Wild West Podcast

Chapter 2: Peril and Pursuit in the Untamed West: Buck Laramie's Fateful Encounter and a Harrowing Flight from a Wrongful Accusation

April 26, 2020 Michael King
Wild West Podcast
Chapter 2: Peril and Pursuit in the Untamed West: Buck Laramie's Fateful Encounter and a Harrowing Flight from a Wrongful Accusation
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Are you prepared to embark on a tumultuous journey through the untamed wild west? This episode unravels the heart-stopping, adrenaline-pumping antics of Buck Laramie, the quintessential cowboy, as he navigates the perilous landscapes of Western Aces' timeless tale, "Owl Hoot Ghost." Listen closely as we delve deep into Buck's arrival in the town of San Leon, where he encounters a gang of bandits, shockingly led by a man bearing an uncanny resemblance to his late brother. Buck's life takes an unexpected turn as he allies himself with the young and dedicated Sheriff, Bob Anders, whose familial ties link back to his brother's dark past. Expect a torrent of emotions as we dissect the layers of familial loyalty, redemption, and the fight for justice.

Fasten your seatbelts as the wild west chaos escalates in the following chapter. Buck Laramie finds himself embroiled in a desperate rescue mission to save a kidnapped girl, leading to a high-stakes face-off with the outlaws. But the stakes get higher as Sheriff Anders is shot, and in a twist of fate, Buck is wrongfully accused of the crime. As the town descends into chaos, Buck is forced to go on the run while trying to prove his innocence, leading us into the thrilling third part of the story. With a posse hot on his trail, Buck must outwit his pursuers and seek help from old alliances. Hold your breath as we leave you hanging on the edge with a cliffhanger, setting the stage for the next electrifying chapter, "Trigger Debt." Stay tuned for more gripping Western adventures in our next installment!To download this chapter go to The Legends of Dodge City Website 


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Speaker 1:

This story was originally published in the October 1935 issue of Western Aces Starting life as an unsold submission written by a pulp author, chandler Whipple. Popular writer Robert E Howard offered to rework and improve the tale, later published in book form and in other places as the Last Ride. Wild West's podcast presents the original transcript as it was first published. The story is in the public domain. Chapter 2 Owl Hoot Ghost.

Speaker 1:

As Buck Laramie galloped into San Leon, a sight met his eyes which jerked him back to a day six years gone. For tearing down the street came six wild riders yelling and shooting In the lead Road. One who, with his huge frame and careless ease, might have been Big Jim Laramie come back to life again. Behind them the crowd at the Red Load, roused to befuddled. Life, was shooting just as wildly and ineffectively as on that other day when hot lead raked San Leon, there was but one man to bar the bandits path, one man who stood, legs braced, wide, guns drawn, in the roadway before the last house in San Leon. So old Pop Anders had stood that other day and there was something about this man to remind Laramie of the old sheriff, though he was much younger. In a flash of recognition, laramie knew him Bob Anders, son of Luke's victim. He too wore a silver star.

Speaker 1:

This time, laramie did not stand helplessly by to see if Sheriff slaughtered. With a swiftness born of six hard years below the border, he made his decision and acted. Gravel, spurred as the sorrel, threw back his head against the sawing bit and came to a sliding stop and all in one motion Laramie was out of the saddle and on his feet beside the sheriff, half crouching, and his six gun cocked and pointed. This time too would meet the charge. Not one Only saw that masks hid the faces of the riders as they swept down and contempt stabbed through him. No, laramie ever wore a mask. His colt vibrated as he thumbed the hammer Beside him. The young sheriff's guns were spitting smoke and lead.

Speaker 1:

The clumped group split apart at that blast. One man who wore a Mexican sash instead of a belt, slumped in his saddle clawing for the horn. Another, with his right arm flopping, broken at his side, was fighting his pain-maddened beast which had stopped a slug intended for its rider. The big man who had led the charge grabbed the fellow with a sash as he started to slide limply from his saddle and dragged him across his own bow. He bolted across the roadside and plunged into a dry wash. The others followed him. The man with the broken arm abandoned his own crazed mount and grabbed the reins of the riderless horse. Beasts and men, slid over the rim and out of sight in a cloud of dust.

