Mansfield, Texas - Spring, 1889
Woodie Soper flipped two strips of bacon in one frying pan and then poured batter into another frying pan for pancakes. He heard a knock on his front door and sighed, hoping whoever was there would think he wasn’t home and go away. When the knock happened again a few seconds later, he set his spatula aside and hurried to open the door. A young boy who looked about eight years old stood on the porch, a slip of paper in his hands.
“Sheriff Griffith wanted me to give you this.” The boy thrust out a dirty hand with the paper clutched in it.
Woodie accepted the paper. “Can you wait for a minute while I read this?”
The boy nodded. “I reckon so, Mister.”
Woodie opened the paper and smoothed out the wrinkles.
Please come by the office at your earliest convenience. I have another job that you might be interested in.
Woodie found a blunt pencil, scribbled a reply, and then found a penny.
“Run this back to the sheriff,” he instructed the boy, who took the note, shoved it into his pocket, and grinned when Woodie handed him the penny.
The boy’s face lit up. “Thanks, Mister!”
Clutching the penny in a grubby hand, he turned and ran down the lane toward Main Street, where the sheriff’s office was.
Woodie smiled as he shut the door and went back to fixing his breakfast. He wasn’t sure he wanted another job for at least a week or two, and he needed to figure out what he was going to tell the sheriff. By rote, he placed the bacon and pancakes on a plate where two fried eggs already sat. He sat down at his table and began to eat.
He had just returned the night before from a job, and he wondered how the sheriff had known he had returned since he hadn’t yet reported back.
He sighed as he took a bite of pancakes and then tasted the bacon. He was getting mighty tired of eating his own cooking, especially cold eggs. After taking another bite, he pushed his plate away. He did plan on talking with Sheriff Griffith that morning. The sheriff would be pleased that he had successfully found the outlaw many other lawmen had been looking for, having delivered him to the nearest town where he’d discovered him.
But Woodie was beginning to feel that something was missing in his life, and he was no longer sure he wanted to be a bounty hunter for the unforeseeable future. He wanted to take some time to think about where he wanted his future to go. He also wanted to visit his two brothers since it had been a few months since he’d seen them.
He had started this work about five years ago, after spending a few years as Sheriff Griffith’s deputy. When offered his first bounty hunter job, he quickly found the outlaw. Many lawmen and Texas Rangers had been looking for the villain for months, although it had taken Woodie only a few weeks.
From there, his new career had taken off. Up until a few months ago, he had loved his job. He liked the excitement and challenge being a bounty hunter provided. He got to see quite a bit of the country as he traveled from city to town, state to territory. And he was paid well whenever he found another outlaw. He had also met many interesting people, which he enjoyed.
He might as well go talk to Sheriff Griffith after he finished eating. He would tell him that he would take a few months off and take a break from finding bad men and putting them behind bars.
Most of them ended up hanged within a few months or were sentenced to spend the rest of their lives in jail for the crimes and murders they committed. The people they victimized had their lives ruined in multiple ways because of these outlaws, and most would never recover from the crimes committed against them.
After finishing breakfast, he slid a gun into the holster at his hip and another tied to his right thigh. Setting a hat on his head, he left his house and walked down the street in his usual long strides. He strode quickly, and most people moved out of his way. Some greeted him with a nod or a few words. This town he had settled in, Mansfield, was a small western town in North Texas.
He liked the area and the people. Very little happened here, and he liked it that way, especially after spending weeks going after criminals. Most people knew and respected him, and those who didn’t avoided him. He stepped into the sheriff’s office and saw his good friend behind his desk.
“Hey, I’m glad you came so quickly.” Sheriff Griffith stood to shake Woodie’s hand and then waved a hand toward an empty chair. “You did good getting the man you went after.”
“It wasn’t all that hard to find Jerry. He left quite a few clues as he moved from town to town,” Woodie said with a shrug, not sure he deserved or wanted the praise. Jerry was an outlaw who spent most of his time attacking stagecoaches, robbing the passengers, and shooting anyone in his way. Jerry was off the streets but had killed two men and a woman because Woodie hadn’t found him fast enough.
“Well, you saved a lot of people’s lives.” Sheriff Griffith leaned forward in his chair, his hands clasped in front of him and in desperate need of a haircut.
Woodie gave a mental shake of his head. He was so used to taking in details about everyone in his surroundings, and even now when he wasn’t working a job, he noticed things about Sheriff Griffith that didn’t matter.
“I have another job for you, but this one is a bit … unusual if you want it.”
“Unusual how?” Woodie asked, finding himself intrigued.
“This time, instead of looking for someone to put behind bars, you’ll be keeping someone alive,” Sheriff Griffith replied.
Intrigued, Woodie gave a slight smile. He still wasn’t sure he wanted to take another job, at least for a few months. He had made plenty of money over the last few years and could easily not work for at least a year if he wished. But this job sounded different from the others he usually took. “Tell me more.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. You’ll need to go see Patrick Whittaker.”
Woodie didn’t recognize the name. “Who is he?”
“He’s somewhat of a drifter but settled here in Mansfield about six months ago. If you want this job, you’ll need to go talk to him. He’ll be the one who will pay you. I just want you to understand that it’s not the usual bounty hunter job.”
Woodie leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment. “I was going to tell you I needed a few months’ break. What if I talk to this man and decide I don’t want the job?”
Sheriff Griffith shrugged. “Then Patrick will need to find someone else. He came to me a few days ago and told me he wanted my best man. I told him about you.”
Woodie knew he should feel flattered, but instead, he felt almost … tired. But Sheriff Griffith had just paid him a great compliment, and he might as well at least hear what the man wanted before he turned it down.
“Give me his address, and I’ll see what he wants,” Woodie finally agreed.
