The Starshine Kid: Arroyo Grande – Fiction Novel – Final Chapter – Part 20 of 20

The Starshine Kid: Arroyo Grande
Final Chapter –  Part 20 of 20

A New Beginning

The Starshine Kid, Antonio from Antonio, and Clifford Connors rode into Iron Creek without fanfare. Connors was secured in the jail, temporarily manned by a Deputy Sheriff on loan until the town of Iron Creek could secure a new, more permanent, lawman to take the reins of justice firm in hand and maintain the peace.

As Adam King and Anton exited the jail, Della ran to greet them. She could not stop hugging either one long enough to speak, tears flowed down her rosy cheeks.

Eventually she spoke, “I was so worried about you two, just worried sick, I might say.”

The two men looked at each other and smiled.

“Oh, I know… it’s so silly of me, you bein’ lawmen and all, but—”

“No need to get all frazzled, Della,” Anton attempted to comfort his sister, “after all, we’re here now and as safe and sound as a bank vault guarded by a military battalion.”

“And to comfort you more my sweet Della,” the Starshine Kid spoke affirmatively, “I’ve been doin’ a lot of thinkin’ whilst I was out on the trail this time and—”

A shot rang out in the near distance as two men stumbled their way out of the Imperial Saloon, guns in hand.

“You callin’ me a cheat and a liar, you double-tongued spittoon lizard?” one large man with a full beard and black hair inquired of the other man.

The second man was thin and frail looking and sported quite a cough. The two had managed to get into an argument over the finer details of the poker game both participated in.

Marshal King hailed the two, “Gentlemen, I’m a US Marshal and we don’t want any trouble stirrin’ up in this fine town. Do you think it might be possible to settle your disputes in another way than spittin’ lead at each other?”

The thin man replied in bewilderment, “I thought me there weren’t no lawman in this town, not none permanent, anyways.”

“I guess we figured wrong,” the large, bearded man stated rather humbly for someone holding a pistol. “We ain’t lookin’ for no lawman troubles, Marshal.” He looked at his opponent and continued, “Are we now?”

“No, no… no trouble,” the thin man confirmed. The two holstered their guns and returned to continue their somewhat friendly game of poker inside the saloon.

“Never a dull moment in Iron Creek,” Anton commented.

The three laughed before making the quick decision to join the festivities, whatever those festivities might be, inside the Imperial Saloon.

The sawdust covered floor, large mirrored wall, and the billowy smoke filled air gave the establishment the ambiance it deserved. Though the town was relatively peaceful most days, at least on those rare occasions experienced most everywhere time and chance meet up, action of one sort or another could spark up faster than a mountain brush fire from a lightning strike. That ensured the town a status that guaranteed it to be free from boredom, at least on occasion.

Anton decided to leave his sister and Marshal King alone and joined the poker game.

Adam and Della spent the next few hours catching up on their lives. They watched as patrons came and patrons left, and watched the poker players get into a routine fight now and then, but they watched each other most of all.

“What are your plans, Adam?” Della inquired as she took a sip of tea, “Future plans, that is? I’m a might bit curious, as you might have guessed.”

The Starshine Kid removed his hat, gazed into the large mirrored wall to check how he looked, then got down on one knee right there in front of God and a bar full of thirsty patrons.

“Well, Della,” Adam swallowed long and hard, “I been meanin’ to ask you somethin’.”

“Oh, Adam, yes… yes… yes!”

“You ain’t heard the question yet,” the surprised lawman groaned. “Maybe it be that I just dropped somethin’ here on the floor and was fixin’ to fetch it.”

“You better quit funnin’ with me, Adam Henry King. Life is just speedin’ by right now.”

The saloon became as silent as a man hung at the end of a noose, but quickly erupted into cheers as the Marshal spurted out his fateful question regarding the blessedness of matrimony and sharing a future with the woman he loved. With the sound of another ‘Yes!’ from Della and ‘Drinks are on me!’ from the Starshine Kid, the festivities continued.

“Congratulations,” a well-dressed man approached the table where Adam and Della sat.

“Thank you, sir,” Della replied, quickly followed by a similar comment from Marshal King.