Speaker 1:

Anders yelled and started across the road on the run, but Laramie jerked him back. They're covered, he grunted, sending his sorrel galloping to a safe place with a slap on the rump. We've got to get out of sight pronto. The sheriff's good judgment overcame his excitement then, and he wheeled and darted for the house yelping, follow me. Stranger Bullets whined after them from the gulch as the outlaws began their stand.

Speaker 1:

The door opened inward before Anders' outstretched hand touched it and he plunged through without checking. His stride Led smacked, the jams and splinters flew. As Laramie ducked after Anders, he collided with something soft and yielding that gasped and tumbled to the floor under the impact. Glurring wildly down, laramie found himself face to face with a vision of feminine loveliness that took his breath away even in that instant. With a horrified gasp, he plunged to his feet and lifted the girl after him. His all-embracing gaze took her in. From tousled blonde hair to whip-cord breeches and high-heeled riding boots. She seemed to be wildered to speak. Sorry, miss". He stuttered. I was. The smash of a window pane and the whine of a bullet cut short his floundering apologies. He snatched the girl out of the line of the window and in an instant was crouching beside it himself, throwing lead across the road toward the smoke wisps.

Speaker 1:

Anders had barred the door and grabbed a winchester from a rack on the wall. Duck into a back room, judy", he ordered, kneeling at the window on the other side of the door. "'partner, I don't know ya'. He punctuated his remarks with rapid shots. But I'm plenty grateful" Hilton's the name, mumbled Laramie, squinting along his six-gun barrel. "'friends call me Buck Damn'.

Speaker 1:

His bullet had harmlessly knocked dust on the gulch rim and his pistol was empty. As he groped for cartridges he felt a winchester pushed into his hand and startled, turned his head to stare full into the disturbingly beautiful face of Judy Anders. She had not obeyed her brother's order but had taken a loaded rifle from the rack and brought it to Laramie, crossing the room on hands and knees to keep below the line of fire. Laramie almost forgot the man across the road as he stared into her deep, clear eyes, now glowing with excitement. In dizzy fascination he admired the peach bloom of her cheeks, her red parted lips.

Speaker 1:

"'thank you, miss' he stammered. "'i needed that smoke wagon. Right, smart, and excuse my language, I didn't know. You was still in the room'. He ducked convulsively as a bullet ripped across the sill, throwing splinters like a buzzsaw Shove the winchester out of the window. He set to work, but his mind was still addled and he was remembering a pitifully still figure sprawled in the dust of that very road and a pigtailed child on her knees beside it. The child was no longer a child but a beautiful woman, and he—he was still a Laramie and the brother of the man who killed her father.

Speaker 1:

"'judy', there was passion in Bob Hander's voice. "'will you get out of here'? "'there, somebody's calling at the back door Go, let him in and stay back there, will ya'. This time she obeyed, and a few seconds later, half a dozen pairs of boots clomped into the room as some men from the red load, who had slipped around through a back route to the besieged cabin, entered. "'they was after the bank, of course', announced one of them. "'they didn't get nothing, though. Dernham Eli Harrison started slinging lead the minute he seen them mass coming in the door. He didn't hit nobody and by good luck the lead they throwed at him didn't connect. But they pulled out in a hurry.

Speaker 1:

"'harrison sure surprised me. I never thought much of him before now, but he showed he was ready to fight for his money and iron'. "'same outfit, of course', grunted the sheriff, peering warily through the jagged shards of the splintered window pane. "'sure, the damn Laramies. Again big Jim Leiden, as usual'. Buck Laramie jumped convulsively. Doubting the evidence of his ears. He twisted his head to stare at the men.

Speaker 1:

"'you think it's the Laramies out there' Buck's brain felt a bit numb. These mental jolts were coming too fast for him. "'sure', grunted Anders, "'couldn't be nobody else. They was gone for six years where nobody knowed. But a few weeks back they showed up again and started their old devil tree. Worse than ever.

Speaker 1:

"'killed this old man right out there in front of the house', grunted one of the men selecting a rifle from the rack. The others were firing carefully through the windows and the men in the gulch were replying in kind. The room was full of drifting smoke. "'but I've heard of them' Laramie protested. "'they was all killed down in old Mexico'. "'couldn't be', declared the sheriff, lining his sights. "'these are the old gang. All right, they've put up warnings signed with the Laramie name "'Heaven been heard singing the old song they used to always sing about King Brady? "'got a hideout up in the Los Diablos too, just like they did before Same one, of course. "'i ain't managed to find it yet, but his voice was drowned out in the roar of his 4570.'".

