RANCOR OF HONOR

By: Jkay




second half rancor

Rancor of Honor

Part 2



Chris was soaked to the bone by the time he arrived back at his shack. He slowly pulled his saddle from Diablo and placed it under the overhang over the porch. Next he grabbed the blanket and threw it on top of the saddle to keep it dry. Chris turned back to the black and untied Diablo’s reins from the wooden post and led him to the corral. He opened the gate and the big black followed him in Chris turned and the well-trained horse lowered his head so that Chris could slip off the bridle. For a time, man and horse stood silent in the light drizzle. The cool raindrops felt good against Chris’s hot face cooling it down. Chris finally sent Diablo off with a pat and after hanging the bridle on a peg he went inside to dry off.

Chris peeled off his black duster and threw it over the chair. His head still ached from his morning encounter with the little piglet. He went to the corner cupboard and poured himself a shot of whiskey, drowning it in one gulp. Licking his lips, Chris poured another shot and this time sipped the whiskey slowly, letting it warm his gut. Grabbing the whiskey bottle, Chris made his way to the bed, sat down and poured another shot of whiskey, then placed the bottle on the floor next to the bed where he could find it. He raised the glass to his lips and once more slowly sipped some of the golden liquid. Chris winced as his left hand rubbed against the side of his face where a dark purple bruise ran from his temple down to his cheekbone.

Exhausted, Chris pulled his boots off and placed them by the foot of the bed. Weary, he lifted his legs and settled his back against the headboard. Chris leaned his head back, fighting to keep his eyes open, but lost the battle as he fell into a drunken slumber. The glass he was holding in his right hand slipped out of his fingers and fell to the floor. The glass hit the floor, spinning, without breaking, rolling to a stop a few feet from the bed.

It was well past midnight when the first sounds of whimpering escaped Chris’ lips. His body curled inside itself, subconsciously trying to seem smaller. He was caught up in his childhood nightmare. Gray floating clouds swirled around Chris as he walked a few steps then stopped, tilting his head, listening for any familiar sounds. Hearing nothing he moved on and then suddenly he felt like he was falling, slowly falling in a bottomless pit; at the same time he felt his body shrink smaller and smaller. He reached out scraping his fingers against the cold stonewall. With a jolt, Chris willed his body to stop falling and clawed his way back out of the pit. Taking deep breaths, Chris stood on shaking legs behind him the pit disappeared. A gentle breeze brushed against his face, warm and inviting and Chris proceeded forward. The wind picked up carrying a musical sound, radiating a soft voice, weaving along the air current. Chris was drawn towards the musical voice; it was a source of warmth and love. Chris staggered forward faster as he felt a menacing presence reaching out to gather him in its embrace. Chris shivered as he ran, leaving the dark, murky demon behind, fleeing to the musical voice as it called out his name.

“Baby… don’t hide from mommy.” Elena Larabee’s angelic voice called out to her five-year-old son. She was wearing her finest gown. The dress matched her emerald green eyes and she looked stunning with her long blonde hair flowing down her back. She wanted everything to be perfect when her husband returned home. The house smelled like fresh peaches and cinnamon from the jam she finished caning earlier in the day. The parlor was decorated with small ribbons of blue, yellow and green, tied together making up streamers that lined the walls. In the center of the table was a round two-layer cake with white frosting and little toy ponies on top. The cake was for her son’s fifth birthday party. Her son’s giggles rose from behind the love seat and green eyes that matched her own peeked around the corner to look up at her.

“Mommy,” chuckled little Christopher as he stood up. In one hand he held a toy, a stuffed black and white horse’s head on a stick, lovingly made by his mother with buttons for the eyes and a red ribbon for the harness. The little boy moved his legs between the slender piece of wood that made up the toy’s body and pretended to gallop over to his mother.

“How is my little cowboy?” Elena reach down and lifted his son into her arms. She swung him around as he giggled with delight. “I believe it’s time for blackie and his master to take a nap.” She told the yawning five-year-old in her arms.

“No nap…want papa, promised!” pouted the toddler as his right thumb headed for his mouth. Christopher’s mouth closed around his thumb as he finished a second yawn. Elena smiled down at her weary little boy and moved to sit in the rocking chair to settle him down for a nap. As she reached over to get the baby blanket she thought she heard the sounded of horses stopping in front of the small two story house. Elena was excited as she stood and shifted Christopher’s head against her shoulder and pulled the blanket up to cover his head. She kissed him on the side of the cheek and went to greet her husband at the front door.

