The Return Of Leslie Morgan E-Book

Neal Chadwick

• Herausgeber: Alfredbooks
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 130

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

The Return Of Leslie Morgan by Neal Chadwick The size of this book corresponds to 107 pages of paperback. This novel tells the story of the lonely struggle of an upright man.

Leseprobe

The Return Of Leslie Morgan

Neal Chadwick

Published by Casssiopeia-XXX-press, 2019.

Table of Contents

Title Page

The Return Of Leslie Morgan

Copyright

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

Sign up for Neal Chadwick's Mailing List

Also By Neal Chadwick

About the Publisher

The Return Of Leslie Morgan

by Neal Chadwick

The size of this book corresponds to 107 pages of paperback.

This novel tells the story of the lonely struggle of an upright man.

Copyright

A CassiopeiaPress Book: CASSIOPEIAPRESS, UKSAK E-Books and BEKKERpublishing are Imprints by Alfred Bekker

© by Author /COVER WERNER ÖCKL

© of this issue 2019 by AlfredBekker/CassiopeiaPress, Lengerich/Westfalen

www.AlfredBekker.de

[email protected]

1

"They're coming!" Leslie Morgan grimly grated through his teeth.

Instinctively it was clear to him that it was nothing other than death that crept over the horizon. And there was no escape... Leslie closed his eyes and saw a crowd of riders approaching the ridge in the distance.

There were almost two dozen men, all armed to the teeth. Some of them had already taken the rifles from the leather cases they had attached to the saddles.

You can't wait to shoot us over the head, it was Leslie Morgan bitterly through the head. His hand involuntarily went towards the revolver hanging by his side in the deep holster.

"If I see it right, it's Dan Garth himself," Leslie heard the voice of his younger brother, Ray, holding his rifle tightly.

Leslie Morgan nodded.

"Yeah, you're right. And I see Jesse Shaw's fat face, too."

"I'll tell Mum and Dad," Ray said.

Leslie nodded.

"Do that."

Ray still hesitated and Leslie Morgan turned his head slightly.

"What else?"

"Do you think there's gonna be a fight this time, Les?"

"It looks that way."

From the start, Garth and Shaw had tried to drive the Morgans out of the Amarillo area, but they were tough and had resisted anything they had been harassed with.

The people of Garth and Shaw had scattered the Morgan ranch cattle, they had so intimidated the surrounding men that none of them would have dared to join the Morgans as cowboys, and they had instructed the Amarillo businessmen not to sell tools to the Morgans. But Caleb Morgan, his wife Betsy and their sons Leslie and Ray had stayed.

"They want to get us out of the way, Ray. Final," Leslie muttered.

"Those bastards!"

"We won't make it any easier than absolutely necessary!"

"Do you think we have a chance when the chips are down, Les?"

Leslie Morgan was silent and looked at the approaching pack with narrow eyes.

2

The Morgans entrenched themselves in the ranch house. Leslie positioned himself by the window and watched the riders approach.

His mother eagerly loaded rifles while Caleb Morgan was strapping on his revolver belt.

Ray had entrenched himself next to the door, his rifle in the off position, and his gaze staring rigidly out.

"We should start shooting right now," Ray said.

But his father didn't think so.

"No," he said. "I'll talk to Dan Garth. We'll only shoot if there's no other way!"

"Dad! Do you think they rode out here with a force like that to talk?"

"You'll do as I say, Ray!" Caleb said unmistakably.

Meanwhile, the mother of the Morgan sons had also taken a rifle and positioned herself by one of the windows. Betsy Morgan was a good markswoman who could easily compete with most of the men in the area in this regard.

Then the riders came along.

Grim figures, armed to the teeth and determined to do anything.

Dust was stirred up by the hooves of almost two dozen horses. Some of the guys jumped out of their saddles and entrenched themselves in the surrounding area. Leslie saw one lurking behind the barn, another hiding behind a wagon.

But Dan Garth stayed in the saddle and came a little closer, surrounded by his people.

Garth already had clearly grey hair and a lean, leather-skinned face. His features were hard and in the deep cavities two ice-grey eyes flashed.

Garth was the biggest rancher in the Amarillo area. No one in the county could even remotely hold a candle to him.

Dan Garth was something like the uncrowned king in the county and whoever dared to get in his way had to reckon with the worst...

Next to him rode Jesse Shaw, a man who seemed a little bloated.

