"Black Thread And A Tombstone"
by David Dillinger
Copyright ©2002
ISBN: 0-87714-807-9 eBook edition
ISBN: 0-87714-292-0 PB edition
All rights reserved by Denlinger's Publishers, including the right to reproduce this electronic book, or portions thereof, in any form, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
THE AUTHOR
David Dillinger was born in the Oklahoma hills in 1953 and grew up on a small cattle ranch overlooking the beautiful Grand Lake of the Cherokees. The hunting and fishing were excellent and offered the young author plenty of sport in his early years. David learned an early love of history and to appreciate the active roll that his family had taken in forming this country.
Dillingers have served in the military since the time of the revolutionary war. David’s own great grandfather died in the Civil War during the siege of Vicksburg. As a young man the author heard many such stories of the family and learned early on to love history and the tales of the west.
David felt ready to see some of the world by the time he finished high school at Grove, Oklahoma and quickly enlisted into the United States Army and served in the 3rd Battalion, 5th Infantry of the 193rd Infantry Brigade in Central America. The author served a year and a half in the jungles within 10 degrees of the equator. David then went back stateside and served a year in Texas and the 2nd Armored Division.
David finished his three year hitch in the military and then proceeded to get a college education. The author went to several universities and picked up a degree in Journalism Education. David worked at teaching for a short while before branching out into other lines of work. He worked at all sorts of jobs and found that by working for the federal government that it afforded the best opportunity to pay the bills and allow his mind to put pen to paper. David’s work has been published in newspapers, magazines, anthologies as well as the Internet. David is the author of those exciting western novels, “The Rocky Mountain Exodus,” “Biscuits and Gunfire For Breakfast,” as well as this spellbinding story, “Black Thread and a Tombstone.”
David is also an active member of the Masonic Lodge. If you notice in his stories, he tries to put something about the true Masons in history in his writing. David is a Past Master of Greenwood Lodge #163 and is currently secretary of the same lodge. David is also a Past District Deputy Grand Master of the 22nd District of the Most Worshipful Grand Lodge of A.F. & A.M. of Kansas.
David lives alone on a small secluded farm in the backwoods and rolling hills of Kansas. The author still works for the federal government and is currently Postmaster of Fall River, Kansas. David enjoys hunting for deer, wild turkey and other game. It seems that even after getting close to that fifty year mark that the author still has a gun in one hand, a fishing pole in the other, and a typewriter at his side.
THE BOOK
Black Thread and a Tombstone is probably the closest thing to home alone in the wild, wild west. Little Willie Wright rules over and dominates bad guys from Jesse James and his brother Frank. Willie makes friends with the notorious Doc Holiday. The boy takes on whole gangs of bad guys while his rough and tough lawman father tries desperately to just survive as the boy and a crazy, mad mule drive dad up to the brink of insanity and alcoholism. Little Willie masters cards, guns, and those wild western women as the west is transformed into something that the reader could never imagine and is father is forever changed.
SAMPLE OF WORK
Willie hollered to the mules, “Whoa,” as he pulled the reins. The boy set the wagon brake and then jumped off the wagon with his dog as he heels.Willie and his dog Buckshot then hid themselves as Solomon cradled the shotgun in his lap.The deputy had only to wait for a moment to know that it was trouble approaching. The riders turned their horses and disappeared into the trees and brush along the river.
The deputy realized that he had not thought to bring his rifle and thus had endangered Willie and himself by not having a long range fighting abilities.Solomon kept a finger on the front trigger of the shotgun as he scanned the trees along the river.The moments ticked by and finally the deputy seen a sombrero in the trees at a distance of about fifty yards.Solomon raised the gun and blasted the area with pellets.Smoke filled the air as a shot came from the bushes and Solomon felt a bullet pass through the brim of his battered hat.The deputy let loose with another blast of the shotgun towards the trees.Solomon was reaching for his pistol when he heard from behind him, “Alto!”
Solomon looked slowly around behind him and there stood Skinny Chico, one of the Sanchez brothers from Finney County.Chico held an ancient flint lock rifle aimed at the deputy’s head.Skinny Chico grinned and yelled, “Alfredo, I have him!”
Fat Alfredo Sanchez stepped out of the bushes and pulled on a sombrero that was speckled with holes. Fat Al smiled as he aimed an old Spanish smooth bore musket at the deputy and said, “Senior Wright, we hear you hunt for us.We hear you call us thieves.”
Solomon did not move as he said, “Yea, I’ve been looking for you and yes, you are a couple of thieves, cattle rustlers, horse thieves, and chicken thieves.”