Elena carefully opened the front door so that she wouldn’t wake the sleeping child in her arms. She took a voluntary step back inside the hallway at the sight of the man walking up the steps towards her. From the glossy look in his eyes Elena could tell that he had been drinking. She looked past the man hoping to see her husband and friends riding towards the small cottage. It was late and most of the slaves and men who worked for her husband’s grandfather were already in for the night. Elena was alone with her five-year-old son. “Charles,” she said, keeping her voice steadying, she hadn’t seen the man since before she had been married. Elena shifted the baby in her left arm, keeping him out of sight and out of reach, behind the door.

“Elena.” Charles said her name as he put his hand on the door post, leaning his head in the door. “Elena, it’s been a long time.” His eyes roamed her body that was not covered by the door. “You’re still the most beautiful woman in Louisiana.”

She didn’t know what to say, she couldn’t let him in the house. “Thank you, Charles.”

“May I come in?”

“It’st late Charles. Tyrone should be arriving home any minute now.” Elena saw the man’s eyes harden at the sound of her husband’s name. “Please Charles, go back home. Remember our past friendship and let it be…let it be enough. You shouldn’t be here… I love Tyrone.” Her eyes pleaded with him to go away. The bundle in her arms started to wake up and little Christopher slowly opened his eyes.

“The men are gone?” Charles asked with a tight sneer on his face. Elena instantly knew she made a mistake, she shouldn’t have told him that Tyrone wasn’t home. Charles placed his foot in the doorway, blocking her from shutting the door in his face. Elena’s body shuttered in fear and her baby pick up that fear and dug his face into her shoulder, his little body shaking in terror. Her deep love for her son took over and Elena wrapped both arms around him, hugging him closer to her body, whispering sweet words of love into his little ear. As she shifted her son over to her right arm, Elena heard Charles’s audible gasp of shock and she took several steps back away from his extended hand reaching for her baby. She quickly lowered the boy to the floor and said, “Run baby…run and hide…run…baby.” She stood facing Charles as Christopher obeyed, running down the hallway where the old grandfather clock chimed away. Elena screamed Tyrone’s name as Charles lunged towards her.

He was mad, lost in a rage that he couldn’t control. Savagely Charles glanced around the room. He was out of breath as he finally caught up with the struggling woman. He grabbed her around the neck and placed his hand over her mouth, stopping her from telling the boy to wait for his Papa. Charles yelled for the boy to come out as he pulled Elena towards his chest. How dare she…she had a son…she gave that…that…devil a son… his son… the son that should have been his.

She struggled to get out of his arms. Elena bit down hard on the hand covering her mouth, she instantly heard Charles curse and with his other hand he shoved a long knife into her body. Elena felt a pressure against her side, terrified, she exerted all her energy to free herself. She became numb, not feeling any sensation from her lower body. Elena’s mouth open and she tried to cry out, her face turned paste white from shock as she cast her eyes down staring unbelievably at the knife protruding from her body. Elena whispered her husband’s name before her eyes rolled back into her head, becoming dead weight in her killer’s arms. Charles lowered her body to the kitchen floor, his eyes wild and feral as he looked around the room, searching for the boy. The boy… devil’s son… had to get the boy. Charles stepped over Elena’s dead body moving towards the parlor. He never saw the piercing green eyes staring straight past him through the crack in the cupboard under the sink. Charles ransacked the parlor, shoving the knife covered in blood in the middle of the cake. Not satisfied, Charles pulled the knife out of the cake and slashed down at the cake again and again, until the knife became embedded into the wood of the table. Like a mad dog, Charles tossed and turned the parlor over, shattering the glass vase over the fireplace.

The whiskey glass shattered…

Chris woke with a scream, his body rising halfway out of the bed, soaked with sweat. He had been dreaming of his mother and for a moment he thought he was five again, but the dream faded, leaving him with a feeling of dread. Chris glanced around the room; it was early morning, just before sunrise. Then off to his right he heard it again, the sound of breaking glass. A shadow in the dark moved and Chris instantly reached for his gun, that wasn’t there.

