On a cold and windy evening in April 1879, buffalo hunter Levi Richardson ordered a drink, sat down near the pot-bellied stove at the front of the Long Branch Saloon, and waited.  The Dodge City, Kansas, saloon had seen its share of gunplay over the years, and this night would be no exception.

Richardson had decided to confront his former friend, professional gambler Frank Loving, to settle differences stemming from Richardson’s affection for Loving’s wife, Mattie. As the night grew late, Richardson decided to leave. Just as he started for the front door, Loving walked in.

The two men sat down at a long table and engaged in a heated argument. A short time later, they stood up and faced each other.   Witnesses say Richardson drew his handgun first, prompting the 19-year old Loving to draw his own pistol, and both men began shooting at each other.

Gunsmoke filled the Long Branch, and most of the customers scattered to avoid the bullets. Several doors to the east of the Long Branch, Dodge CIty Marshal Charlie Bassett heard the shooting, and quickly made his way there. With the help of Deputy Sheriff Duffey, Bassett separated and disarmed the two men. Bassett found Loving’s Remington No. 44 empty; Richardson had emptied his gun of five shots.

Duffey had thrown Richardson into a chair. But he got to his feet and staggered toward the billiard table and fell to the floor. The buffalo hunter was dead from wounds to his chest and side. He was 28. Loving, miraculously, escaped injury except for a slight scratch on the hand.

Two days later, a coroner’s inquest ruled that Loving shot Richardson in self-defense, and he was released. He would later leave his wife, and two children, and move to Las Vegas, New Mexico, also known for its lawlessness. Loving left Las Vegas in 1882, and made his way to Trinidad, Colorado. There, he would later die the same way Richardson did.

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In LAST STAND AT BITTER CREEK, McCabe’s Saloon & Billiards is where former Union spy Grant Bonner risks exposure when he unexpectedly meets up with a man who had twice tried to kill him. Bonner, however, realizes he must keep his real identity a secret to carry out the plan to bring a cunning enemy to justice. Read more about LAST STAND AT BITTER CREEK.

One of the most legendary lawman of the Indian Territory was a man named Bass Reeves. He stood six-feet-two, weighed 180 pounds, and could shoot with either hand–and with deadly accuracy.

Reeves, one of the first black lawmen west of the Mississippi, was a former slave. And he achieved a reputation as the longest serving Deputy Marshal in the 223-year history of the US Marshal Service.

Born into slavery in 1938, Reeves spent his younger years as the property of the William S. Reeves family of Crawford County, Arkansas. The family later moved to Texas. But, when the Civil War started, Reeves  escaped to Indian Territory – now present-day Oklahoma.

There, he lived among the Creek and Seminole tribes and learned their language. And he also learned other skills that he was able to call on when needed.

Because of his knowledge of the territory, and his canny tracking abilities, Reeves often helped Deputy Marshals stationed at Van Buren, Arkansas, and Fort Smith. His success earned him a commission as deputy marshal in 1875, when Judge Isaac Charles Parker took over the post for the Western District of Arkansas.

Reeves spent 32 years as a deputy marshal, and is said to have brought in as many as three-thousand prisoners during this career. Accounts say that Reeves brought in fugitives by the dozen to the Fort Smith federal jail. And one story credits him with capturing and escorting 19 horse thieves near Fort Sill, Oklahoma, to Fort Smith.

His name seemed to strike fear into some outlaws. Belle Star, who survived as a bandit, horse thief, and bootlegger, is said to have turned herself in when she learned that Reeves carried a warrant for her arrest.

What made his achievements so remarkable was that Bass Reeves couldn’t read or write. Typically, someone would read him a stack of warrants of arrest, which he would memorize before starting a pursuit with his posse.

At one point in his career, Reeves was charged with murder, for allegedly killing a posse cook. But he was eventually acquitted by Judge Parker. Reeves retired from his law enforcement career as a member of the Muskogee, Oklahoma, Police Department.

Earlier this month, a larger-than-life monument of Reeves was unveiled at Fort Smith. Titled “Into the Territory,” the monument depicts the lawman on horseback, holding a rife.

