Uriah Moon 2

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  Vigilante Uriah Moon had just dispatched the infamous cattle rancher Morgan Bray and his hired gunmen in a long bloody battle.

  As far as he was concerned, that was the end of the matter. After all, he had righted Bray’s many wrongs and acted as the champion of his many victims.

  There was nothing left to do, was there?

  Three of Bray’s surviving henchmen thought otherwise. They wrongly assumed that Moon had also stolen their boss’s money following that final showdown.

  They hatched a plan to follow and then bushwhack the vigilante and get their hands on the cash, but Uriah Moon had plans of his own.

  Plans which would ultimately end in bloodshed.

  URIAH MOON 2: VIGILANTE VENDETTA

  By Gary Wayne

  Copyright © 2021 by Gary Wayne

  First Electronic Edition: April 2021

  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.

  You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by means (electronic, digital, optical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book

  Series Editor: Ben Bridges

  Text © Piccadilly Publishing

  Published by Arrangement with the Author.

  For Karen with love.

  Prologue

  THE TOWN OF Cheyenne was a long way from the heart of civilization and a place where only the most evil of souls felt truly at home. The law had come and gone several times in the recent past and left very little evidence of it ever having been there at all. This was a place where the law of the gun ruled supreme and death was a constant reminder how fragile life actually was. A host of brothels, gambling halls and other dens of ill-repute filled its streets and welcomed the blackest of hearts who entered its unmarked boundaries. Cheyenne was reputed to be no better or worse than a hundred similar settlements in the vast lawless terrain west of the Pecos river. Men came to the town to drink, womanize and gamble as they did in so many other places.

  Yet Cheyenne also drew another breed of men.

  These were the outlaws and hired gunmen who lived and died by the gun or the knife. Men who killed without a second thought and for no better reason than profit. The men who put death as a price and spilled blood freely if their price was met.

  Notorious killer Bob Nolan and his three equally lethal cohorts had been in Cheyenne for three long weeks wondering when their services and deadly expertise as merciless assassins might be needed once again.

  Nolan had already received a telegraph message from the evil rancher Morgan Bray but his patience was running thin. His men were getting edgy as they awaited a wire from the remote Apache Springs to confirm their paymaster was willing to meet their price and pay their blood money.

  The wire was long overdue and that had caused anger in the ranks of his small troop of lethal hired killers. They wanted to head on out to the remote settlement and do what they were experts at doing and be paid well for their efforts.

  Yet one of the four killers was less patient than the others and had been brooding constantly for over a week. To Josh Wilkins it was a plot to prevent him from doing the only thing he was capable of doing. Apart from killing, Wilkins had no other skills.

  Bob Nolan had become more and more concerned as the week had progressed. He had seen the detrimental effect that the delay was having on Wilkins and was beginning to wonder how long he and the others could keep the irrational gunman in check.

  Cole Jennings and Sam Reed were content with spending their time womanizing, gambling and drinking but Josh Wilkins was becoming more and more agitated by the situation.

  A thousand imaginings constantly tormented Wilkins. In his gradually worsening state there was a conspiracy and he was its only victim. Nothing that his partners could say or do seemed to calm the deadly assassin.

  Wilkins disliked every second that he spent without a six-gun in his hand. He, unlike his three partners, was a born killer. He liked nothing better than ripping a knife into the guts of anyone who disagreed with him or simply filling those he took a dislike to with bullets.

  The increasingly unstable Wilkins had only ridden with Nolan and his boys for the previous ten months and in that short time had caused more trouble than anyone else they had ever known.

  So it was on the night of the 8th of the month. Nolan had led his three followers along one of Cheyenne’s best illuminated streets to the grandest of its buildings. The Queen of Hearts gambling hall dominated the center of the town and had proven a good place to calm Wilkins in the past. Nolan imagined that this night would be the same as he left all three there while he strolled down to the telegraph office.

  To check for any messages had become a nightly habit over the previous three weeks. Nolan was starting to wonder if he would ever receive the telegraph wire he had been promised would arrive soon. The thought of remaining in Cheyenne was becoming a nightmare. Every fiber in his being wanted to get that message so he could lead his three men away toward Apache Springs. That would be the only thing which would calm Josh Wilkins down.

  Nolan crossed the wide busy street avoiding its constant traffic of horses and buggies. He mounted the steps and entered the telegraph office in exactly the same manner that had become his daily ritual.

  Through its large front window, Nolan watched the activity as he waited for the operator to check if the message had been received.

  Nolan had not thought too much about leaving Reed, Jennings and Wilkins in the splendid Queen of Hearts gambling hall as he had done so many times before. To Nolan it was probably the safest place to leave his men and it seemed to him that there was no way that they could get into any trouble. He would have been right if he had left only Jennings and Reed there. The trouble was Josh Wilkins was not as stable as the others. The tormented killer was a wild card though.

  During the time they had spent confined to their room in a boarding house, each of them had heard Wilkins repeatedly mumbling in answer to a voice which only he could hear.