The two shadows moved quickly to subdue the gunslinger. One of the men pulled his gun and hit Chris over the side of the head with the butt of the handle. Dazed for a moment the gunslinger fall back onto the bed, blood ran down his face where the handle had cracked open the skin. “Did you kill him, Bart?” said the taller of the two men.

“Didn’t hit him hard enough to kill him. Check him, Tex,” answered the man named Bart.


“You check him, I aren’t going near him. Shellburne will knife ya for sure, if you hurt him.” Tex claimed. The tall rebel knew of the gunslinger’s reputation with a gun. The first thing he did when entering the shack was to grab Larabee’s gun from it holster and tossed the ivory handled colt to his friend. A moan from the bed made both men step closer and prod the wounded gunslinger with the barrels of their guns. Seeing his chance, Chris struck out at the nearest man, clipping Bart in the jaw, forcing the small rebel to his knees. Tex pulled back in fear, giving Chris the time he needed to scramble from the bed. Once on his feet, Chris took a right swing at the tall rebel, then he followed up with a left punch to the rebel’s stomach, forcing Tex to the ground. Chris didn’t wait; his colt was tucked into the pants of the first man he had hit. Unarmed and bare foot, the gunslinger stumbled out the door.

“Don’t let him get away,” shouted Bart as he got to his feet.

The angry shouts of the two men drove Chris forward, staggering past the gate to the corral, past Diablo, who was frantic, running around the pen kicking at the rail posts. The horse was desperate to follow his master. Chris made his way blindly around the corral running into the trees. He ran until he stumbled down the creek embankment that wrapped around the western part of his land. Chris slid down the rock-covered slope, his body rolling over the sharp boulders, coming to a halt in the middle of the creek. Shaking the water out of his eyes, Chris staggered to his feet and made his way down the middle of the creek, trying to cover his tracks. The water was getting deeper as Chris stumbled and fell over a large dead tree that had fallen across the creek. The rapid flow of a waterfall near by, brought Chris back to awareness. He glanced around at his surroundings, unarmed he had to find a hiding place til Buck or Vin arrived. He knew when he didn’t show up in town to see the colonel off the others would be concerned and come looking for him. Slowly Chris crawled around the dead trunk and gradually lifted himself up and found the opening hollow and wide enough for him to crawl inside. Feet first, Chris slid down inside the trunk. Gathering the wet foliage with his hands, Chris covered the opening as the voices of the two men searching for him grew louder.

“Where is he?” Bart shouted at Tex. The two men had followed Chris’ trail and lost it after he hit the water.

“Are you sure he came this way?” Tex shouted over his shoulder. Both men were wet from running in the creek. “We don’t have time for this. Thomason is sure to have missed his men by now and ride out to investigate.”

Bart frowned and said, “Told Shellburne it was a mistake to kill those troopers.”

“Well it’s too late now, I think it time we head back to Mexico and cut our losses,” Tex told him. Both men turned at the sound of a bugle blowing off in the distance. “Shellburne is not going to like this,” he said as he pushed past Bart to climb the rocky slope, slipping and sliding till he made his way up the hill, mud caking his hands and face. Bart was not far behind.

The sound of the two men’s voices grew weaker as Chris heard them arguing. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but his body subconsciously shuttered when it heard the name ‘Shellburne’. The return of the soft chirps of birds and the rustling of the brushes told him the men had moved off. Cold and wet, Chris fought to keep his eyes open as blood ran down the side of his face. He needed to return to the shack, get his gun and hunt the two men down on his terms. Chris raised his hand to wipe the blood out of his eyes before crawling out of the dead tree when a piercing stab of pain shot through his head. Too cold and exhausted to fight the pain, Chris closed his weary eyes and collapse, his unconscious body half under water.

It started to hail, the thunderous boom in the sky announced a new day….




Ezra had been up since the crack of dawn. After destroying two white shirts and a rip in his favorite red jacket, he had four of the eight piglets back in their pen. He was on the trail of the fifth. The piglet was heading towards the livery and food. Ezra was sure that Tiny was secretly feeding the pigs. The gambler stationed himself beside the barn door waiting to grab the pig as it came around the corner. He heard the piglet snorting and readied himself. Like lightening the piglet cut round the corner of the barn and Ezra made his lunge…and missed, falling hard. Dust drifting in the air as Ezra pounded the ground in frustration, “This is most undignified,” he said out loud.