“The name’s Shane, Shane Kirk. I’m the Mayor here in Iron Creek among other things.”

“Well, Mayor, is there anything we can do for you or help you with?” Adam inquired.

The Mayor took a chair from a nearby table and sat down facing the two, “There’s no pressure and I have no expectations, but…” the Mayor looked almost apologetic as he continued his conversation, “we are in need of a local lawman for the town here. I am well aware that you are a US Marshal, Mr. King, but my curiosity just got the best of me tonight.”

“How’s that, Mayor?” asked Adam.

“With you two getting married and all, well… I thought you may want to transition into a more local type of law keeping, the kind that gets a man home at night for a fresh cooked meal and into a warm bed; a life that has few days and nights away from home, if you understand the point at which I am trying to arrive.”

Della’s eyes perked up and shone like stars. She attempted to conceal her excitement from Adam, but the experienced lawman could read her emotions easier than following sign across a freshly snow-graced mountain clearing.

Wanting to create a little fun, Adam replied, “I’m not too sure if the future Mrs. King would approve of—”

Interrupting faster than her brother Anton could draw his pistols, Della said, “I wouldn’t mind one bit, Adam. Not one bit!”

Adam laughed and told the Mayor he would be mighty proud to accept the job. “County Sheriff, Town Marshal, Provincial Constable… whatever title you wish for the job, Mayor, suits me just fine.”

“Thank you, Mr. King, thank you very much. The town housing board has a mighty fine home available for the person taking the job. It was actually the former mansion of a man who made his fortune in gold. He donated it to Iron Creek wishing for the residence to be used to house the town’s lawman. I’ll get it spruced up forthright.”

“I’m—” Adam almost spoke out of habit as a single man, “a… that is, we, we are mighty obliged to you, sir, Mayor Kirk, that is.”

“Call me Shane, please, except at formal functions, of course.”

“Of course,” Della confirmed, “of course.”

“I’ll have another sarsaparilla,” the Starshine Kid hailed the bartender, “and more tea for the pretty lady.”

“Did I hear correctly?” the familiar voice of Anton questioned from behind the newly engaged pair. “Settlin’ down here in Iron Creek?”

“Yep, you heard right.”

“Well, let me know if you be needin’ a deputy or somethin’” Anton hinted, “I kinda like this place.

The three enjoyed the rest of their evening, planning and dreaming of their futures together this side of the Arroyo Grande.

The End

I hope you have enjoyed this series.

________________________________

The Starshine Kid: Arroyo Grande

By Royce A Ratterman

© All Rights Reserved

Cover Art & Illustrations by Erlend Evensen

The characters, locales, enterprises, entities, and events herein are entirely fictional and intended for educational and entertainment purposes. Content portrayals do not reflect any actual events, locales, entities, or any individuals living or deceased.

Dedicated to all of those who lost their lives establishing peace, safety, and harmony in the days of the Old West

The Starshine Kid: Arroyo Grande - Fiction Novel - Part 19 of 20

The Starshine Kid: Arroyo Grande
Part 19 of 20

 

The Nick of Time

 

The Starshine Kid and Clifford Connors faded in and out of consciousness over the next couple of hours, their faces scorched in the rays of the desert sun.

The two buried sufferers continued to drift in and out of reality, not knowing if they were awake, dreaming, or simply hallucinating. When the coolness of water rushed over their heads and into their parched mouths, hope returned like a rushing river in a long dry arroyo after a fresh summer rain.

“The name’s Parsons, Nick Parsons. It’ll be alright fellas.” Nick wore a wide-brimmed, slate-colored rancher’s hat. His voice and mannerisms were prepossessing.

After being released from their sandy graves and filled with enough water to regain enough of their senses to function, another man on horseback rode swiftly into sight… Anton.

“Well, now, this just ain’t the type of romantic reunion I had in mind when I told you to meet Della at Iron Creek,” Anton jested. “How did you go and mess that meetin’ up like this, Marshal Adam King? Or should I call you the Starshine Kid…or maybe the Sand King?”

“Very funny, I guess I should thank you two for savin’ our dried out hides,” Adam replied, coughing slightly.

Clifford Connors remained quiet.

