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DeWitt County, Texas (The Bloody Years)

by Willis Gathright

190 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #03-2298; ISBN 1-4120-1920-6; US$19.00, C$22.00, EUR15.50, £11.00

A novel of love, hate and vengeance set amid the bloodiest feud ever to rack Texas. Bill Taylor survives ambush, stampede, hurricane, gunfights and a trial for murder before finding a measure of peace in Indian Territory.

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About the book      About the author      Excerpt      Catalogue info

About the Book A novel of love, hate and vengeance set amid the bloodiest feud ever to rack Texas. Bill Taylor survives ambush, stampede, hurricane, gunfights and a trial for murder before finding a measure of peace in Indian Territory.

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About the Author Willis Gathright grew up in rural Victoria County which adjoins DeWitt County where most of this story takes place. "I found an old derringer with a half dozen notches filed into the brass handle while playing on a hillside with a cousin. I suppose wondering about its history aroused a curiosity about other events which may have taken place nearby and made me wonder if there was a connection between the gun and the feud." Willis earned a BA in Education and English at Corpus Christi University (now CC A&M) in 1953 and began teaching elementary school while working on his MA at Texas A&I at Kingsville (now A&M) receiving the degree in 1958. Thirty-one years as an elementary teacher and principal was followed by eleven years as an Adjunct Professor at the University of Houston at Victoria. Before college he served in the US Navy in the Pacific beginning in Australia and ending in Tokyo Bay when the Japanese signed the surrender ending World War II. Five assault landing in the Philippines, Borneo and Okinawa and three typhoons at sea came in between. Lacking one semester of getting his BA he was recalled for the Korean War and sent back to Hawaii, Japan, Taiwan and Hong Kong before being released to civilian life. Willis and wife Doris have three married children, ten grandchildren and one great grandchild.

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Excerpt

On March tenth, Sutton and Laura took the train from Cuero to Indianola to spend the night in the bustling port city by Matagorda Bay. Mrs. Eberly's restaurant on the first floor of her hotel served the best seafood in town, and the barroom was a popular gathering place for travelers and locals.

Sutton, Laura, and Gabe spent the night in the hotel and indulged in a sumptuous seafood feast fresh from the bay. The next morning was bright and clear, with just a tinge of winter lingering in the air. The chill soon disappeared in the bright sunlight. They left the hotel for the steamer an hour before noon on March 11, 1874.

True to his word, Jim came to Bill's ranch on the evening of March tenth. Bill let him in without either man speaking. Jim's eyes held a pitiful expression of fear, determination, and pleading as he tried to read Bill's decision in his face.

Bill had spent many sleepless nights agonizing over his decision. Maria brought Jim a plate of beans and steak, which he wolfed down. Bill knew his life would never be the same if he went with Jim. Jim knew how much he was asking, so he didn't pressure his friend—at least outwardly.

There was a long silence between them. Both were lost in thought. Bill remembered the sweet warmth of Callie's body against his, the taste of her lips, and the promise of a good woman who placed her trust and future in his hands.

Jim didn't intrude, guessing the battle Bill was fighting within himself. He respected Bill's feelings, and Bill appreciated that. Jim once killed a Yankee soldier who had Bill dead to rights, and he was also Bill's flesh and blood. Sutton and his friends murdered Jim's sisters' husbands, his father, and several others dear to both men. The thought of going to another Taylor funeral, possibly Jim's filled Bill with anger. He made up his mind and prayed Callie would forgive him.

"I'll go with you, Jim."

Tear of relief and gratitude came to Jim's eyes. He looked very relieved, but Bill felt a sudden weight settle onto his own shoulders.

They went to the corral and checked the horses they intended to ride, then checked their guns. Jim planned to take his two .45s, while Bill had just one. Two guns felt like too much weight.

"How's your draw, Jim?" he asked.

In response, Jim flipped out one of his guns, then the other.

"Whew, Boy. You've improved since we had contests when we were kids."

"Yeah. Wes has been working with me a little."

Bill saddled Blackie and a fresh horse for Jim, then they rode east, getting to Pat Smith's well before dawn. Pat left his burned-out home in Georgia after the war and came to Texas for a fresh start.

They slept for the three hours before daylight, and a lot of thoughts went through Bill's mind. He hoped they'd soon see the end of the feud. All the killing on both sides could be ended that day. If Bill and Jim died, Sutton could cancel his ticket, because no one would be left to stand against him. If Sutton died, though, Bill wondered if they'd be able to live in peace.

They'd be murderers, men outside the law, but had Sutton been within the law to commit murder just because he wore a badge? He was a killer, and justice would have to be done.

Bill slept soundly until Pat woke them late for a big breakfast of grits, steak, fried eggs, and a pot of black coffee. Bill shoved his empty plate back and spun the cylinder of his .45 as Jim finished his third cup of coffee.

"Time to go, Jim." He glanced at his cousin, who set down his cup and pulled out one of his guns, then dropped six bullets onto the table.

"This one's for you, Pa. The next is for you, Henry, then you, William...." He named his bullets for each one of his family who'd been murdered. "Let's get this done," he said grimly.

Near noon, they walked up San Antonio Street stride for stride toward the bay. Neither Jim nor Bill felt like talking, and they breathed deeply of the fresh sea air. The broken shells on the street crunched underfoot as they turned on Water Street and reached the wharf where the DeWitt Clinton rode low in the water. She was loaded with mustangs, longhorns, hide, and goods sent from inland to be shipped to New Orleans.

Their boots sounded heavily on the timbers as they dodged cow patties left by the livestock. Mullet leaped from the water as whitecaps caressed the shore. White clouds floated in a blue sky overhead. The shouts of the stevedores and the sounds of commerce floated to their ears from the town behind them, but those things made no impression on Bill. He and Jim had only one thing on their minds.

They walked up the gangplank, raised by the incoming tide, and onto the deck.

"Remember, Bill," Jim said, "Sutton's mine." His jaw was set, and his eyes dark pools of vengeance. He had much to avenge that day.

As if in answer to the men's prayers, Sutton, Laura and Gabe rounded the superstructure ahead of them.

"Here they come, Bill," Jim said. "Remember, he's mine."

Gabe glanced up and recognized the two Taylors. "Bill, it's Billy and Jim Taylor!"

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Catalogue Information

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