s eyes, took her pulse, and ran his fingers gently over the shoulder.

Did I hear you say she was hit by a horse? the doctor asked, looking at Sheriff Springer.

I didn’t see it, the sheriff replied, but that’s what they say.

I saw it, doc, said the man who was against sending for the doctor in the first place. She just ran right out in front of that hoss of Chet’s that was acting up! Blame woman deserved what she got!

Anger burned in Dan Robbins. His fists clenched and he started to get to his feet when a strong grip caught him by the arm.

Easy, son, said the sheriff. Don’t want to do something we’ll all be sorry for later.

Dan relaxed and remained beside his mother. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard the remarks good people had made about his mother all his life. And a good number of the remarks had been directed at him and his bad blood.

I want a couple of you men to carry Susan over to my office, Dr. James Reed said, looking up at the surrounding crowd. I can help her much better there.

The crowd dispersed but no one offered to help carry the injured woman to the doctor’s office.

I’ll carry mom, Doc, said Dan getting to his feet.

No, I’ll carry her, answered Sheriff Springer. I’m just a little bigger than you are and perhaps a tad stronger. The lawman laughed gently as he gathered the woman in his arms and moved in the direction of the doctor’s office.

Susan’s eyes began to flutter again, and she groaned as they reached the house that served the doctor as his home and office. The sheriff placed her gently on the table and the doctor positioned a thick cloth beneath her head. Then he began to unfasten the blouse until he could pull the dress sleeve away from the injured shoulder.

I thought so, said the sheriff calmly. He reached over and took the sleeve in his hand turned it gently and in a moment, he stuck his finger through a hole in the fabric.

Yeah, said the doctor. Somebody shot her. Bullet is still in her shoulder. We’ll get it out right away! The doctor turned to the stove at one side of the room and put a kettle of water on to boil.

Why would somebody shoot mom? Dan asked in disbelief. What did she ever do to hurt anybody?

Chances are it was an accident, Dan, the lawman answered. Somebody most likely fired a shot at something else and the bullet hit your mother. See, it didn’t go clear through, so the shooter was likely not very close.

Is she gonna be all right? Dan asked.

I expect so, Dr. Reed replied. I’d like to have Mrs. Thompson come over and help me with this, he added. She’s good and doesn’t get all flustered at the sight of blood.

I’ll get her, replied Rev. Theodore Rowland from the doorway.

And I’d like to have you and Dan wait outside while we do this, the doctor added, glancing toward the lawman.

But… Dan started to protest and then Sheriff Springer put his hand on the boy’s arm and moved him toward the door.

It’s better this way, the sheriff said. Doc can work without worrying about what other folks are doing around him. Mrs. Thompson’s been helping him for years.

Susan Robbins stayed on the table where Doctor Reed performed the operation for the remainder of the night. The bullet had been difficult to remove and the woman had bled more than the doctor had expected but at last he had it out, the wound disinfected and the injury sewn shut. He allowed Dan and the sheriff to return to the woman’s side at about sundown that evening. The woman lay still and unmoving on the table, her face quite pale in the lamp light.

She looks like she’s dead, whispered Dan when he saw his mother. Are you sure she is going to be all right.

Her chances are good, the doctor replied.

I want to ask her a few questions, the sheriff said, but it looks like I’ll have to wait until tomorrow.

Dan stayed with his mother through the night and in the early morning hours, his head drooped, his eyes closed and the boy went to sleep.

When Dan awoke the next morning, the sun was high in the eastern sky. His mother was sitting in a rocking chair drinking a cup of tea and Sheriff Springer was on his way out the front door.

Mom! exclaimed the lad, leaping to his feet. How do you feel? Are you okay?

Danny, she said with a wry smile, I’m fine! That is, as fine as a person can be after she has been shot and run over by a horse.

Chapter Two

The Secret Pistol

A hot July wind blew across the deserted main street of Kiowa Bluffs when Dan Robbins stepped out of the recessed entrance to Fawcett’s Mercantile and, tugging his hat more tightly to his head, turned his steps toward the small bank building on the corner a block away. It was late afternoon and the summer heat kept most folks inside unless there was a good reason for being outside.

There were three horses tied in front of the Red Dog Saloon and two more in front of the Bank of Kiowa Bluffs. A dog scuttled across the street and disappeared into an open shed while several chickens were scratching in the dirt looking for seeds in front of the livery barn at the far end of the town.

Dan shook his head at how dead the town appeared to be and wistfully thought of the time when he would leave. Perhaps he would go to Wichita or Tulsa or maybe even all the way to California. He grinned at the thought.