“Yeah,” Nick answered, “We thought about waitin’ a spell and maybe using them hides of yours to make some new saddlebags, but—”

“Ok, ok, now,” Starshine interrupted, “lets dispense with the funnin’ for the time bein’.”

“How’d you two find us?” Adam questioned.

“We’ve been followin’ your trail for a spell… just in case. Couldn’t let my sister’s man get himself into trouble now, could I?” Anton laughed. “I picked up Nick not long after leavin’ Iron Creek after I got patched up. My wounds weren’t so bad after all.”

“I bet they’d have to tie you down before you’d admit to any wounds bein’ bad enough to keep you from ramblin’ on with life,” a smiling Marshal King commented.

“What shall we be doin’ with the likes of him?” Nick motioned toward Clifford Connors. “He be the outlaw you’ve been after, Marshal?”

The Starshine Kid took another long swig of water from a canteen fed to him by the friendly rancher, then answered, “It’s a long story, but he’ll be standin’ trial and I promised to put in a word or two for him.” Once free from their pits of sand, Adam’s and Clifford’s spirits perked up and their strengths returned.

The group discussed Anton’s wounds, Marshal King’s graze wound, burial in sand and how Anton had hunted down the renegade Indians, including the remaining Brave that tended to the marshal and Connors, and convinced them to return to the lands where they came from.

Anton clarified some supporting facts, “It seems those foreign Indians were on some sort of expedition for hidden Spanish gold. They spoke a mix of their dialect and Spanish, but I am fairly certain that’s what they was a doin’. Someone up and stole their spare horses and some cattle they had recently traded for, so they just hunted them outlaws down to recover their own property.”

The Starshine Kid added, “Looks like they ain’t no fonder of outlaws than we are.”

Anton laughed, “Reckon not, and they sure ain’t soft on crime.”

Clifford Connors only listened in remorse.

The group decided to camp for the night at the halfway point to Iron Creek, the four trail riders settled in next to a small spring located in a grove of willow trees. Jerky was all that was on the menu for the evening, along with coffee strong enough to strip imported paint off of a twenty-year-old steam locomotive.

Nick was a strong and sometimes stubborn man. He was close to six feet in height, of medium build, chestnut hair, sandy mustache, light eyebrows, and possessed piercing pale slate-blue eyes. As a self-made wealthy rancher he knew the value of a long, hard day’s work. As the men sat around the fire Nick told the tale of the legendary folk icon Grady Debuer…

This be the tale of Grady Debuer,

A gun fightin’ man he was for sure,

With pistols ablaze and bullets a flight,

Grady was one who liked a good fight.

He stood tall and true, lean, strong and tough,

Being good against Grady was not good enough…

The old songster went on for almost fifteen minutes with his oratory ballad. More tree branches graced the fire and hot coffee filled the group’s tired tummies. The tough-as-nails rancher never paused for one moment before finishing…

…Then one morn it came for Grady’s doom day,

Not a whisper, not a word, only those silent did pray,

The bullets flew fast and right on their mark,

Only now it was Grady who’d lay down in the dark.

On a grassy green hill they laid Grady to rest,

Down in the ground with the worst and the best,

But his story lingers on as trail tales do,

Told around campfires to me and to you!

“At that I reckon I’ll be turnin’ in,” Marshal King announced. “It has been one long couple of days.”

All four men agreed on the matter then fell asleep under the night’s open sky, each staring at heaven’s stars, rolled out like a blanket of light from one end of the horizon to the other.

Nick rode on alone in the morning, returning to his ranch in the foothills to the west, while the remainder of the group rode on into Iron Creek.

The ride back to Iron Creek gave the Starshine Kid the time he needed to continue with his thinking and ponderings. He was not getting any younger and the years of being a lawman were beginning to show. Oh, he was still as fast as lightning when it came to handling his guns, but that deep down burning desire to be out on the trail hunting outlaws was nowhere near as big a flame as it had been in the past. Maybe it was Della and his desire to have a life with her and raise a family, maybe it was only the dimming of the lawman’s eye’s spark, or maybe it was just time for a change. He knew what he wanted, but had a hard time admitting it to himself after years of trail riding freedom and being that special hero that a town, any town, needed from time to time.