His ranch was a few numbers more modest than Garth's, but still a lot bigger than what the Morgans had built out of nothing in the last few hard years here.

Anyway, Shaw was still powerful enough, so a man like Dan Garth couldn't afford to chase him away. There was a tense peace between the two. Um, at the moment they were even allies. Both Garth and Shaw - were of the opinion that there was no room for a third in this country. On that point, they agreed.

"Caleb Morgan! Are you home?" screamed Dan Garth's hoarse voice. Then as he went on, mockery sounded in his words.

"Come out! Or would you rather send your wife forward?"

"I'll blow his brains out!" Ray was grinding in the meantime.

"He can't talk to you like that, Dad!"

"No!" that's what Caleb Morgan said. There was a kind of authority in his voice that tolerated no contradiction. "I'll talk to Garth!"

"Don't trust that son of a bitch," Leslie interfered.

"This man thinks he can do anything here. Besides, he has no scruples... And he certainly didn't bring the wolves there with him to have a chat with you!"

Caleb shook his head vigorously.

He seemed pretty sure he was doing the right thing.

"I need to talk to him, Les," he replied as he glanced at his eldest son. "You can figure out for yourself what our chances are if Garth really lets go of his pack!" Caleb made a throw-away gesture. "I suppose he's just trying to intimidate us. It's always been that way! But with me, Garth got the wrong guy!"

"This time it looks different, Dad," growled Leslie Morgan gloomily. "You're serious. I have a feeling..."

Caleb laughed hoarse.

"You're a pessimist, Les!"

"Don't go out, Dad!"

"I already know what I'm doing!"

"Dad!"

But Leslie knew he couldn't do anything equal to his father's will in that second. And so Caleb Morgan, the host of Garth's hungry hyenas, stepped out.

But Caleb didn't seem impressed.

"What do you want, Garth?"

"I want you out of here, Morgan!" the big rancher barked hoarse. "They've received enough warnings! Now my patience is at an end!"

Caleb's voice sounded firm and determined when he replied, "I have the same right as you to graze my cattle on this land. The same right, did you hear? And there's nothing you can do about it!"

Garth's face remained motionless.

"Oh, no?" he asked with an undertone that was so cynical. "It seems to me you're overlooking the balance of power here in the county..."

Caleb Morgan spat out.

"You can blow yourself up all you want! I haven't been impressed by your antics for a long time!"

Garth's facial features clearly showed the anger that rose in him.

"You'll get what you want out of it," he growled angrily.

"I gave you a chance to pull out..."

Caleb Morgan wasn't so easily intimidated.

"The law of free pasture is in force, Garth!"

"This is my law only, Caleb Morgan! And nothing else!"

"There's no room here for a third man," the fat Shaw interfered. "You should finally get this, Morgan!"

His spongy face turned to a scornful grin.

The fact that he had come here with almost two dozen armed men obviously gave him a feeling of superiority that he was now enjoying himself.

"You will have to accept that there is a third rancher in the area," Caleb Morgan replied. "The pasture is free!"

Dan Garth only had a cynical laugh for that. Then he leaned forward a little in the saddle and hissed: "Either you take your cattle and your other rubbish and disappear so fast your horses carry you, or I will have to make legs for you! And this won't be pleasant for you!"

"You can leave with your people, Garth, if you want. You won't change my mind!"

"Is that your final word, Morgan?"

"Yes."

Garth shrugged his shoulders and let his well-dressed Gaul walk backwards a few yards.

"As you wish..." he murmured, hardly moving the thin, cracked lips. "Everything that happens now is your own doing, Morgan! I warned you!"

"If you're going to let go of your pack now and burn this place to the ground, all I can say is you'll regret it," Caleb promised.

Garth laughed.

"Oh, yeah? What's to stop me?"

"My sons have gone for your head, Garth! If you want to play the wild man here, you'll be the first to believe it!"

For a moment, the paint fled Garth's face. He looked at the window front of the ranch house and saw a later Ray's Winchester run pointing in his direction. Dan Garth swallowed.

Below his left eye, he twitched nervously.

"We'll see!" he growled darkly. "But you shouldn't think you're getting away with this, Morgan!"

He used it to pull his horse around and push it away. His people followed him and also those who had been hiding behind the barn and by the wagon jumped into the saddles and rode off.

Caleb breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the pack with its huge cloud of dust dashing away.

Leslie Morgan now came out of the house and stood next to his father.