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In my novel, LAST STAND AT BITTER CREEK, a black Union Army soldier and spy plays a pivotal role in the outcome of the story. Click here to learn more about this exciting, historical, action-adventure.

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In the novel, BROTHERS IN ARMS, author Troy D. Smith, tells a gritty story of three brothers trying to find their way after the war, and how their beliefs and passions send them in different directions.

For Wade Qualls, the eldest, the War of Northern Aggression isn’t yet quite over; never mind that Gen. Robert E. Lee has surrendered. Still wearing his long, gray coat like a badge of honor, and brandishing a Confederate saber, he clings to the notion that he is the one man who can lead the way to retrieve the honor and glory of the South, so “folks can hold up their heads again and be proud.”

It takes cash to finance the rebuilding of an army. Wade leads a tattered gang of former Rebels, including his youngest brother, Tim, in a series of bank robberies and other crimes–all of which net the outlaws very little.

Wade is on the lookout for one big score that he can use to recruit former Confederates and shape them into a real Army and “pick up where Lee left off.”

Kid brother Tim doesn’t share Wade’s passion and drive of Wade but, sticks close nevertheless. With the law closing in, Tim and Wade and the rest of his small gang flee Kansas and Missouri, and head to his hometown of Ithaca, Tennessee, to rest and regroup.

Waiting in Ithaca is 27-year old Sam Qualls who, with his father, fought for the Union. Sam’s decision to return to Ithaca didn’t endear him to the Ithaca community.

Sam, who wears a black patch in place of the eye he lost in the war, is a farmer and part-time deputy. Sam has settled down and, married, and has two young boys. Ironically, he’s married to a headstrong, and sometimes bitter, Violet Mason, who once assumed that she and Wade would be married someday. And Sam knows  how she feels, even telling Violet, “You’ve never forgiven me for not being Wade.”

The story is fast-paced, filled with realistic dialogue. And you’ll get a close-up-and-personal glimpse into how the Civil War not only ripped the fabric of a nation, but had devastating consequences on families.

• Does Wade find the big payday he was looking for?
• What happens when the three brothers reunite?
• Do Violet and Wade resume their courtship?
• How does Tim handle being caught in the middle of his two brothers?

The ending will surprise you.

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]]> http://www.tomrizzo.com/blog/2012/05/18/brothers-in-arms/feed/ 4 http://www.tomrizzo.com/blog/2012/05/16/the-ambush/ http://www.tomrizzo.com/blog/2012/05/16/the-ambush/#comments Wed, 16 May 2012 12:03:25 +0000 Tom http://www.tomrizzo.com/blog/?p=1074 Continue reading →]]>  

The man who went by the name Lockridge waited in the shadows at the back of the livery stable, watching the three war-weary Union soldiers awaiting discharge documents –or so they thought. Conversation was minimal; they kept mostly to themselves.

Lockridge saw they were armed, but it made little difference to him. An expert shootist, and accomplished bounty hunter, this gunfighter feared few men, and played by his own rules. He slid the revolver out of his holster. Only in his late-twenties, Lockridge stood tall with a solid build. His face, which carried about a day’s worth of stubble, never revealed much except, perhaps, brutal indifference.

Most people were intimidated around him. A bounty hunter by trade, the Texan spent the last few years as a hired executioner. His gun skills earned him lucrative contracts from several levels of society, including bankers, ranchers, politicians and even those associated with the law.

He preferred facing his targets, but expediency often dictated otherwise. Such as today. Lockridge estimated all three men were within about ten or fifteen feet of each other. He sighted along the long barrel of the Remington, and waited for the first whistle blast of the Ohio & Mississippi. Then he fired three shots, spaced within seconds of each other.

The neck of the soldier sitting on the wagon snapped back from the force of the headshot and fell face-first off onto the dirt floor. Lockridge aimed at the one with the eye patch and drilled a .44 caliber bullet through his coat and into his heart. The bottle fell from the sergeant’s hand, bounced against the desktop, and tumbled to the ground. The third man, asleep on the hay, only twitched when the bullet struck him in the temple, killing him in an instant.

Lockridge waited a few seconds to make sure the shots didn’t attract attention, and then emerged from hiding. After confirming the kills, he smiled, pleased with his proficiency, holstered the gun, slipped out a back door, and rode off.

