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    Because of a Dog: A Western Short Story
    Because of a Dog: A Western Short Story
    Because of a Dog: A Western Short Story
    Ebook81 pages1 hour

    Because of a Dog: A Western Short Story

    By Donald L Robertson

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Nolan Parker rides into Mustang City looking for grazing land of his own.

    With money in his pocket, he’s in town to buy a ranch, then a white mutt leaps into his life and demands protection.

    Nolan finds himself embroiled in the beginnings of a range war, battling the hired gunmen of a ruthless rancher. Now, he must make a decision. Stay and fight, or cut and run.

    Because of a Dog, is a drama of honor, love, death, and a big white dog—a stirring tale of the old west that will keep you engrossed to the very end.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDonald L Robertson
    Release dateApr 11, 2016
    ISBN9780990913955
    Because of a Dog: A Western Short Story
    Author

    Donald L Robertson

    Donald L. Robertson Donald L. Robertson is a writer of novels and short stories about the American West. His first novel, Logan's Word, is set in West Texas near Coleman, where he graduated from high school. Robertson strives to make his books as historically accurate as possible. He was born in Louisiana but, was raised by his parents in his mother's home state of Texas. Throughout his life, he has lived in many parts of Texas and has a love of that state. Professionally, he enjoyed the life of a pilot, flying throughout the West, living 10 years in Arizona, several years in New Mexico and traveled around exploring Colorado. His travels gave him the opportunity to learn about and fall in love with the country about which he would later write. As a boy, he spent many Saturdays at the all-day movies. He reveled in all of the western adventures, especially those of Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, and Lash LaRue. One of his favorite western actors continues to be John Wayne. As a youngster, he shared his passion of reading westerns, with one of his loving aunts who had a huge library of western novels. This is where he came to love Louis L'Amour and other western authors. Evidence of these influences appear throughout Robertson's novels, assuring that they are wholesome and adventurous, filled with action and good values which can be enjoyed by any member of the family. Today, he lives with his wife, Paula, and a six pound, Chihuahua, guard dog in Cotacachi, a little mountain village nestled between two dormant volcanoes in Ecuador.

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      Book preview

      Because of a Dog - Donald L Robertson

      BECAUSE OF A DOG

      Donald L. Robertson

      Copyright © 2016 Donald L. Robertson

      Published by CM Publishing at Smashwords

      Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

      Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, or events, is completely coincidental.

      Cover Design by Aeternum Designs

      Editing by Melissa Gray

      Formatting by CM Publishing

      ISBN: 978-0-9909139-5-5

      Acknowledgment

      I WANT TO thank my wife, Paula, for her support and her marketing skills. She makes my life so much easier.

      I am also thankful for a great editor, Melissa Gray, at melissagrayediting.com. Her efforts to improve my books amaze me.

      You can’t have a book without a good cover. For that, thank you Kat, at aeternumdesigns.com.

      Chapter 1

      NOLAN PARKER STEPPED out of the Mustang City Land Office into the cool, peaceful Colorado morning. He watched the young boy and his white mutt playing in the alley across the street. The two were wrestling for a stick the boy had been throwing. Nolan smiled, thinking about the fun times he’d had with his dog when he was a kid. The boy finally wrestled the stick free, leaned back, and hurled it as hard as he could. The stick arced high, and the dog raced into the street to catch it before it hit the ground.

      Three men on horseback rode down the middle of the street toward Nolan, the alley, and the dog. Gravity took over and dragged the stick down into the center of the dusty small-town street.  It bounced once, the dog right behind it, and collided with the leading horse’s left front fetlock. The horse reared, almost unseating its rider. The dog, still focused on catching the tumbling stick and taking it to his owner, dove at the feet of the horse.

      Nolan was enjoying the spectacle, right up to the point the man on the horse pulled his gun, cursing, and shot the dog.

      Whitey! the boy yelled, as he dashed out to protect his furry friend.

      Before Nolan even realized he was going to do it, he was racing toward the confusion in the middle of Mustang City’s main street. The dog was rolling on the ground, while the boy was trying to reach it, and the man on the horse was yelling, Get outta my way, boy. I’m gonna kill that mangy mutt.

      The other two riders, busy trying to control their jumpy mustangs, did not notice what Nolan was doing until he had reached the shooter’s right side. At that point, the man, who had been concentrating on the dog, turned to see Nolan almost on top of him. What the—

      Nolan slammed into the side of the horse, grabbed the gunman by his open sheepskin jacket, and threw him into the dirt street. The gunman hit the ground, rolled, and tried to bring his six-gun to bear on Nolan. Nolan took two steps, aimed the point of his right boot, and kicked with all the strength in his long legs. The boot slammed into the Colt, hitting the trigger guard and the gunman’s finger. The momentum of the kick twisted the gun up and to the right, momentarily locking the man’s finger inside the trigger guard. The man let out a yell as the six-gun almost took his finger off, then sailed out of his hand, leaving him with a finger pointing off at an acute angle.

      Get him, boys! the gunman yelled.

      Nolan wheeled around to face the other two horsemen, who had calmed their mounts down and were now spurring them toward him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a woman racing from one of the buildings and into the street toward the boy and his dog, whose white fur was turning red with blood. How many times have I told you to stop gettin’ involved with other people’s problems? Nolan unlimbered his .45 Colt Peacemaker. The two riders reined hard on their mounts, stopping within feet of Nolan, the boy, and the woman.

      The gunman on the ground was moaning and holding his hand, the broken finger pointing skyward.

      Nolan kept the cowboys covered with his six-gun. Ma’am, is this your son?

      Yes, he is. He was just playing with Whitey. He meant no harm.

      The few buildings in town had vomited their occupants at the sound of the single gunshot.

      Ma’am, is the dog still alive? Nolan said, not taking his eyes off the cowboys.

      Yes.

      Can you pick him up, and get him to the doc? This town does have a doctor, doesn’t it?

      Yes, on both counts. She turned to the boy, and said, Come on, Rocky, let’s get Whitey to Doc now.

      He’s bleeding awfully bad, Ma.

      She gave Rocky a sad smile and said, I know he is, but Doc Nelson is good. Maybe he can save him, if we’re quick about it. She scooped up the dog, blood staining her white blouse, and with Rocky in tow, ran toward a clapboard building with an outside stairway. She dashed up the stairs.

      Get up, Nolan said to the gunman.

      Between moans, the gunman said, You’re a dead man. You’ll never get out of this country alive.

      Nolan, still watching the cowboys, said, You speak awfully big for a man who goes around shooting defenseless dogs.

      Using his good hand to push off the ground, the injured man stood. Nolan motioned him over next to the two riders.

      Now, you boys can tell me your names, Nolan said.

      I’m Grady Sadler, the injured man said, as if Nolan should know him.

      How about you two?

      The first cowboy moved his chew of tobacco to his left cheek, spit, and said, Buster Pitts. Mister, you’ve got to know you’re in a heap of trouble.

      Nolan motioned to the second one.

      "Folks call me

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