“Having trouble, Ezra?” Vin asked, his voice low and smooth. He was leaning against the barn looking down at the gambler. Ezra stood up and brushed the dirt from his vest.

“No… no trouble at all, Mr. Tanner,” he said sarcastically, pulling down the cuffs on his once white sleeves. “Has Mr. Larabee decided to grace us humble peasants with his presence today?” Ezra asked, changing the subject.

“Diablo is not in his stall,” Vin answered. He was worried. He expected Chris two hours ago. A bungle call forced the two men to turn their attention to the front side of the livery stable. C Troop was mounted and ready to ride, Major Winslow and Colonel Thomason stood talking with Buck. Vin turned and motioned with his hand for Ezra to follow him through the barn door to see the soldiers off.

“Well Mr. Wilmington, we have waited long enough. It appears that Mr. Larabee has other business to take care of,” Major Winslow said, put out. With a nod of his head he moved to mount his horse.

Waiting for the two men coming through the barn to join them, Colonel Thomason said abruptly before he whirl around to join his men, “Gentlemen, the army thanks you for the supplies.” Thomason was in a hurry to get out of town. The four scouts that he had sent to keep an eye on Larabee hadn’t return to make their morning report. He briskly made his way to his horse, stepping up on the stirrup he mounted. With a wave of his hand, he advanced C Troop out of town. The soldiers rode two by two following the flags of C Troop and its two officers.

“Well?” Buck stated. Vin continued to stare after the troopers riding out of town. As the last soldier went out of view, the tracker walked back into the barn. A crashing sound and horses’ shrilling came out of the barn and on its heels ran a piglet. Instantly Ezra’s double-barreled derringer was out of his sleeve pointing at the baby pig.

“I believe brother Chris said ‘alive, not dead’,” Josiah reminded him in his deep husky voice. Ezra pushed the derringer back up his sleeve. Turning he followed Vin into the barn and started to saddle his horse, Loki.

“Someone needs to stay in town.” Buck told the other four men. Three pairs of eyes turned toward JD.

Backing away JD said, “No…I’m going,” he wheeled around in time to see Vin with Ezra leading their horses out of the barn. He quickly made his way towards them and entered the barn to saddle his horse, Dusty.

Buck shrugged his shoulders as he looked at the other two men. There would be no one staying. Nathan had to go and the stocky built Josiah was the only one who could control Chris without punching his lights out.

The three men turned as one towards the barn to see Vin leading Darling, her saddle already on. The tracker tied the mare’s bridle to the hitching post. He returned to his own horse, Unalil, checked the mare’s leg behind his saddle then mounted, waiting. Buck nodded to Nathan and Josiah to get their horses. It didn’t take long before Ginger and Dulcinea were saddled and ready to go. After double-checking his cinch, Buck mounted, turned Darling’s head toward the direction of Chris’ shack and said to the others, “Let’s ride.”

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

C Troop was a few miles out of town when Colonel Thomason raised his hand and halted the column.

“You’re thinking the same thing as I am,” Major Winslow stated. It wasn’t a question; he turned and waved to one of his lieutenants. Young Lieutenant Jessie Smith raced to his side, ready to please the major.

“Something is wrong.” Thomason stated, “Sergeant Fargo should have reported back in by now.

Winslow turned to the young lieutenant, “Take two men with you and ride back into town and wire this message to the general.” He paused gathering his next words carefully before speaking to the lieutenant. The young officer pulled out his writing pad to take down notes. “Write word for word, lieutenant. Sir, your suspicions were right. Stop…Shellburne in territory. Stop… Come at all possible speed. Stop…Heading towards young Larabee’s cabin. Stop…Maybe too late. Stop…” He stopped to make sure Smith had written down each word. “Now off with you boy, don’t stop and meet us at the rendezvous point, due south of Coyote Canyon.” The young lieutenant saluted, turned, pointed for two of the horse soldiers to follow him and they rode off, leaving a trail of dust behind them as their horses ran full out.

Colonel Thomason pulled a map out of his saddlebag, opened it up and studied the trail marked out for him by his general, the route to Larabee’s cabin. Thomason glanced up and pointed in a southwest direction where six riders were making their way down the hill. “It looks like those six peacekeepers have the same idea. This should become interesting, to say the least,” the colonel told the major. With a wave of his hand forward, Major Winslow moved the column, slowly and as quietly as possible following the six riders.