Excerpted from the novel, LAST STAND AT BATTLE CREEK by Tom Rizzo

• Read the prologue and first three chapters
• Watch the video trailer
• LAST STAND AT BITTER CREEK now available 
• One reader review says “This book will keep you guessing to the end of the dusty, blood stained trail.”

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In the summer of 1863, Brig. Gen. John Hunt Morgan lead nearly 2,500 Confederate troopers on the longest cavalry raid of the Civil War. Although hailed as the greatest of all cavalry incursions of the war, the Great Raid of 1863 proved far too risky and self-destructive.

Morgan and his men rode over a thousand miles behind enemy lines, sweeping through southern Indiana and Ohio –further North than any other Southern force would advance. The rain, however, wasn’t sanctioned by the Confederate Command.

After he joined the Confederate army, Morgan rose through the ranks rather quickly, and established a reputation for his cavalry raids. Starting in July 1862 — in the span of just a year — Morgan conducted several spectacular raids on Union-held territory, disrupting Yankee supply lines, and capturing about 1,200 Union soldiers. His hand-picked band of raiders traveled light, and lived off the land.

On orders from Gen. Braxton Bragg, regional Confederate commander, Morgan and his men left Sparta, Tennessee, on June 11, 1863, for Kentucky, where they were to provide a distraction to Union Union troops.  Although under strict orders not to cross the Ohio River, Morgan told his officers that he long had a desire to invade Ohio and Indiana and carry the terror of war to the North.

During the raid, Morgan’s Raiders captured and paroled about six-thousand Union solders. They disrupted railroads, diverted tens of thousands of troops from other duties, and took control of supplies, food, and other items worth thousands of dollars.

Morgan lost hundreds of his men in various skirmishes. After several failed attempts to return to Kentucky, he headed into northeastern Ohio where he was chased down by Federal troops and eventually surrendered at Salineville, Ohio, on July 26. Morgan and his officers are imprisoned at the Ohio State Penitentiary in Columbus. But, in November, he and several of his men managed to tunnel out of the prison and escape.

Once back behind Confederal lines, Morgan attempted to reassemble his army to replace the one he lost in Ohio. But he was never able to achieve his past success. The Southern press wrote of him as a hero. The Confederate command, however, though otherwise, because of his failure to reveal his plans for the ill-advised raid into the North.

Combatting an impending court martial, Morgan continued to fight. While staying at the home of a friend in Greeneville, Tennessee, on September 1864, Union troops staged a surprise attack and Morgan was shot in the back, and later died, while trying to escape.

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Union spy Grant Bonner makes his own long ride in Last Stand at Bitter Creek, available now. See the video.

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The young woman sitting at the poker table, dressed in a fashionable low-cut gown, puffed on a large black stogie as she studied her cards, deciding whether to raise the bet.

Alice Ivers Tubbs – known mostly as Poker Alice – carved a reputation as the best known female poker player in the American West during the 1880s, working  saloons and gambling halls throughout New Mexico and Colorado, as both a Faro dealer and a poker player.

Born in 1851, her family first settled in Virginia and, later, moved to Leadville, Colorado, at the height of the silver rush. While living in Leadville, Ivers met Frank Duffield, a mining engineer, who was a skilled player and taught Alice how to play. Not long after they were married, Duffield was killed by a dynamite explosion at one of the mines in Leadville.

Although she had an excellent education, none of the jobs available in the mining camp seemed to suit her. Instead, she opted to make a living by taking advantage of her poker playing skills, which she learned from her husband.

Young and attractive, Poker Alice stood five-feet-four with flashing blue eyes and soft brown hair, which helped lure large crowds to the saloons and gambling halls she visited. But, her good looks often served as a distraction to male poker players. She traveled to Silver City, New Mexico, where she stopped at the Gold Dust Gambling House, won six-thousand dollars, and traveled to New York City on a shopping spree, –one of several journeys there.

You would think that her success and reputation discourage men from sitting at the same table. But, not so. There were always men eager to challenge her card-playing skills.