Speaker 1:

I'll be a hammerheaded jackass", muttered Laramie under his breath. Of all the—his profane meditations were broken into suddenly as one of the men bawled Shootin' slow down over there. What do you reckon it means? Means they're aiming to sneak out of that wash at the other end and hightail it into the desert, snapped Anders. I oughta have thought about that before, but things have been happening so fast. You, ombre, stay here and keep smokin' the wash so they can't bolt out on this side. I'm gonna circle around and block him from the desert. I'm with you, growled Laramie. I'll wanna see what's behind them masks.

Speaker 1:

They ducked out the back way and began to cut a wide circle which should bring them to the outer edge of the wash. It was difficult going and frequently they had to crawl on their hands and knees to take advantage of every clump of cactus in Greasewood. Gettin' pretty close, muttered Laramie, lifting his head. What I'm wondering is why ain't they already bolted for the desert? Nothing to stop them? I figure they wanted to get me, if they could, before they lit out, answered Anders. I believe I've been snooping around in the Diablo's too close to suit him. Look out, they seen us.

Speaker 1:

Both men ducked as a steady line of flame spurts rimmed the edge of the wash. They flattened down behind their scanty cover and bullets cut up puffs of sand within inches of them. This is a pickle, gritted Anders, vainly trying to locate a human head to shoot at. If we back up, we back into sight, and if we go forward, we'll get perforated. And if we stay here, the results the same.

Speaker 1:

Returned Laramie, greasewood, don't stop, lead, we've got to summon reinforcements. And lifting his voice in a senatorian yell that carried far, he whooped Come on, boys, rush him from that side. They can't shoot two ways at once. They cannot see the cabin from where they lay, but a burst of shouts and shots told him his yell had been heard. Humans began to bang up the wash and Laramie and Anders recklessly leaped to their feet and rushed down the slight slope that led to the edge of the gulch, shooting as they went. They might have been riddled before they had gone a dozen steps, but the outlaws had recognized the truth of Laramie's statement. They couldn't shoot two ways at once and they feared to be trapped in the gulch with attackers on each side.

Speaker 1:

A few hurried shots buzzed about the ears of the charging men and then outlaws burst into view at the end of the wash, farthest from town, mounted and spurring hard the big leader still carrying a limp figure across his saddle, cursing fervently. The sheriff ran after them, blazing away with both six shooters, and Laramie followed him. The fleeing men were shooting backward as they rode and the roar of their six guns and winchesters was deafening. One of the men, reeled in his saddle and, caught at the shoulder, died suddenly red. Laramie's longer legs carried him past the sheriff, but he did not run far. As the outlaws pulled out of range toward the desert in the Diablos, he slowed to a walk and began reloading his gun. Let's round up the men, bob, he called. We'll follow him. I know the waterholes. He stopped short with a gasp. Ten yards behind him, bob anders, a crimson stream dying. The side of his head was sinking to the desert floor. Laramie started back on a run.

Speaker 1:

Just as the men from the cabin burst into view and their lead rode a man on a pinto, and Buck Laramie knew that pinto, get him. Held, the white-headed rider. He shot Bob anders in the back. I've seen him. He's a Laramie. Laramie stopped dead in his tracks. The accusation was like a bombshell exploding in his face. That was the man who had tried to drag Alchem in hours. So before, same pinto, same white sombrero. But he was a total stranger to Laramie. How in the devil did he know of Buck's identity? What was the reason for his enmity? Laramie had no time to figure it out.

Speaker 1:

Now For the excited townsmen, too crazy with excitement to stop and think, seeing only their young sheriff stretched in his blood and hearing the frantic accusation of one of their fellows, set up a roar and started blazing away at the man they believed was a murderer Out of the frying pan into the fire. The naked desert was behind him and his horse was still standing behind the Anders cabin, with the mob between him and that cabin. But any attempt at explanation would be fatal. Nobody would listen. Laramie saw a break for him and the fact that only his accuser was mounted and probably didn't know he had a horse behind the cabin and would try to reach it. The others were too excited to think anything. They were simply slinging lead, so befuddled with the mob impulse that they were not even aiming, which is all that saved Laramie.

