DANCER
AN EYE FOR AN EYE
by
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“I am not armed, lad,” Breathed McGuire, slowly raising his hands away from his body. “Would ye shoot an unarmed man, sir?” “I weren’t born yesterday, McGuire,…and keep your hands right there!” He nodded his head at the block of wood on the far wall. “I’ve been admiring your handiwork.” He grinned. “You’re damn good with a frog-sticker!...Where was you when you threw that thing?” McGuire nodded his head at the far wall. “The settee.” “God damn!” Gasped Seth. “That’s got a be thirty feet across there!” He grinned wider then. “But I know you’re a knife man, you took my boy’s life with it!...And now, I’m gonna take yours th’ same way you son of a Bitch!...You butchered my son,…you looked him right in his young, scared eyes and stabbed him to death!...And now, you red-headed Bastard, you have two choices. Shake that derringer out a your sleeve and shoot me, or use that knife you’re so fuckin’ proud of!...Either way, you’re a dead man cause I’m gonna cut your stinkin’ heart out!” “Why,…why did you take my books?” Queried McGuire as he ever so slowly continued raising his hands toward the hidden blade concealed at his neck. “Me books were of no use to you.” “Marshal wanted ‘em!...Now, Mister Puke, I ain’t never took this much time to kill a man before, but I’m lettin’ you take all th’ time you need to reach for that hideout knife,…why?...Because I want you to know it’s comin’,…and I want you to know you can’t stop it so come on Mister Crime Boss, I’m doin’ a hell of a lot more for you, than you done for my son,…I’m lettin’ you defend yourself!...But I won’t wait forever!” He continued to watch McGuire and his anger continued to build. He slowly worked the stiletto around in his hand, so that the long blade was against his forearm’s inner side, with the hilt upside down in his hand, his forefinger beneath the hilt for leverage. He waited then as the seconds ticked away, all the while watching McGuire’s right hand move closer to his head, when suddenly he reacheded for the blade. McGuire snaked the dagger from its sheath in a fraction of a second, and as he was arcing his arm downward to throw, Seth slung Silva’s stiletto underhanded, and the long throwing-knife embeded itself to the hilt in the Crime Boss’s right shoulder. McGuire yelled in surprised pain, releasing his knife to flop uselessly across the room as he quickly clutched at the one in his shoulder.
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About the Book
Seth Joe-Bob Dancer, gunfighter, road agent, and killer was now a rancher, devoted husband, and father of two sons, one nineteen, the other now seventeen; and they were his life! Having left who he once was far behind him, his new role in life was one of happiness and most times uneventful, that is until his eldest son was murdered in Dallas, Texas, and his youngest blamed for the crime! Dancer had changed his name before the Civil War on the day he married Laura and, together, raised two strapping sons. He had not worn his gun since war’s end, had in fact not thought of his violent past, until now! He had not fired the sidearm in almost eighteen years, but now, his son was dead! He didn’t know what to expect when he went to Dallas; he only knew he had to see about it! He did, however, know that his youngest son was innocent, and the only way to save him was to find the real killer. But how? Dallas was a town almost completely under the thumb of organized crime, and the law was either helpless to combat it or was on the syndicate’s payroll or had been blackmailed into submission. After reconstruction, the federal government’s policy was not to interfere with local politics unless asked or shown proof of reasons why they should, but the people of Dallas were too afraid to ask for that help, and the syndicate bosses had possession of the proof! Seth Mabry remembered only one thing from his mother’s Bible teachings, and that one thing became his religion. He believed in an eye for an eye, and if he was wronged, he would collect!
About the Author
As a child in the country in the 1940s, about all my spare time was spent drawing pictures, and there was plenty of spare time! I continued my efforts all through school and, as a self-taught artist, did very well at illustrating for magazines, etc. But I always wanted to write Western books, not the ones where the hero is the bravest man in town, but like the Old West really had to be; no piece of cake! My books represent actual events of the past, towns that were there, some people. I have wrapped my characters and stories around those events, making them historically correct fiction novels. My character is a family man living down his past until those events forced him to take action. I hope you like Dancer, the story takes place in Dallas, Texas, 1876.