After touring most of the Old West, she ended up in Deadwood, South Dakota, where she teamed up with another dealer and player, Warren Tubbs, who worked as a housepainter. During one of the poker games they were playing, a drunken miner pulled a knife and threatened Tubbs. But Poker Alice, who always carried a gun, pulled out her .38 caliber and shot the miner in the arm.

Poker Alice and Tubbs eventually got married and had seven children –four sons and three daughters.

With a family to raise, and a ranch to work, Poker Alice didn’t spend as much time gambling, as in the past. But, after Tubbs died of pneumonia, Alice  once again found her way onto the gambling circuit to make a living. She died at 79 from complications of a gall bladder operation.

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My novel - Last Stand at Bitter Creek  - is now available in an e-book version, with the paperback slated for release May 15th. Follow the adventures of burned-out Union Army spy Grant Bonner who finds himself the target of an unrelenting manhunt. For Bonner, the war isn’t over and won’t be until he makes his Last Stand at Bitter Creek. It’s a fast-paced story I believe you’ll enjoy.

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A small, quiet man with dark eyes, in a black suit, stood off to the side listening, and watching, as death warrants were read to six felons seated along the back of the gallows. Moments later, after they were positioned on the scaffold, George Maledon stepped up to each one, tightened the noose around their necks, and sprung the trap that left then dangling dead from the end of ropes.

On that day, Sept. 3, 1875, more than five-thousand people watched largest group ever executed at one time. Maledon served as chief executioner for Federal Judge Isaac Parker  for the Western District of Arkansas. A Civil War veteran, Maledon wore two pistols, and was said to have been a crack shot.

“The Prince of the Hangmen,” as he was called, hanged at least sixty men during his career, and shot several others trying to escape from the jail at Ft. Smith.

The hangman took great pride in his work, using ropes of the finest hemp, and tying the knot in such a fashion to break the man’s neck instantly rather then have him strangle.

In an interview with the Chicago Daily Tribune ( Sept. 25, 1887, pg. 26), he said, “I always prepare the ropes a week or more before the day of execution and stretch them with dummies, adjusting the trap and letting them fall through five or six times each day.”

Maledon told the newspaper that he always advised the condemned not to move their heads after the rope is adjusted.

“I always shake the hand of each one and bid them good-by just before pulling the black caps over, and I have become so accustomed to it that it is no more than bidding farewell to a friend who is starting out on a journey, perhaps never to return.”

After retiring in 1894, he and opened a grocery store at Fort Smith. A few years later, he toured the nation, appearing at carnivals and fairs, standing inside a tent displaying some of the nooses he used, along with pieces of the gallows’ beam, and photographs of some of the men he hanged. He also regaled the crowds with stories about his vocation.

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The ebook version of my novel, Last Stand at Bitter Creek, is now available. The paperback will be released on May 15th.

The story involves burned-out Union Army spy Grant Bonner who finds himself the target of an unrelenting manhunt. For Bonner, the war isn’t over and won’t be until he makes his Last Stand at Bitter Creek. It’s a fast-paced story I believe you’ll enjoy.

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Despite the sounds of distant gunfire, Dr. Caleb Wright poured Chloroform onto a cloth and, without hesitation, lowered it over the wounded soldier’s nose and mouth, waiting for the man to lapse into unconsciousness.

A bullet had ripped through the solider’s leg and Wright had only one option –amputation. And he had to get it done fast. Dozens of wounded filled the tent awaiting treatment.

Wright looked across the table at the stack of amputated limbs several feet high, and shook his head, trying his best not to succumb to the despair he felt. But he was confident he could at least save this soldier’s life . . .

Medical knowledge — at least as the start of the Civil War — was primitive, at best. Physicians had little understanding of infection. For example, even though soldiers were at risk of being shot and killed during combat, more soldiers died of disease than from gunshot wounds.

Army camps were breeding grounds for disease because of inadequate sanitation facilities. In addition, the camps were crowded. And what made matters even worse was the poor quality of food and water.

Antiseptics weren’t yet widely available. And little attempt was made to maintain a sterile environment during surgery.

