Saturday, March 1, 2025

Sunday Snippet - More From The Birthright of Ezekiel Wilson

 The Birthright of Ezekiel Wilson (World Castle Publishing) released this past Monday, March 24.  Scroll past the lovely cover for a new snippet followed by links!


Now available as an eBook, paperback, hardcover and audio.


 

                                               

 

Laredo, Texas

 

 

            He'd come to spend a pleasant evening in the saloon, a diversion not available back on the ranch, and ended up in a brawl. Ezekiel had thrown the first punch, but once the man he'd hit rose, he got pummeled by the man's brawny fists. As if that wasn't enough, the son of a gun's trio of friends joined the fray. Bare knuckles fighting could be harsh at the best of times but these men didn't fight fair. In addition to their fists, they kicked with force, used their fingers and thumbs to gouge both eyes and throat and didn't restrain from using their teeth. If anyone pulled a gun, Zeke knew he'd be a goner, for he'd left his with his horse out of some benighted sense of honor. Then he saw the flash of a blade and fought harder.

            A heavy beer glass shattered over his head, which hurt and caused him to see stars. Someone walloped him across the back with a heavy wooden chair. The air rang with curses of the vilest language and the hoarse shouts of men locked in battle. Ezekiel, who had held his own in many a fistfight, was outnumbered. Somehow, he'd become both underdog and victim.

            In the fray, he heard women screaming, some of the sporting gals, he figured, and Mary shouting, but if it was meant to stop the action, it served to spur it on instead. The men had been bored and spoiling for a fight as a diversion because Zeke doubted all of them still remembered the night Kate strolled into the bar or that he'd left with her.

            The one thing he did know was he was going to be hurt and badly.

            The fray seemed to last forever. It went on and on as he was hit, slapped, fisted, kicked, and, at some point, stabbed. Ezekiel felt the sharp slice of a well-honed knife blade across his right side, just below his ribs. Another jab cut deep into his upper thigh. He suspected at least one of his ribs was cracked. Another might be broken.

            It ended when Mary fired a double-barreled shotgun just above the fighting crowd. The blast echoed like thunder and chipped the wall. When she loaded it again and said, "This time if I shoot, I'm aiming for one of you sorry rascals. Break it up and git out of my place."

            Hurting, bruised, and bleeding in more than one spot, Ezekiel didn't know whether or not he could walk. One of his old pals from the livery, who'd had the sense to stay out of the fight, helped him limp out of the saloon. He aided him to the barn behind the boarding house on Grant and helped him mount.

            "If I was you, pard, I'd light a shuck and get out of town," he said. "Can you make it?"

            Ezekiel doubted it, but he was willing to try. He just wanted to get home, where Katie could tend his wounds and Boone could holler at him. His body ached to lay down. Some blood trickled from his side, but the thigh slash worried him. He'd taken time to cinch his belt around it to slow the flow.

            Riding at night was a poor idea at best. Riding at night, wounded and hurt, was begging for disaster. He rode clutching the saddle horn to keep his seat, and he managed for a good part of the way home. As he grew weaker, though, his head ached and spun. He lost his seat, falling hard to the ground somewhere between Laredo and the ranch. His last conscious thought was a hope he wouldn't land on a rattler or cause more injuries. Then he smacked the ground, and everything went black.

                                                            ***

At the Double Deuce Ranch

 

            When Ezekiel didn't return to the ranch by late Friday, no one thought much about it. It was sensible to stay in Laredo rather than ride recklessly in the dark and through the heat. But when Saturday dawned, another hot and hellish humid day, and he didn't show up by noon, Boone began to worry. Still, he went about his daily routine and expected his youngest brother to arrive at any time.

            Just as Boone sat down to his dinner at noon, Jacob arrived with a frown.

            "What is it?" Boone asked as he took the first bite of the frijoles Rachel had made. From Jacob's expression, he expected a problem, something with the stock or one of the hands.

            "Is Ezekiel back from town?"

            "I don't reckon he is," Boone said. "I ain't seen him."

            "Me neither, but his horse is back. He showed up around half an hour ago, but there's no sign of Zeke."

            Boone laid down his spoon. "Where's the horse at?"

            "Found him munching on clover down by the small cabin," he said. "I put him up in the corral. All Ezekiel's gear was on Candy, his rifle, saddlebags, and all. Got me scared, especially 'cause there's blood on the saddle and on the horse's right flank."

            His gut clenched into a hard, tight ball. "Is the horse hurt?"

            Jacob shook his head. "I went over him inch by inch, and he's okay. It's the kid I'm worried about. Where do you reckon he's at?"