A few moments earlier Dan had seen the sheriff leave his office across the street and walk toward the bank. The boy had planned to slip out of town and follow a gully to an out of the way grove of cottonwood trees where he would practice with the six-gun he carried concealed under his shirt. Now he had half a notion to stop in the bank and see if Sheriff Springer would like to go along. There had been occasions in the past when the lawman had gone with him. He had even given the boy several tips on using the weapon but he always cautioned the lad against carrying the gun. It just invites trouble, he had said. Dan knew Sam Springer was right but it sure would feel good to have that shiny six-shooter in a holster on his right hip. A holster he did not currently own.

The Kansas Kid, he whispered to himself, using the name he had made up several years ago when he had dreamed of being a gunslinger like his long-gone father. That was before he owned a gun. Now he owned a six-shooter, but was older and felt that his pretending to be a gunman was a little childish. Sheriff Springer surely knew what he was talking about when advising against using the gun except in an emergency.

Reverend Theodore Rowland had also advised Dan against attempting to make a living with a gun. The reverend had said about the only honest way was to be a lawman, or to work in some kind of traveling show as a sharpshooter. The first was a rather dangerous occupation and took a special kind of person to do a good job. The second, while appearing glamorous, didn’t pay well and had no future in it.

Dan gently rubbed the handle of the six-gun concealed under his shirt and thought again about being the Kansas Kid and looking for his father out there somewhere on the frontier. Well, he guessed he was out there somewhere. No one had ever heard of Gil Tanner after he left Kiowa Bluffs. For all Dan knew, the man might have been deceased for years. No one in this town would know.

At the last moment, his mood having become somewhat melancholy, Dan decided to go on to the cottonwood grove by himself. He would talk to Sam Springer later. Then the boy came to a stop as a new possibility entered his mind, and he wondered why he hadn’t thought of this earlier. The sheriff, as a lawman, heard news of various gunmen and outlaws and received flyers with pictures of wanted men. Perhaps, over the years, he had heard something of Gil Tanner. Maybe he knew what had happened to the man or even where he might be right now!

Dan Robbins, making a decision that would change him for the rest of his life, turned quickly and retraced his steps toward the bank building.

It was late enough in the afternoon that the bank doors should have been locked but young Dan Robbins didn’t think of that as he pushed down on the thumb latch and swung the door open. It was dark inside the building after having been in the glaring afternoon sun and the boy was only vaguely aware that several men were in the room as he entered.

There was a flash of red, the thundering roar of a gun and a searing pain, something like a wasp sting, burned his left shoulder. Glass tinkled to the floor behind the youngster as the window in the bank door had been shattered.

Most folks, when realizing they are being shot at, are likely to freeze just for an instant before reacting. To Dan Robbins, the room and its occupants seemed to go into slow motion. The boy was moving sideways and his pistol was already in his hand and swinging toward the man with the smoking revolver who had just taken a shot at him.

Dan’s vision was inexplicably clear in the dark room. He moved again as another bullet broke the window behind him. Then he squeezed the trigger. The boy’s answering shot caught the gunman at the base of the throat and blood spewed across the floor. The man gave a choking sound and sagged to his knees. As he fell, his companion behind the counter turned and fired at Sheriff Springer who was reaching for his six-gun. It was a wild shot and caught the lawman in the vicinity of the left hip causing him to crumple with a yelp of pain.

The boy’s gun moved slightly and belched fire again. A tiny hole appeared in the left temple of the second outlaw and the fellow was dead before he collapsed across the counter.

Dan Robbins had been in the bank a full two-seconds and two men lay dead from the gun in his hand. Slowly he lowered the smoking revolver and stood numbly watching as the banker hurried over to attend to Sheriff Springer and the teller began stuttering about going to get the sheriff. The banker looked up, corrected his employee and directed him to fetch Doc Reed. The man, visibly shaken, hurried to do as he had been instructed.

Dan Robbins, his emotional high subsiding, stood quietly watching as the banker helped Sam Springer to his feet and into a nearby chair. The lawman was gritting his teeth and clenching his bloody hip with both hands as if the pressure would make the pain go away.

We’re lucky, Cabe, he said, looking up at the banker. Those fellows had no intention of leaving any living witnesses. If Dan hadn’t showed up, we’d likely be dead just about now!

I don’t know, replied the banker in a shaking voice he could not control. Maybe they would have just taken the money and left. Now we’ve got two dead men!

What do you mean, you don’t know! exploded the lawman, lurching to his feet. They did everything but say they were going to shoot us! Dan here saved our bacon and the bank’s money!

Sheriff Springer sank back into the chair, perspiration coursing down his chalk white face. Pain burned in his sharp eyes.

Dan Robbins stuck the revolver back in his belt and moved over to stand beside the sheriff, his impassive face displaying no emotion. Inside he felt like