Speaker 1:

In the few seconds in which he stood, bewildered and uncertain, he ducked for the dry wash, running almost at a right angle with his attackers. The only man capable of intercepting him was White Hat, who was bearing down on him, shooting from the saddle with a Winchester. Laramie wheeled, and as he wheeled, a bullet ripped through his stetson and stirred his hair and passing. White Hat was determined to have his life, he thought. As his own six-gun spat flame, white Hat flinched sideways and dropped his rifle. Laramie took the last few yards in his stride and dived out of sight in the wash. He saw White Hat spurring out of range too energetically to be badly wounded and he believed his bullet had merely knocked the gun out of the fellow's hands.

Speaker 1:

The others had spread out and were coming down the slope at a run, burning powder as they came. Laramie did not want to kill any of those men. They were law-abiding citizens acting under a misapprehension. So he emptied his gun over their heads and was gratified to see them precipitately take to cover. Then, without pausing to reload, he ducked low and ran for the opposite end of the wash, which ran out on an angle that would bring him near the cabin. The men who had halted their charge broke cover and came on again, unaware of his flight and hoping to get him while his gun was empty. They supposed he intended making a stand at their end of the wash.

Speaker 1:

By the time they had discovered their mistake and were pumping lead down the gully, laramie was out at the other end and racing across the road toward the cabin. He ducked around the corner with lead nipping at his ears and vaulted into the saddle of the sorrel and cursed his look as Judy Anders ran out the rear door, her eyes wide with fright. What's happened? She cried Where's Bob? No time to pow. Wow, panted Laramie. Bob's been hurt. Don't know how bad. I got a ride because he was interrupted by shouts from the other side of the cabin Look out, judy. One man yelled Stay under cover. He shot Bob in the back. Reacting to the shout, without conscious thought Judy sprang to seize his reign. Laramie jerked the sorrel aside and evaded her grasp. It's a lie. He yelled with heat. I ain't got time to explain. Hope Bob ain't hurt bad. Then he was away crouching low in his saddle with bullets pinging past him. It seemed he'd been hearing lead whistle all day. He was getting sick of that particular noise. He looked back once. Behind the cabin, judy Anders was bending over a limp form that the men had carried in from the desert. Now she was down on her knees in the dust beside that limp body, searching for a spark of life. Laramie cursed sickly. History was indeed repeating itself that day in San Leon For a time. Laramie rode eastward, skirting the desert and, glad of a breathing spell, the sorrel had profited by his rest behind the Anders cabin and was fairly fresh.

Speaker 1:

Laramie had a good lead on the pursuers. He knew would be hot on his trail as soon as they could get to their horses. But he headed east instead of north, the direction in which lay his real goal, the Box W Ranch. He did not expect to be able to throw them off his scent entirely, but he did hope to confuse them and gain a little time. It was imperative that he see his one friend in San Leon County, joel Walters. Maybe Joel Walters could unriddle some of the tangle. Who were the men masquerading as Laramies? He had been forging eastward for perhaps an hour when, looking backward from a steep rise, he saw a column of riders approaching some two miles away through a cloud of dust. That meant haste. They would be the posse following his trail and that meant the sheriff was dead or still senseless. Laramie wheeled down the slope on the other side and headed north, hunting hard ground that would not betray a pony's hoof print.

Speaker 2:

My name is Mike King. I am the producer of Wild West Podcast, brad Smalley, and I would like to thank you for tuning in to another chapter of Boot Hill Pay Off. We hope you enjoyed this show and we would like to invite you to join us for Chapter 3, trigger Debt. In Chapter 3, buck Laramie kicks up the dust and rides hard out of San Leon to a lewd, fast approaching posse. While, under the cover of darkness, buck approaches the water's ranch to meet his old friend and get protection from his pursuers. There, at the Old man Water's Place, buck tells the story of each of his brother's demies, while waters unveils the motives of the newly formed Laramie Gang.

Outlaws and a Fateful Encounter
Desperate Escape From an Accusation
Buck Laramie Evades Pursuers