            "I don't rightly know," Boone replied. "Fetch Moses and then gather the hands, would you? We're gonna have to go look for him, especially if he's hurt."

            Rachel rose and stood behind her husband, her hands on his shoulders. "Boone?"

            "Honey, this ain’t good. I'm gonna have to go hunt for Ezekiel."

            "You need to finish eating first."

            He put his hands over hers. "I cain't. I'm not hungry now."

            "You'll find him, Boone."

            "I surely hope so, and fast."

            Moses rushed in, wild-eyed. "Jacob told me. I'm ready to ride. He went on to get all the ranch hands and Liam. Mattie's crying. She's that perturbed."

            "What about Katie?"

            Moses stared. "I reckon she'll be upset, Boone, but…"

            "The woman has a way of knowing things," Boone said. "Maybe she'll have some insight into where Ezekiel might be found. It's going to be hard. There's a lot of country between here and Laredo."

            He didn't mention the obvious – if they saw buzzards circling, they'd likely found him. The three Wilson brothers set out within the hour with six ranch hands, including Liam. Boone directed them to head in different directions, all toward Laredo.

            "Fire one shot if you find him," he said. "I'll come to where you're at. And, if he's gone, fire two shots so I'll know what we're dealing with."

            Katie, who didn't ride, stood beside Rachel and Mattie to watch them go. She had wanted to accompany them, but Boone said she would slow them down, so she remained.

            "He's alive," she had said in her rich brogue. "But he's hurt. When ye find him, bring him to the wee cabin, and I'll tend to him."

            Boone nodded and sent a silent prayer heavenward. He hoped Katie was correct. "Let's ride, boys, and see if we cain't find him before dark."

            He took the route that he used to reach Laredo, figuring it was the way Ezekiel would travel. Jacob rode beside him. They said little as they rode, although Boone pushed Sprat to a gallop, riding so fast and heedlessly that Jacob cautioned him.

            "Go easy, Boone, or you'll take a spill or lame the horse."

            Boone pulled the reins to slow Sprat's gait. "I just want to find him."

            "I know. So do I."

            It took a good five hours riding to reach Laredo, maybe four on a good day, and they were an hour out when a gunshot echoed to the north. Boone listened, fearful there would be a second, but when there wasn't, he wheeled Sprat and headed in that direction, Jacob riding close behind. It wasn't more than a mile, but it seemed like twenty.

            Boone spotted Moses on the ground beside Ezekiel. The younger man's trouser leg was dark with blood, and his eyes were closed. Bruises mottled his face, and both eyes were black. More blood stained his shirt and vest.

            "He's breathin'," Moses said when Boone dismounted. "But he's hurt terrible bad. Been beat up, it appears, and stabbed."

            "Has he come around at all?"

            "No, but he's groaned once or twice. We need to get him back to the ranch."

            Boone knelt down beside Ezekiel with his canteen. "Yeah. I reckon he needs water, too, if I can get him to drink. Ezekiel!"

            He put the canteen to his brother's lips, and he drank a little. Boone repeated his name twice, and Zeke opened his eyes as much as he could since they were no more than slits around the swelling.

            "Boone," he rasped.

            "I'm here, Ezekiel. We're gonna get you home. Your Katie's waiting."

            "Hurts," he moaned.

            "I reckon it does, kid," Boone said as he tried to assess the injuries. He pushed away Zeke's shirt to reveal a slash just below his ribs that didn't appear to be deep. Boone probed further and slit his brother's trousers to see the source of the blood. A deep wound still leaked blood and would have bled more except for the belt cinched around Ezekiel's upper thigh. Boone removed it, and the blood flow increased.

            "That looks awful," Jacob said. "Appears he's lost a fair bit of blood."

            Boone nodded. "And he's still bleeding."

            He fashioned a better tourniquet and tied it in place. Liam rode up with Deacon Lee.

            "He's alive, then?" Liam asked.

            "He is, but we'd best get him home."

            "Let's put him across the saddle," Liam suggested.

            Boone disagreed and shook his head. "Unless we fasten him down, he's liable to get dumped. I'll take him."

            "How?" Moses asked.

            "In front of me on the saddle," Boone said. "It's the only way I know that will work."

            A slight grin teased Moses' lips, and he said, "Like when he was little."

            "Yeah, just like that, though he's a mite bigger now."

            At fifteen, Boone had often taken his smallest brother with him, putting him before him on the horse and holding him tight. Zeke had always vowed it was how he learned to ride.

            "Hoist him up here," he told the others, so Moses, Jacob, Liam, and Deke maneuvered Ezekiel's limp body up in front of Boone. Boone grasped his brother tight with one hand and held the reins with the other. "Let's go, boys."