Surgeons, for the most part, weren’t  prepared to deal with critically injured soldiers –especially the ones who were shot. If a solder sustained a wound to his leg or arm, there was usually one option –amputation. And because of the hundreds of wounded awaiting treatment, surgeons became proficient at performing them. Sometimes — if you could even fathom the thought — Chloroform, or ether, wasn’t available.

 In an effort to confront the situation, a Report of the U.S. Sanitary Commission issued guidelines on July 12, 1861, aimed at improving the “health and efficiency of our troops no win the field and to prevent unnecessary disease and suffering . . . ”

Despite their inexperience, physicians did a remarkable job of caring for the wounded. The medical community, each year the war was fought, not only increased in size, it improved its techniques and gained a greater understanding of medicine in treating disease as well as wounds.

One of the key characters in my novel, is a country doctor by the name of Caleb Wright. Not only was Wright instrumental in administering to Grant Bonner, the novel’s main character, he also played a pivotal role as a dependable advisor and friend.

Click here to learn more about Last Stand at Bitter Creek.  Or visit my author page on Amazon.

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One of the few documented examples of two men facing each other in a quick-draw duel took place in Springfield, Missouri, between Wild Bill Hitchcock and Davis Tutt. A dispute over a card game, several days earlier, precipitated the gunfight.  And on July 21, 1865, Hickok and Tutt stood about 60-70 paces apart in the town square of Springfield, Missouri.

Accounts say the two men fired at about the same time. Tutt missed. But Hickok didn’t. His bullet struck Tuff on his left side between the fifth and seventh ribs, and he collapsed and died.

A month later, Hickok was acquitted of a murder charge after pleading self-defense.

History – and Hollywood – has a way of exaggerating the skills of gunmen of the American West. It was rare for two men to face each other on a dusty main street. In most cases, sharp-shooting gunmen who happened to find themselves in the same locale usually kept their distance from each other.

Despite their reputations, they took few risks because of the respect they had for the other’s gun skills.

Hickok, however, helped create and perpetuate the myth of quick-draw gun battles in an interview with Harper’s New Monthly Magazine in which he bragged that he had killed hundreds of men. Several newspapers, however, contended the article was packed with inaccuracies and, for the most part, labeled Hickok a liar for making such a boast.

One of the more famous face-to-face gunfights took place the OK Corral between the Earp brothers and the Ike Clanton gang, in Tombstone, Arizona. This showdown lasted only thirty seconds.

Wyatt Earp, who was involved in the OK Corral shootout, once told an interviewer that it was not speed that counted in a gun battle, it was deliberation –taking the time to aim and pull the trigger once.

Most of the reputations of gunfighters in the Wild West were the result of pure self-promotion.

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A band of robbers watched the three prospectors make their way down a miner’s trail in a canyon, deep in the Sierra-Nevada Mountains. It was Dec. 19, 1854. The miners were Capt. Jonathan R. Davis, James McDonald, and Dr. Bolivar Sparks. Minutes later, 14 men emerged from behind boulders and brush and began firing.

McDonald, of Alabama, never had a chance to clear his holster. Dr. Sparks, of Mississippi, returned fire twice, but was struck twice, and crumpled to the ground.

The one man left standing was Capt. Davis, a veteran of the Mexican-American War, was armed with two Colt revolvers and a large Bowie knife. Davis, an expert marksman, drew both Colts and began firing.

Before his revolvers were empty, Davis had killed seven outlaws. He then whipped out the Bowie knife, and charged the rest of the gang. Despite a barrage of bullets, Davis killed stabbed several others, slicing off the nose and finger of one gang member.

When the haze from the gunfire cleared, seven attackers were dead, four suffered serious wounds, and the three remaining fled.

Despite extensive newspaper reports about what would be branded the deadliest small arms battle in American history, some editors considered the story an exaggeration.

It wouldn’t be until three months later, that Captain Davis, along with the brother-in-law of Dr. Sparks, and three miners who witnessed the battle appeared at the office of the Placerville, (Calif.) Mountain Democrat and convinced the editor the story was true.

Regretfully, the story became old news, faded into history, and was eventually forgotten.

In my new just-released novel, Sheriff Tim McCutcheon finds himself outnumbered in a gun battle on the town’s main street. Check out Last Stand at Bitter Creek.

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