From Hell To Texas by Ed Earl Repp

Book Details

From Hell To Texas – Up North they called Duffy Kildare a hero. But he was a traitor in any man’s language when he rode home to Texas after Appomattox – to fight for the doomed boom-town that had disowned him! This full length novel by Ed Earl Repp (1901-1979) was written in 1940.

Chapter I – Yankees Not Wanted
Chapter II – Outcast’s Inheritance
Chapter III – Depression Builds A Boomtown
Chapter IV – The Grizzly And The Fox
Chapter V – Old Sarge Baylor
Chapter VI – The Rule Of Hell Begins
Chapter VII – First Blood In Dos Pasos
Chapter VIII – Panic!
Chapter IX – Stagecoach To Hell
Chapter X – The Killer Death Forgot
Chapter XI – Blood Money Man
Chapter XII – Back To The Wall

(This novel was not the basis for the movie From Hell To Texas. The movie was based on the novel, The Hell-Bent Kid, by Charles O. Locke.)

From Hell To Texas has 3 illustrations.

Files:

1. FromHellToTexas.epub

Excerpt: From Hell To Texas

Chapter I

Yankees Not Wanted

THE wintry bleakness of hard years of war lay in the pale eyes of Duffy Kildare as he curbed his mount in a shady elbow of Moscon Creek, where the meandering stream began to straighten out, before skirting the cowtown of Dos Pasos. Sandy-haired, bitter-lipped, he loosed the reins, so his trail-stained horse could dip an eager muzzle into the clear water.

The middle-aged man a-saddle beside him took advantage of the shade and coolness of the bosque to remove his Army cap, and mop his red. perspiring forehead. Gray cottonwoods and willows, their roots lost in Moscon’s sandy banks, made a drab background for the dusty blue of the two men’s uniforms.

With the mouth of his canteen brushing his flat lips, Sergeant Holt Cain paused to growl, “Looks like you’re home, soldier! But you ain’t goin’ to be damfool enough to stay, like you said you was, are you?” The lean, sun-burned young cavalry captain kicked his feet out of the stirrups and stretched his long legs, as if trying, futilely, to work out the stiffness gained by four years of fighting in the saddle.

“It’s not a question of wanting to stay,” he replied tersely. “There’s the matter of an estate, and other things that need nosing into. I don’t figure on staying forever, but I’ll likely be bunking in Dos Pasos for a month, anyway.”

The gray-haired sergeant wiped his lips, frowning at the younger man. “I’ll tell you somethin’, Duffy,” he said. “You ain’t goin’ to hit it off here anymore. This is Texas, an’ you’ve been four years fightin’ her an’ the rest of the south. Local boy or not, you’re goin’ to be just another damn Yankee in Dos Pasos . . . . an’ they’ll treat you accordin’ly. It’ll take a long time for folks down here to get over lickin’ their wounds an’ forgettin’ their hatreds. Have you forgotten what happened in the other Texas towns we been through the last few months?”

Duffy Kildare shook his leonine head and loosed his service hat, “I don’t reckon I could.” he admitted. “It’s something new to have women spit at me, and men cuss me out when I walk down a street. But I’ve lived here all my life. Maybe Dos Paso’ll be different. If not, I’ll have to tough it out. Either way, I’ve got to stay a while. Let’s ride on, an’ have a farewell drink before you leave.”

Holt Cain shrugged and followed him through the shallow stream. Then, side by side, the two men headed their mounts toward town.

THERE seemed to be a chunk of lead in Duffy Kildare’s slab-muscled chest as they rode toward Dos Pasos, It was more than the dread of homecoming that deepened the lines about his fine mouth, and put darker shadows in his gray eyes. He had seen things, on the long ride back to the little central Texas town, that made him feel older than his twenty-five years And the sting of his reception everywhere still burned in him.

At Appomattox eight months ago, the Civil War had officially ended. But, for the South, the shadows of a more cruel strife were gathering … a war that knew no armistice. The savage fangs of depression were already sunk deeply in the vast Texas rangelands. Millions of mavericks, it was said, were running wild throughout the state, wearing no man’s brand, and belonging to anyone with the ambition to round them up.

The ugly word depression was new to Kildare, but it rang now on all sides. He saw endless brown clouds, that were scabby herds of longhorns, grazing the land bare. Men were trying to sell, for a pittance, ranches into which they’d put their life blood—and being laughed at. Vast domains, once great, were now deserted and worthless. He’d seen with his own eyes, whole towns desperate for food, the women and children in rags, ravaged by the dogs of war.

He and Cain had strung together in Georgia for the long trek west All the way they had faced the hatred of these desperate people, They, cursed them and their blue uniforms, blamed them for their plight. For while Texas men had been away fighting, kin against kin, friend against friend, the cattle had run wild and become a vast herd of gaunt, dangerous outlaws, fleet as deer, tough as whangleather.

A slow anger built up in Duffy as they neared Dos Pasos. He’d had his fill, now, of being called a damned Yankee, a blackguard; of swallowing insults, because he pitied and understood the Southerners’ feelings. Hell, he was one of them. But because he’d fought for the cause he thought was right, he was a mongrel dog! He promised himself silently as he rode that he had to fight his way back to respect, that the next man who braced him with insults would taste bared knuckles.

Late August heat lay thick and sultry over Dos Pasos and the bosque land. Kildare’s coat was open at the throat and his white shirt gleamed in the sunlight. Sparks kindled on his brass buttons and bright epaulettes. Dust lay in the creases of his holster, and the walnut butt of his service pistol was gray with it. He rode regally in his Army saddle, a figure to command respect wherever fighting men gathered. But now he knew little but hatred and scorn of a brave but vanquished enemy.

Excerpt From: Ed Earl Repp. “From Hell To Texas.”