Caleb Morgan patted his son on the back and said, "You see, Les! I told you! An inflated cock is this Garth! But as soon as you throw him off his dung heap, he's a tiny one!"

But the older of the Morgan sons remained skeptical.

"It's not over yet," Leslie was sure.

His father shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't paint the devil against the wall, my son!"

"What if he's serious?"

"So far he's just been bluffing, Les!" he said. "Just as I suspected!"

But Leslie Morgan shook her head lightly. Then he pointed to the crowd of riders who had already moved away. The Garth team rallied. Dan Garth seemed to be giving some instructions.

A moment later the Reiter-Pulk divided into small groups, some of which rode a kind of bow. You didn't have to puzzle to see what was going on!

An attack!

"They're coming back, Dad!" Leslie said soundlessly. "Now it's getting serious!"

He exchanged a quick glance with his father. Caleb stood there with a stunned face and couldn't say anything. The horror was in his eyes.

"Those bastards," Caleb whispered and ripped the gun out of the holster.

A little later the first shots were fired.

3

Caleb and Leslie Morgan had run back to the house to hole up.

The attackers splashed wildly around themselves shooting from all sides. A real hail of bullets pelted down on the Morgans, who had barricaded themselves in their house. Now it was about survival.

One or two of the riders were taken out of their saddles and lay motionless in the dust a moment later. The attack had lasted barely a minute, when the barn and the stable already went up in flames.

The horses were swaying and shaking. Some of the animals were able to free themselves, tore down the gate and ran away in panic. Others had less luck and died an agonizing death.

Leslie had meanwhile taken a Winchester rifle and stormed to the back of the ranch house. Through the narrow hallway he entered his parents' bedroom.

A hail of lead shattered the window glass. Leslie Morgan stalked her way to the outer wall and positioned herself next to the window.

Then he emerged from his cover in a flash and fired several shots from his winchester in quick succession.

One of the riders got Leslie out of the saddle. With a shrill scream he was pulled back, the rifle sailed away in a high arc and landed on the ground. The man was already dead when he hit the floor. His foot got caught in the stirrup, so that the corpse was dragged a long way over the ground by the continuous horse.

Leslie took the horse from another of the guys under his ass and hit a third one at the weapon arm. The man cursed at the top of his lungs when the revolver slipped away. When the next hail of lead went in his direction, Leslie Morgan had already taken cover again. The projectiles whipped through the window and shredded the wood that was used to make the wardrobe on the opposite side of the bedroom.

Some of the bullets even went through the house wall. They hit smoothly through the thin wood of the walls.

Leslie was pretty lucky to get off scot-free so far.

He heard the sound of a galloping horse. One of the guys seemed pretty close, but Leslie couldn't do anything about it at the moment. He was under too much fire.

Then something heavy, slow sailed through the window...

It was a torch.

It landed directly on the wide marriage bed of Caleb and Betsy Morgan.

Leslie wanted to jump up to grab the torch and throw it out again.

A shot that passed close to his head stopped him moving.

It only took seconds, and the bed had caught fire. It was too late.

Inside him, Leslie knew this, but he also knew that

that fight was as good as lost when the fire spread inside the house. And so he jumped forward, threw the Winchester to the side and tried to roll up the ceiling and suffocate the fire.

Gunshots buzzed in from outside, but Leslie didn't care for them at that moment.

He had to try.

But it was hopeless. The fire was already crawling up the wall. Like a hungry monster it ate its way forward, insatiable and furiously fast.

The wood from which this house was built was dust-dry. An ideal prey for the flames. There hadn't been any rain for months.

Leslie looked out of the corner of his eye and saw a figure in front of the window.

A rider. One of Garth's men.

Leslie knew him. It was blonde Bill Wheaton, his mark's foreman at the Garth Ranch.

Wheaton had his long Peacemaker Colt in his right hand and aimed directly at Leslie, whose hand immediately went to his hip.

Leslie instinctively dropped sideways and ripped the colt out of the holster. He did so even though he knew it was hopeless, for he had little chance of bringing his own weapon into action in time.

At least not before the Garth Ranch foreman pulled the trigger.

And Wheaton was a feared gunman in the area. It was unlikely that he would miss his target at that distance.

Leslie had barely torn half of his iron out of the holster when Wheaton's shot was already fired.

But almost at the same time, someone else was firing. Ray stood in the bedroom door and let his repeating rifle speak. His first shot was in Wheaton's shoulder.