  Bob Nolan stepped out of the telegraph office holding the much awaited telegraph message in his hand. A smile wider than the street itself etched his hardened features. After so much waiting Morgan Bray had finally agreed to Nolan’s terms.

  The seasoned assassin wanted to get back to his men and give them the good news. He rushed from the telegraph office with the wire gripped firmly in his hand and started to hurry back toward the Queen of Hearts.

  Finally, they had been sent for by the ruthless rancher Morgan Bray. The cattle spread owner had agreed Nolan’s price to come to Apache Springs to join the rest of the gunmen he had hired to wipe out his last remaining rival.

  Nolan strode back to the gambling hall and marched through its open glass doors into the heart of the renowned Queen of Hearts. For a few moments he could not observe his men inside the crowded gambling establishment. His eyes drifted around the elegant interior with its hanging chandeliers and expensive golden fittings.

  Then his attention was drawn by the familiar raised voice of Josh Wilkins as the hired gun-hand started screaming in the largest of the rooms a few feet away from where Nolan stood.

  ‘Oh, hell,’ he snarled before rushing to the massive room and glancing at its scores of patrons. It took a few moments before Nolan spotted the outraged Wilkins.

  The demented Wilkins was ranting and raving at the closest card table for some unknown reason. Bob Nolan knew only too well that Wilkins was a loose cannon and totally unpredictable.

  We moved swiftly through the dozens of green baize tables and the variety of card players dotted around them. Yet no matter how quickly Nolan moved, he was not quick enough.

  After yelling gibberish at the seated gamblers, Wilkins drew both his six-shooters and started to fire them into the startled card players.

  Deafening blasts echoed around the massive interior.

  Several well attired gentlemen in black top hats and tails were hit by the maniacal gunman’s lethally accurate bullets and rocked in their chairs. Blood poured from the bullet holes in the starched shirt fronts of the gamblers and ran down them like a sea of scarlet.

  Fountains of gore splattered from their wounds as others rose from their card tables and started to fire at the crazed Wilkins. As bullets crisscrossed the room Bob Nolan backed away from the heated gunfight and urged both Jennings and Reed to get away from the ear-splitting fury. With Wilkins peppered by the outraged bullets of the others inside the gambling hall the crazed killer’s cohorts gathered in the foyer of the Queen of Hearts as dust and choking smoke trailed them.

  Nolan led Reed and Jennings out into the street as the loud blasts continued to ring out behind them. It was obvious that the mentally disturbed Wilkins had been dead before his comrades had fought their way out of the main gambling room, but the sound of shooting carried on.

  The Queen of Hearts outraged patrons would keep shooting into Wilkins lifeless corpse until they ran out of ammunition and were satisfied that he was actually dead.

  Nolan pushed his remaining two gang members out into the street. It had been only a matter of seconds since the shooting had started and the blood had started
to be spilled.

  Cloud of acrid smoke started to follow the three lethal gunmen out of the gambling halls magnificent entrance. The shooting would carry on for quite a while yet, Nolan thought as he guided his men along the brightly illuminated street.

  ‘What happened in there, Sam?’ Bob Nolan asked his stunned men. ‘What set Josh off like that?’

  ‘Josh just flipped.’ Reed shook his head and glanced over his shoulder as they continued to make their way back to their boarding house.

  ‘That’s right, Bob,’ Jennings agreed as they started to slow their pace. ‘He just went loco.’

  ‘Josh was already loco,’ Reed interrupted.

  ‘You’re right,’ Nolan agreed and finally stopped walking on the corner of the wide thoroughfare. He exhaled loudly and rubbed the sweat off his upper lip on his coat sleeve. ‘That boy ain’t bin right since we arrived in Cheyenne.’

  ‘The waiting for Bray’s wire just got to him, I guess,’ Reed muttered as his eyes screwed up and stared along the street at the gambling hall. Shots still echoed out from the building.

  Nolan placed his hands on the shoulders of his men.

  ‘I just got the telegraph message,’ he said. ‘That’s why I came back to the Queen of Hearts. I was gonna tell you all but Josh just started killing. That young loco bean should have hung on for a few more minutes.’

  ‘We’re better off without him,’ Jennings snarled as he thought about the unpredictable Wilkins. ‘That bastard could have gotten me and Sam killed in there. He just started shouting rubbish like his tongue didn’t belong to his brain. He was loco. Pure loco.’

  ‘I reckon you’re right, Cole,’ Nolan unfolded the scrap of paper he had received from the telegraph operator and showed it to his partners.

  ‘Look at this, boys,’ he told them.

  Both Jennings and Reed did as they were told. They read the message and returned the wire to Nolan. They grinned and looked at their leader.

  ‘I told you Bray would pay our price, boys,’ Nolan said.

  ‘You were right, Bob,’ Jennings nodded. ‘And without Josh we got his share of the money to spit between us.’

  ‘That crazy galoot did us a favor,’ Reed added.

  Nolan patted both men on their backs. He lowered his head until it was between them and whispered.

  ‘You go to the boarding house and rustle up our belongings, Cole,’ he started before looking at Reed. ‘And you and me will head on to the livery stable and get our horses.’

  ‘Are we going now?’ Reed wondered.