“What’s on your mind, Marshal?” a curious Clifford Connors inquired of the preoccupied lawman. “You thinkin’ or just all burned out like a church candle after Christmas Eve services?”

“Yeah,” Anton agreed, “you look like your thinkin’ took a long trip back east or somethin’.”

“Just thinkin’ ‘bout life and all. I’ve had a mighty fine one at that.”

Connors straightened up in his saddle and said, “I bet you got a tale or two in you from your many years of bein’ a lawman, I’d bet my grandmother’s favorite knittin’ on that.”

Marshal King responded, “Your grandmother’s knittin’?”

The trio laughed long and hard on that saying.

*** Part 20: A New Beginning ***

________________________________

The Starshine Kid: Arroyo Grande

By Royce A Ratterman

© All Rights Reserved

Cover Art & Illustrations by Erlend Evensen

The characters, locales, enterprises, entities, and events herein are entirely fictional and intended for educational and entertainment purposes. Content portrayals do not reflect any actual events, locales, entities, or any individuals living or deceased.

Dedicated to all of those who lost their lives establishing peace, safety, and harmony in the days of the Old West

The Starshine Kid: Arroyo Grande - Fiction Novel - Part 18 of 20

The Starshine Kid: Arroyo Grande
Part 18 of 20

 

Up To My Neck

 

The sun bore down hot on the Starshine Kid as he followed the sign left along the trail by the mysterious band of Indians and their white captive. Marshal King came to the conclusion that these renegades must be keeping Clifford Connors alive for either some type of tribal trial, or for the pleasure of torturing him at a later more opportune time, once the group arrived at their final destination. As Adam King rounded a large boulder, a jumper from above laid him out flat upon the earth like a long dried up meadow muffin alongside a well-traveled pioneer migration trail. The Starshine Kid never knew what hit him.

The next few hours passed by without Marshal King’s conscience notice. Night crept across the distant hills and the evening stars poked their shiny faces out from the heavens above, one by one. Slowly, the crisp, cool smell of night air wakened the marshal. Groggy and thirsty, he scanned the area in front of him with blurred vision.

I’m paralyzed, he thought, I can’t move.

Marshal King struggled under the night sky, wiggling and twisting like a live Egyptian mummy wrapped up tight in grave wrappings. He soon realized that he was upright and buried up to his neck in sand. As he relaxed to contemplate his fate, he slipped back into unconsciousness.

“Marshal, Marshal,” a voice addressed the Starshine Kid in the light of the desert dawn. “Marshal, you ok?”

“What, who—”

“It’s Connors, Clifford Connors. I recognized who you was last evening. Looks like we are gonna be sharin’ a future together. That’s quite a wallop you got on the side of your head. I can see me a patch of dried up blood.”

Still unable to fully awake, Adam simply said, “I’m a might thirsty.”

“These Indians ain’t gonna let us die just yet. They be bringin’ some water pretty soon I imagine. You was out cold when one of ‘em tried to give you some a bit earlier, just before the sky started to lighten up.”

Coming around slowly, Marshal King longed for the days when he slept with one eye open and with his finger on his pistol’s trigger. “If I only had a gun.”

“That gun wouldn’t do you no good, Marshal, buried down under this sand with your hands tied up,” Clifford commented.

“I guess you’re right, but at least I’d feel a right might better.”

“I get ya on that, Marshal.”

In the distance the brightening morning light revealed three other heads adorning the desert’s painted sand.

“Who are they,” inquired the Marshal, “more partners of yours?”

Looking as though he had swallowed a frog, Connors replied, “Were, they were some of my compatriots a long time ago.”

“Compatriots, now that’s a big word.”

Connors explained a bit to the Marshal to clarify the matter, “Compatriots, sort of. Years ago they ran across me on the trail and convinced me to ride with them. Said I owed them a favor on account of my brothers and all. Mean fellas totin’ pistols is mighty convincin’ to a man.”

Marshal King gazed across at the three lifeless heads, “They been dead long?”

“They quit breathin’ about the time you was buried, Marshal. But I ain’t got no mind to how them three got here or how long they been buried. I just knows them from before.”

