The Border Empire

Table of Contents

 

 

They were all riding deeper and closer to the evil empire's first outpost, carved by the Sandlin gang out of mountain and desert.

 

One was Wes Stone, his father's son down to his lightning hands and the Colts in his greased holsters.

 

Another was the girl Maria, a victim of a brutal attack, now seeking revenge.

 

The other, a bandito named El Lobo, who had his own score to settle with men whose crimes sickened even an outlaw like him.

 

There were three of them—and against them countless killers under the command of a monstrous mastermind who had never been outsmarted or outfought. The numbers were bad—but the hunting would be good.

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First published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library,
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First Printing, July 1997

Copyright © Ralph Compton, 1997
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eISBN : 978-1-101-12713-1

 

“C
ome in, Wes Stone,” said Texas Ranger Bodie West. “I've been expecting you.”

“You've heard, then,” Wes said.

“That you're the son of Nathan Stone,” said West. “I suspected as much the first time I ever saw you. You're the very image of him.”

“A damned shame somebody didn't tell me about him before he was lying dead in the streets of El Paso,” Wes said. “I've taken his weapons and his name, and before God, I'll track down the bunch that killed him. They're going to die. To the last man.”

“I can understand your feelings,” said West. “What became of Nathan's dog?”

“Empty's with my horse,” Wes said. “He followed me from El Paso, but I still don't have his confidence. I reckon I'm a poor second to Nathan Stone.”

“Give him time,” said West. “He's an intelligent animal.”

“I want to know everything you can tell me about my father,” Wes said.

“It's strange that you should arrive at this particular time,” said West. “Byron Silver is in town, from Washington. He probably knew Nathan Stone better than any man alive. I know he'll want to meet you. How long do you plan to stay?”

“As long as it takes to learn about my father,” Wes said.

“Then you'd better take advantage of havin' Silver and me here at the same time,” said West. “Many of the men who knew Nathan—King Fisher, Ben Thompson, Wild Bill Hickok—are dead. Why don't you have supper with Silver and me? Then we'll come back here to the office, make a pot of coffee ...”

“I'd like that,” Wes said.

“We'll be at the Star Cafe, at five,” said West.

Bodie West stared at the door for a long time after Wes had gone, struck by the uncanny likeness of the young man to his father. West was familiar with the Sandlin gang, the outlaws who had gunned down Nathan Stone. The gang hung out below the border, in Old Mexico, and it was against international law for an American to venture there. Should young Wes cross the Rio Grande, his life wouldn't be worth a plugged peso, nor could he expect help from his own land. But Wes was the very image of his father, and Nathan Stone would have crossed the border without a moment's hesitation.

 

Texas Ranger Bodie West and Byron Silver got to their feet as Wes Stone entered the cafe.

“Silver,” said West, “this is Wes, Nathan's son.”

“My God,” Silver said. “You're Nathan Stone all over again.”

He offered his hand and Wes took it. He didn't look in the least like Wes had thought he might. He looked to be in his late thirties, with gray eyes, and his black hair had some silver at the temples. His Stetson was flat-crowned, with silver conchos. The rest of his attire was that of a Texas cowboy, down to his run-over boots.

“You don't look much like I expected,” said Wes.

Silver laughed. “I'm just a Texas cowboy at heart, but I just never took to wrasslin' cows. I'd heard of you, but didn't know how to reach you. It's mighty fortunate, me bein' here. I hope you'll be as much a friend to me as your daddy was.”

“I hope so, too,” Wes said. “I want to know as much about him as you can tell me.”

“That'll be a lot,” said Silver. “Do you have Nathan's watch?”

“Yes, sir,” Wes replied. “That, his Colts, his Winchester, and his name.”

“There's a story behind that watch,” said Silver. “Nathan and me come within a gnat's eyelash of gettin' ourselves killed. I got ventilated, and Nathan finished the job alone.”
¹

Silver talked for an hour. Bodie West, hearing the story for the first time, listened in rapt attention. Young Wes Stone sat spellbound, his eyes aflame with excitement. There was a long moment of silence when Silver had finished.

“I never got all the facts,” Bodie West said, “because Nathan wouldn't talk about it, but we pieced the story together. Captain Sage Jennings, one of the finest Texas Rangers who ever lived, was shot in the back. He was left paralyzed, unable to move, but he still had one thing going for him. Nathan Stone was his friend, and Nathan went after the bushwhacker. We don't know how many weeks or months Nathan was on the trail, but we do know that the hombre that shot Captain Jennings paid with his life.“
²

“That explains the ranger shield my father had,” said Wes.

“Yes,” West said. “He never wore the badge himself, although I wanted him to. When Captain Jennings died, he wanted Nathan to have that shield, and I presented it to him.”

Having finished their meal, the trio returned to Bodie West's small office. There, the two men took turns relating to Wes the legends that surrounded Nathan Stone. Far into the night they talked, until they were interrupted by a scratching at the door. When West opened the door, a gaunt hound trotted into the room. Empty, Nathan's dog, had been there before. He looked at West and then at Silver, for he knew them both. He then lay down beside Wes Stone's chair.

“He's beginning to accept you,” said West. “Nathan would be pleased.”

“I'm obliged to both of you,” Wes said. “All I have of my father is what I've learned from those of you who knew him. I don't know when—or if—I'll see either of you again. Tomorrow I'm riding after my father's killers.”

“The Sandlin gang,” said Bodie West. “They'll kill you and relish every moment of it.”

“I know,” Wes replied. “There's a price on my head. But Nathan Stone died for me, and if that's what it takes, I can do no less for him.”

“I know how you feel,” said Silver, “but I'm not sure Nathan would approve of that. I learned, over the years, that he came west riding a vengeance trail. I know he gunned down seven men, and they all deserved to die. But it changed Nathan's life in a way that he wasn't able to accept. He was lightning-quick with a pistol, drawing with either hand, but it was a blessing and a curse. He was blessed with a skill that kept him alive, but was cursed with the need to defend his reputation as a fast gun. He can't speak for himself, so I'm speaking for him. I don't believe he'd want that kind of life for you.”

“I reckon not,” Wes said. “My mother died the day I was born, goin' to her grave without me or anybody else knowin' my father was Nathan Stone. Somehow, he knew. But he respected her wishes and kept it from me. After he was dead, Molly Horrell told me the truth. I understand my mother's reasoning, and my father's respect for her, but when the trail forks, a man must make his own decision. I've made mine.”

“Nathan Stone couldn't have said it better,” Silver said, “but as you know, I represent the attorney general's office, and I have to warn you that it's a violation of international law for you to ride into Mexico for the purpose you have in mind.”