            He kicked Sprat into a gallop, and the others followed. The ride seemed longer than ever before, and it took every bit of strength he had to keep Ezekiel from tumbling from the horse. He'd slipped into unconsciousness again, which was likely for the best because the fast ride joggled them both. Zeke was a heavy burden but Boone managed to hang onto him, though he feared he would suffer for it later.

            Boone rode straight to the small cabin. Katie stood outside, back straight, waiting. Mattie stood at her side with baby Ellie on her hip, and Rachel, flanked by their three, was there. Jacob and Moses dismounted, then helped haul Zeke from Boone's horse.

            "He's alive," Boone told them as he dismounted. "Hurt pretty bad, but he's alive."

            As if to prove that fact, Ezekiel roused to groan.

            "Put him on the bed with no more than a sheet," Katie told them. "I've things ready to see to him."

            "G mo chroide," Katie said as Ezekiel opened his eyes as much as he could. "Love, I'll have ye right soon enough."

            "Katie," Zeke mumbled. "Darlin'."

            "I'm right here, Ezekiel," she said. "Whatever happened to ye?"

            "Fight."

            As she spoke to him, she stripped away his shirt and trousers, leaving him in his underwear only. Boone observed as she worked with gentle hands and a light touch.

            "Ye told me ye were done with the brawlin'," she said, though her voice was tender.

            Zeke struggled to say something, but Boone intervened.

            "You can ask him the details later," he told her. "I'd like to know myself but he needs tending."

            Boone stood at the foot of the bed and Moses on the side across from Katie. "If you don't need Mattie, I'll take her home," he said.

            "If I need her, I'll send for her," Katie replied.

            Until she spoke, Boone hadn't realized that his daughter was present. "I'll help with Z," Mima said, coming into sight behind Boone.

            "I'll take her home," he told Katie. "Or someone will. Rachel can take the little ones home, too."

            "She can stay," Katie said. "How old are ye, leannán?"

            "Six," the little girl said.

            "Six in a few weeks," Boone corrected.

            "She's old enough, Boone, and I can use her help."

            He shrugged. "Fair enough, then, but I'll stay too."

            "Thank ye," she replied. "I may well have need of ye too."

            Boone pulled a chair from the table and leaned it against the wall, near the bed, but where he wouldn't be in the way. He tilted it back on two legs. If he weren’t so tense, he could sleep standing up.

            With direction, Jemima Ann washed her uncle's battered face with a wet cloth, talking to him in a sweet singsong. As the dirt was removed, the bruises were more obvious. Either in response to the child or to the spring cold water, Ezekiel opened his eyes a fraction.

            "Feels good, Mima," he said, which brought a smile to the girl's face.

            "I'm awfully sorry you got hurt, Z," Mima told him.

            His split lips curved in a slight smile. "Me, too, baby girl."

            Katie had her put a cold compress on each swollen eye as she cleaned the scratch on his side and the wound in his thigh. She used lye soap and warm water, using a light touch. He winced, and she told him, "Aye, I know it hurts, but it must be cleansed."

            Ezekiel gave her a feeble nod.

            "Do you have willow bark tea ready?" Jacob asked from his position across the room.

            "I do," Katie replied. "If ye'll pour a cup for him and add some honey, I'll see if he can drink it."

            Because he was too weak to lift his head, Boone supported Zeke, raising his head and shoulders, then holding him in place. Ezekiel choked a little, but he managed to get most of it down, then shook his head, so Boone removed the cup and laid him back onto the bed with easy hands.

            Katie, with Mima's help, applied witch hazel to the numerous bruises. Then, the Irishwoman cut a potato into slices and placed them over Ezekiel's swollen eyes. Boone frowned, and she said, "'Twill get the swelling down a bit. Ye'll see."

            Last, she prepared an herbal concoction and painted both the scratch on his side and the deeper gash in his thigh with it. She added some sliced garlic to both, then wrapped some clean bandages around the wounds.

            Ezekiel's hands were puffy and lacerated, so she rubbed wool wax into them. Mima took over the task after watching Katie treat his right hand. Boone almost dozed with the chair tipped against the wall. Although the cabin door and the single window were open, it was over warm.

            He had almost drifted off when Rachel strolled through the door, a basket on her arm.

            "How is he?" she asked as she placed her burden on the table.

            "He's been beat half to death and stabbed in two places," Boone said with a weary sigh. "I think he'll do fine unless the worse wound gets infected, but if it should, you ladies know how to treat it."




Sunday Snippet - More From The Birthright of Ezekiel Wilson

 The Birthright of Ezekiel Wilson (World Castle Publishing) released this past Monday, March 24.  Scroll past the lovely cover for a new sni...