Marshal King wondered how he and Connors could breathe without the crushing effects of the sand’s weight bearing down on their chests each time a breath of precious air was exhaled, “How come this sand ain’t chokin’ us and crushing out our breathin’?”

“After strappin’ our hands to our sides them Indians put some kind of thing weaved together made of sticks around our upper bodies. It’s got just enough space to ease our breathin’, I reckon. I guess they didn’t do that for them three over there.”

The Starshine Kid had never heard of such a practice and wondered why these particular Indians would want to keep them alive. What purpose could that serve? he pondered.

“I guess I don’t need to remind you that you are under arrest, Connors.”

“Right about now I wish I was in a nice small-town jail, Marshal. I never had a mind to be involved with my brothers’ schemes, but, you know, family and all. It weren’t like I had much of a choice. I always did try to stay in the background as much as was humanly possible.”

A Brave arrived and poured water into the mouths of the thirsty prisoners and then departed quickly. The Indian was tall and lean with a muscular build. His long black hair was braided in a fashion foreign to Marshal King’s experiences, but he had heard of this practice from travelers who dared to venture far south of the Mexican border and deep into the lands of the southern Americas.

Connors continued his conversation, “I always had me a mind to be a law abidin’ citizen. A rancher or somethin’, but my brothers, well….”

“Sometimes it’s hard to break away and get a clean start,” Marshal King acknowledged, “mighty hard.”

“I could do that now, in fact that was what I was plannin’ on doin’ when I rode away leavin’ my departed brothers behind, but it looks like I’m gonna be reapin’ what my brothers and I have sown.”

Marshal King pondered Connors’ words carefully, then replied, “But you did kill that jailer and you’re gonna have to stand trial for that crime.”

As nervous as a bird surrounded by felines, Connors replied, “I swear I didn’t kill the man, I was just on the verge of lettin’ him go free. I’d just got off of my horse—”

“Y-o-u-r horse? Yours?”

“Well, Marshal….”

“Ok, ok, Clifford, go ahead and speak your mind.”

“Anyways, a shot rang out and the fella was dead before he hit the ground, I swear, so I mounted up and rode for the wind. That be why I didn’t stay around as to bury the man, Marshal.”

“I’ll make you a deal, Connors,” Starshine promised, “if you promise on the Holy Bible and your grandmother’s grave that you’ll be a law abidin’ hard workin’ citizen, I’ll plead your case myself before the judge to let you make a try at it. It may be that under some sort of legal supervision you might get your chance to prove yourself, Connors.”

“You’d do that for the likes of me?”

“I believe every man can make a change in life if he has the desire and the chance. Havin’ one without the other is like havin’ a dyin’ hunger and no food to quench it.”

“I’ve a mind to hold ya to that promise Marshal, if’n we gets outta this situation.”

As the day progressed under the hot sun, the lone Indian Brave returned every two hours, or so, to quench his captives’ thirst, but there was no sign of the other Braves. This perplexed both Marshal King and Clifford Connors.

“What do you think might be goin’ on with the other Indians, Marshal? Think they be on a raid or somethin’? They musta been awful quiet when they left, or maybe they left after buryin’ you. There was a lot of ruckus goin’ on then, I mighta missed hearin’ them ridin’ off.”

“I’ve been tryin’ to figure that one out for some time now, Connors, but… if only, if only we could see a bit more of where that Brave is comin’ from and goin’ to.”

“He seemed a might bit unsettled the last couple of times he’s been a comin’ round, Marshal. May be that somethin’ ain’t right.”

“I would agree with that. Let’s just hope he ain’t getting’ too nervous and decide to rid himself of us or stop givin’ us water.”

The sun beat down hard for the next few hours and the Brave did not return. The two sand kingdom captives could only hope… only hope for a miracle.

 

*** Part 19: The Nick of Time ***

________________________________

The Starshine Kid: Arroyo Grande

By Royce A Ratterman

© All Rights Reserved

Cover Art & Illustrations by Erlend Evensen

The characters, locales, enterprises, entities, and events herein are entirely fictional and intended for educational and entertainment purposes. Content portrayals do not reflect any actual events, locales, entities, or any individuals living or deceased.

Dedicated to all of those who lost their lives establishing peace, safety, and harmony in the days of the Old West