Billy Old, Arizona Ranger
A Historical Novel Based on a True Story
by Geff Moyer
-Historical, Thriller, Western
Amazon | Goodreads
In this historical novel, Billy Old and Jeff Kidder were Arizona Rangers at the turn of the twentieth century and best friends. In 1908, while acting in the line of duty, Kidder was murdered by five crooked Mexican policemen. No charges were filed against his killers. They were quietly skirted away to various locations throughout the county of Sonora, Mexico, a vast, desolate area covering nearly twenty thousand square miles. In 1909, shady politics in the Territory of Arizona brought about the disbanding of the Rangers, leaving many to drift into obscurity and some into degradation. In that same year Billy Old vanished into Sonora to find and kill the men responsible for his friend’s death. He returned close to two years later with that deed accomplished. During Billy’s search of hundreds of sleazy Sonora whorehouses and cantinas he experiences many exciting, humorous, and tragic encounters. There’s a bloody and deadly confrontation with four scalp hunters; a mystical meeting with an old, dying Hopi Indian; an attack by the legendary “Red Ghost” of the southwest; a sorrowful meeting with a past fellow Ranger; cannibal Indians from East Texas; renegade Apaches; flushing toilets; the wonders of ether; Dancing Devils—fifty-foot high swirling dust funnels that can blind an animal; and a whore named Abbie Crutchfield who proves vital to Billy’s quest. And then there’s his horse Orion and a mule named Captain, all a part of a critically changing time in the American Southwest. Includes Historical Background and Readers Guide.
Excerpt:
Date unknown
The fat, jolly policeman was happily stirring the boiling contents of a large iron cauldron suspended over a roaring fire. The tantalizing aroma of the pork and hominy pozole made Billy's mouth water. The policeman grinned then handed him an empty bowl, inviting him to enjoy the tasty treat. Like a hungry orphan Billy grabbed the bowl and hovered over the contents of the cauldron awaiting his helping of the stew. The fat man laughed as he churned and mixed the pozole.
Then Billy saw the arm.
A man's forearm with a tattoo of Old Glory was floating and bobbing in the steaming mixture. Repulsed, he stepped back and turned to the policeman whose face had now formed into that of Tomas Amador. Then it melted into the face of Delores Quias, then Moises Alverez, then Diaz Pasco. Just as it was about to take the shape of the mysterious Victoriano, Billy kissed the ground hard. Flat on his back with the wind knocked from his lungs, stunned and groggy, he realized he had been sleeping in the saddle again. Before he dared to move he ran a quick check for broken bones. The sound of an angry rattlesnake shocked the remainder of his senses back into focus. The wind returned to his lungs. Then a second rattle sounded, followed by a third. Orion had walked right into the middle of a rattlesnake orgy. The horse had managed to buck and leap free of the snakes, but the move had thrown his sleeping rider from the saddle. Billy was spread eagle in the middle of their lusty ritual. He froze everything but his eyes. He peeked left and right, spotting a rattler on each side and just a few feet from his face. Both were coiled, ready to do away with this unwelcomed intruder in their bedroom. The third one was coiled somewhere out of his line of sight. If he rolled either direction they'd strike. If he reached for his weapon they'd strike. If he tried to get up they'd strike. Even if he remained motionless he knew they would soon strike anyway, just for the hell of it. Rattlers are like that.
Captain whinnied and hee-hawed then stepped right into the middle of the standoff. As the snake to Billy's left reared back to strike, the mule slammed his heavy hoof down on its head, mashing it into a slimy patty of dirt, blood, and venom. Then the snake on Billy's right struck, but not at Billy. It flew into the air straight at Captain in an attempt to defend his or her mate. Billy watched the serpent's riveted underbelly sail a good two feet over his face like it was flying. Captain took a quick step backwards, raised his head, and slammed his teeth down on the soaring serpent snatching it out of mid air. Dangling over Billy's head the snake twisted and hissed but couldn't free itself from Captain's crushing jaws. The mule shook his head, violently snapping the snake up and down and side-to-side. Then he whipped his head to the left and released his jaws. The smashed and broken rattler flew into the brush. The third snake seem to come out of nowhere. It struck the lower part of Captain's front leg. By that time Billy was up and drawing his Smith & Wesson. He fired and the remaining rattler's head exploded.
Captain was limping in fast circles favoring his bitten leg. It took great effort for Billy to finally get the animal to the ground and lying on its side. He pulled some pipe tobacco from his bag, doused it with water, and squeezed and kneaded until it became a gooey poultice - a remedy he had learned from Feather Yank. He pressed it onto the snake bite. Captain groaned and grunted a soft hee-haw as Billy wrapped a cloth around the bite securing the mixture to the mule's leg.
"Be still now, Cap'n! This'll draw out some of the poison," he said softly as he stroked the animal's neck and tried to keep him calm. He knew if Captain decided to get up there was no way in hell he could stop the strong beast from doing so, so he made camp right there in the rattler's vacated bedroom. He dined on the snake Captain had smashed and the one he had shot. Every few hours he would change the poultice eventually using up an entire canteen of their safe water. Orion stood and watched and snorted concern over the state of his friend.
Fortunately the mule didn't try to stand. He slept most of the time, which kept the poison from surging through his veins. Soon it would lose its killing powers. The morning of the third day Captain and up and hee-hawing again. That was also when Billy discovered the crushed canteen. The mule had been laying on it. They were now down to just three canteens of safe water.
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* courtesy of author