Sheriff Griffith scribbled something on paper and handed it to Woodie. “Let me know what you decide.”
Woodie nodded and stood up. Leaving the office, he glanced at the address and was glad it was just down the street. He wouldn’t need to go back to his house to get his horse but could just walk there.
The place Patrick Whittaker lived in was small and nondescript. It had been made of gray wood with slate shingles. The yard looked unkempt and empty. Woodie knocked loudly on the door, and it opened almost immediately, but only a crack.
“Yes?”
“Are you Patrick Whittaker?”
The man nodded.
“I’m Woodie Soper. Sheriff Griffith sent me to talk to you.”
“Oh, yes. Just a moment.” The door shut for a few seconds and then opened again, but wider this time. The man who stood in his doorway wasn’t what Woodie had anticipated.
He was smaller than the average man by at least five inches, although he looked only a few years older than Woodie’s twenty-nine years. He had dark brown hair and almost black eyes that darted up and down the street as if looking for someone. Woodie did the same, but no one was around.
“Are you expecting someone else?” Woodie asked curiously.
“No, no. Come in.” Patrick stepped aside and allowed Woodie to enter.
The moment Woodie entered the house, Patrick almost slammed the door behind him as if he expected someone else to run up to the house and force himself inside.
“Come and sit down. Would you like some coffee?” Patrick asked as he began to walk to a side room, but in the process, he tripped over a leather bag and would have almost fallen if Woodie hadn’t reached out to grab his arm.
“Thanks,” Patrick said as he smiled nervously at Woodie and pulled his arm from Woodie’s grasp.
He studied the older man as he filled a pot with water and set it on the stove to heat. Woodie didn’t want any coffee but decided not to say anything.
He noticed strands of gray in Patrick’s hair, suggesting he was older than he looked. Woodie looked around the kitchen and noticed three musical instruments. He walked over to pick up a small flute.
“Do you play?” Patrick asked.
Woodie looked at Patrick and shook his head. “No, I’m afraid I’ve never had the chance to learn any instrument. I do like listening to music, though, by those who can play and sing.”
“I make my living as a traveling musician,” Patrick explained, not acting as nervous as he took the flute from Patrick and played a short but lively tune.
Woodie smiled in appreciation. Patrick set the instrument aside and pulled out a kitchen chair.
“Go ahead and sit. The coffee should be ready in a few minutes.”
Woodie sat down, and Patrick took a chair across the table from him. “Sheriff Griffith told me that you were looking to hire someone, although he didn’t tell me what the job would entail. I should tell you that I might not take the job. I’ve been thinking of taking a break, but I thought I’d hear what you needed first.”
“I appreciate that,” Patrick said. “There is a man I’ve been avoiding for years. A man that I have to keep my daughter from.”
“Daughter?” Woodie looked around the small kitchen. From what he could tell, Patrick lived alone. He didn’t see any signs of a child.
Patrick sighed. “I need to start at the beginning. Many years ago, I had to place her in a different living environment for her safety to protect her. But Sheriff Griffith just received word that she might not be as safe as she once was.” Patrick leaned forward in his chair and looked Woodie square in the eyes. “I’m desperate. I need someone with the skills to protect my daughter, someone trained to look for danger. Her life is on the line.”
Woodie felt instantly concerned. He had spent many years putting away criminals, but he had never been offered this type of job – to save someone who really needed help but wasn’t a criminal. Even though it was different, he wasn’t worried that he couldn’t keep Patrick’s daughter safe. He did have the skills. He knew how to find men who wanted to harm others. He knew the signs and what to look for.
“Do you have a description of this man?”
Patrick frowned. “He’s about your height, older than you, and has tanned skin, black hair, and ear piercings. He’s from Mexico.”
“What’s his name?”
“I don’t know that for sure. I hid my daughter so she’ll be safe from him, and I’ve been moving around the country, singing for my supper, if you will. I don’t stay in one place very long. There have been many times when this man shows up,” Patrick explained.
“Why is he after you, and your daughter for that matter?” Woodie asked.
“I don’t know the answer to that.” Patrick stood up, poured coffee into two mugs, handed Woodie one, and sat down again before taking a sip of the hot brew. He stared at the nearby wall as if seeing something that had happened in the past.
“We were in a small town. I was performing in a saloon, trying to get some extra money. I always told her to stay by me, but on this day, she ran off. She saw something, but she wouldn’t tell me what it was. She stopped talking after that.” He glanced at Woodie. “She was only six years old.”
Something twisted inside Woodie. What made a child so scared that she refused to talk about it? Sheriff Griffith was right. This job was different from what he was used to doing.
“Are you up for the job?” Patrick asked, breaking through his thoughts. “I’m willing to pay you well.”
He named an amount that made Woodie’s eyes widen. It was enough for him to live on for a full year. He had to wonder how Patrick had access to that kind of money when he was a traveling musician.
“If I do this job, it won’t be for the money,” Woodie said firmly. He didn’t want Patrick to think he only took the job because of money. He would be taking it because he was confident he could keep Patrick’s daughter safe. Something in his gut told him he needed to take this job. He made an instant decision, but Patrick continued before he could say anything.
“I do need to ask that you don’t tell my daughter or the family she is staying with that I sent you or even the reason why you are there.”
Woodie frowned, not sure he thought this was a good idea. Wouldn’t it be better if his daughter knew she was in danger?
Patrick continued as if he could read Woodie’s thoughts. “I think it would be best if she weren’t aware. As long as you are watching over her and can find this man, she’ll be protected, and maybe she won’t even find out that this man has been looking for her.”
Woodie stared at Patrick for a long moment. He could see that Patrick felt that he was keeping his daughter safe by not telling her what was going on.
“I’ll take the job, and I promise I will keep her alive. Of course, I need more information, but I do have one important question. What is your daughter’s name?”