  ‘Yep, we’re a long way from Apache Springs and I want to get there as quick as possible,’ Nolan growled. ‘I got me a feeling that there ain’t any time to waste. We head on out as soon as we get some supplies and round the horses up.’

  Jennings separated from the others and hurried in the direction of the boarding house as Nolan and Reed strolled through the alleyways in search of the livery stable and their well-rested horses. With each stride the fragrant stench grew stronger in their flared nostrils.

  By the time they reached the livery stable both Nolan and Reed had wiped Josh Wilkins from their collective memory. Now all they could think about was riding to the distant Apache Springs, collecting their blood money and killing whoever they were instructed to kill.

  Chapter One

  THE SPECTER OF death had ridden on the wide shoulders of the mysterious Uriah Moon for as long as the vigilante had drawn breath and roamed the lawless territories righting wrongs and protecting the innocent. It was a constant companion who always reminded the merciless rider of its ominous presence and how easily it could turn the tables on even him. No one knew the actual origins of the distinctive character but that never prevented people from speculating. Some claimed he was an avenging angel whilst others professed that Uriah Moon was in league with Satan himself. They theorized that Moon had ridden out of the bowels of Hell with his guns blazing in order to do the Devil’s bidding.

  Whatever the truth might have been, it was clear that Uriah Moon was unlike anyone else who had mysteriously appeared in the vast lands that had yet to be truly tamed. The vigilante had a strange power not normally found in mortal men. Death might have ridden on his shoulder but there was something else. An invisible force appeared to protect him against his enemy’s bullets and defy the Grim Reaper.

  Was this the hand of the Almighty shielding the distinctive Moon or perhaps it was the forked tail of the Devil that beat away the bullets from his tall frame.

  Uriah Moon whipped the shoulders of the thoroughbred beneath him and forged on toward Apache Springs. During the previous couple of hours, the distinctive Moon had come close to finding out how fragile even his life actually was.

  Uriah Moon had never found himself in such a perilous situation as the one he had just survived. Yet there was no hint of expression in his bearded face. This fight was over but soon he knew that another would raise its ominous head and the vigilante would again have to face it.

  His ice cold blue eyes looked from beneath the brim of his Stetson at the town ahead of him. Daylight had broken and shafts of its warming light began to filter through to remnants of the storm clouds and dry the muddy ground Moon was travelling across.

  The vigilante thought about the previous couple of hours as he steered the horse toward the awakening settlement. Moon prided himself on dishing out his own brand of justice, bringing law to the lawless but he had felt the heat of his adversary’s bullets as they had passed close to his muscular frame.

  Too close.

  Uriah Moon tapped his spurs into the flanks of the trotting thoroughbred as he entered the outskirts of Apache Springs and steered the exhausted horse on. He glanced upward at the heavens and then diverted his attention to the small towns residents who were starting to venture out into the breaking sunlight.

  His mount slowed.

  The lathered up thoroughbred walked along the street of drying mud his and his mind started to race. As the horse reached the halfway point of the long street, it approached the place where Moon had fought off the men who were determined to kill him.

  His eyes darted to both sides of the thoroughfare. To the Lucky Dice and the bullet riddled Salty Sally. The two saloons positioned to either side of the main street appeared normal now that the shooting had ceased and the smoke had cleared.

  But Moon recalled the deadly gunfight that had waged outside the Salty Sally saloon only a short while earlier. He cast his attention to the front of the saloon. His narrowed blue eyes peered from beneath his wide hat brim though wisps of long white hair at the drying muddy ground.

  Thoughtfully, Uriah Moon stroked his long beard and tightened the black leather lace which held it in check as his eyes narrowed.

  To his surprise the four bodies he had left there lying face down in the mud, were gone.

  Only the bullet scarred building and boardwalk remained as evidence of what had taken place there, he thought. All other signs of the brief but bloody gunfight had been removed as not to upset the town’s womenfolk as they scurried from store to store to do their daily rituals.

  Uriah Moon nodded to himself.

  The undertaker had been quick to gather up the dead hired killers and take them to his funeral parlor, Moon silently thought as he kept the mount moving with jabs of his spurred boots.

  He glanced up and stared at the hotel at the end of the long street and then looked to where the massive livery stable stood at the very edge of the town. It had survived the fearsome storm but lost a lot of wooden shingles from its high roof.

  Moon teased his long leathers to his right and the horse changed direction and headed for the fragrant large edifice. The place where his trusty gelding was stabled.

  The thoroughbred beneath him slowed as it reduced the distance between itself and the large structure. Moon stared ahead at the large barn doors and then thought about the fight he had somehow survived earlier.

  The brutal storm had slowly ebbed above the remote settlement of Apache Springs but it had left a lot of damage in its wake, he noticed.

  The haunting horseman had guided the high shouldered horse back from Morgan Bray’s ranch in a total trance that some might have mistaken for sleep. Yet Uriah Moon seldom slept like other men and merely rode back to the remote town as his entire body rested atop the tall horse. Only his hands teasing his reins had remained alert as he had steered his way back to Apache Springs.