Fat Al walked up to the wagon and pulled the pistol out of the deputy’s holster.The fat Mexican was smiling as he said, “We hear your brother is dead.You have, how say got your brother’s things?’
“Inherited, the word is inherited,” said Solomon.
Chico smiled a giant toothy smile under his scraggly moustache as he said, “Si, that is the word we hear…inherited.You inherited mucho oro, gold and silver from your dead brother.”
Solomon frowned and said, “You ignorant asses.My brother died in New Orleans.We are headed now to New Orleans.How would I have gold from my brother’s estate if I ain’t even gotten to New Orleans yet?”
Skinny Chico swore in Spanish and then turned to his brother Alfredo as he said, “I told you this is no good to rob a policia.Now we have to kill him and we no get no gold!”
Fat Al shook his head at his skinny brother as he said, “The policia can no go all the way to New Orleans without some money.Si, Senior Wright? You got some money, si?”Fat Al pointed his musket menacingly at the deputy.
“Yes, I’ve got some money,” said Solomon.
“See Chico,” said Fat Al to his brother.“Give us the money now.”
Solomon nodded his head, stood slowly and reached into his pants pocket and retrieved a handful of gold and silver coins. Solomon jingled the coins in his hand and then tossed them in among the hooves of the lead mules.
Fat Alfredo yelled at the deputy, “You stupid policia. I ought to torture you until you cry for mercy before I kill you.”
“Go ahead,” said Solomon.“If you think you’ve got the cahonies for the job.”
Fat Al shook his head and said, “No, I am a peaceful man. I will let you go alive and not be tortured.It is the least I can do since you are suffering from the loss of your brother.I know it would make me very sad to lose my own brother.Chico, go get the oro and plauta.”
Skinny Chico nodded and walked up to the dark mules and got down upon his hands and knees as he began picking up all of the scattered coins.It was at that time when the mule named General Sherman put a hoof down upon Chico’s hand.The Mexican began howling at the top of his lungs in pain as the mule pinned the man solidly to the ground.
Fat Al yelled, “Que,” and looked to his screaming brother. Solomon sprang down upon the heavyset Sanchez brother.The deputy and robber rolled in the dirt with the lawman finally ending up on top of the Mexican.Solomon pummeled the Mexican’s face with his fist while General Sherman smased the other Mexican’s hand into the ground.
Solomon could see that Fat Al was semiconscious so he stopped beating the man’s face with his fists.Solomon disarmed the fat man and hog tied him with some rope while General Sherman continued to hold down the screaming Chico.
Solomon cocked his pistol and aimed it at Chico as he got in front of General Sherman and shoved on the mule to make him move.It took sever good pushes on the mule before the Mexican could yank out his crushed hand.Chico backed away from the mule as he held his injured hand in his good hand.“The devil, that mule is el Diablo,” said the hurting Mexican.
“Si,” agreed Solomon, “now get over by your brother.” Solomon then tied Chico up with some rope as Willie and Buckshot came out of the brush.Solomon said to the boy, “You did good.Now move the wagon up and gather up all of our money.”
“Yes sir, Pa,” said the lad.“Pa, you had old General Sherman figured out, didn’t ya, Pa?”
“Yea, I had the general figured out.”Solomon turned to the two men lying on the ground with their hands and feet tightly bound.“All right Al…Chico, what am I going to do with you two? I could send you to prison, probably for at least ten years. Al, you’ll lose that gut busting rocks in prison.”Solomon tapped the fat man’s belly with the barrel of the Mexican’s muzzleloader. “Chico, the trouble is you ain’t got no gut to lose.You’d probably waste away to nothing.”
Chico whined, “Senior Wright, I have a wife and mucho little bambinos.Tiny little babies who would starve if I no bring home some food.”
Solomon nodded his head and then said, “What about you, Al? Have you got a senora and little bambinos?”
“Si,” said the fat man.“Mucho babies.They need their poppa badly.”
Solomon frowned and said, “We wouldn’t want no bambinos to starve but I can’t just let you two go.You just can’t go around robbing and stealing all the time.You was going to let me go which says something for your defense, otherwise you’d already be dead.Understand or comprende?”
“Si, we understand,” said the two Mexicans.
Fat Al sat slowly up and said, “We could go…straight, Senior Wright but we are stupid hombres.We have no skills.We can no read or write.We can no work for we were never taught how to do anything but drinking, robbing, shooting, riding horses and chasing the women.”
Solomon asked, “Ain’t there ever been a time when you made an honest living?”
“Si,” said Chico.“We reaised fighting cocks and made mucho money but Alfredo, he eat all our chickens!”
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