William W. Johnstone - A Town Called Fury
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- Year:2011
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A Town Called Fury: summary, description and annotation
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From legendary William W. Johnstone comes an exciting new saga of the American frontier town called Fury, built smack dab in the middle of the untamed Arizona Territory...and the only man who can give Fury a fighting chance...The last thing Jason Fury wants is to lead this wagon train west to California. Hell, he just wants to head back east, where a smart young man like himself has a real shot at a better life. But halfway across Oklahoma the wagon train is attacked by bloodthirsty Commanche, and Jedediah Fury the leader of the settlers, and Jasons father is counted among the dead. Before he knows it, Jasons leading the wagons into Arizona Territory, where the squabbling settlers decide to stop for good and start a town theyll name Fury in honour of Jedediah. Its going to be a hardscrabble life, what with the ruthless Apaches always on the attack and the harsh country theyve chosen. Jason knows he cant just leave these defenceless pioneers to be slaughtered - among them a certain young lady hes taken a real shine to.
William W. Johnstone: author's other books
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Table of Contents
E PILOGUE
Dear Carl,
Well, thats it. Sorry if I burst your balloon about the killing of the gunman, Ezra Welk, but sometimes the truth is, far and away, more interesting than anything you or I could make up. And certainly I couldnt have come up with anything more poetic than the real reason for his death.
Jason Fury has already read this, by the way, and given his go-ahead on the project. He lives alone now, in the same old house he built on Second Street, although the place has certainly grown some. Fury now has a real grade school, a junior high, and a high school, and there is talk of a junior college. Theyre well past Second Street these days and up to streets in the forty-somethings. They are, in fact, nearly halfway up to the MacDonalds spread.
And since the Apache no longer pose a threat, the east wall (along with the northern one) has been taken down and the cactus that the wind planted beside the wall has been turned into a pretty (if prickly) little park that separates the east and west ends of Main Street.
Fury has also become a popular vacation spot for Hollywood types, and several well-known names (including Tom Mix and William S. Hart) own property there, or at least come to stay over for a week or two here and there. As you might guess, this had led to the development of a number of swank restaurants and so on, and added to the townsfolks bank accounts.
The marshals office has been replaced, as have several other buildings. Solomon Cohens mercantile is still there, although now it is run by his grandsons, Issac and David. Did I mention that Solomon, in his later years, invented the valve for the modern flush toilet, adding to the work already done by the original English inventor, Mr. Crapper? It made him quite wealthy. And by the way, there is now a good-sized Jewish community in Fury, with its own synagogue and its own private cemetery. I noticed that they hadnt moved Sampson Davis over there, though. Perhaps they thought he wasnt worth the bother, and perhaps you agree with them, as do I.
The Catholic church is booming, too. A new structure was erected in 1900, and although Father Micah is long gone, the new priest, Father Tim McKay, seems a good fellow, and had no trouble letting me peruse the church records and regaling me with stories of Fury originally told to him by Father Micah.
The Reverend Milchers old church has been refurbished and now serves as the First Presbyterian. Reverend Bean eventually opened a Baptist church, which only survived three years.
Youll be interested to know that the town of Fury has erected an enormous, heroic, bronze statue in the center of Main Street, where the community well once stood, of old Jedediah Fury, himself. Jason tells me it doesnt do Jedediah justice, but then, youd expect any son to say that about any edifice erected in his fathers image. (Water is now piped direct to the houses and so on, and there is a municipal sewer system in place, along with a small water treatment plant.)
Jasons sister, Jenny, is the widow of the late Rafe Lynch, who passed away in 1903 after being mortally wounded by a would-be bank robber. However, he is survived by not only his wife, but three children and six grandchildren, one of whom serves as the present marshal (or chief of police, as they now call the position) of Fury. He is called Jason, after his great-uncle, and frequently seeks his advice and counsel.
Jason, himself, married a few years after the time of our story, and it came as a surprise to nearly everybody in town. He is a widower now, but his sons have gone into the family businesses, as it were. The elder, Jeremy, is a U.S. Marshal, and the other, Jasper, sells real estate. Between them, they have given Jason three granddaughters and four grandsons.
Most of the others in the story have passed on, mores the pity. I would have greatly admired to have met old Salmon Kendall and Abe Todd.
I should probably say here, too, that old Wash Keogh never did strike it rich. Apparently, that enormous nugget he found was a one-of-a-kind relic (although he kept looking for some years), but he never cashed it in. It is presently under guard and on display at the Fury Historical Society and Museum, along with several souvenirs from the original wagon train, including the Milchers original piano, a real Conestoga wagon, a great many wanted posters from back in the day, and so on.
I must cut this off, for I hear the train pulling in to the depot, and they usually dont stay over too long. I want to get this off to you as soon as possible, my friend, and I trust that youll enjoy reading about what I trust was the most action-packed week (in non-fiction, at least) in Arizona, ever!
Best Wishes,
Bill
Bill
The black, biting wind was so strong and so fierce that Jason feared there was no more skin left on his upper facethe only part not covered by his hat or bandanna.
His nostrils were clogged with dust and snot, despite the precautionary bandanna, and his throat was growing thick with dust and grit. Whoever had decided to call these things dust storms had never been in one, he knew that for certain. Oh, they might start out with dust, but as they grew, they picked up everything, from pebbles to grit to bits of plants and sticks. Hed been told they could rip whole branches from trees and arms off cacti, and add them into the whirling, filthy mess, blasting small buildings and leaving nothing behind but splinters.
He hadnt believed it then.
He did now.
He could barely see a foot in front of him, and just moving was dangeroushis britches had turned into sandpaper, and his shirt was no better.
At last he reached his officeor at least, he thought it wasand put his shoulder into the door. He hadnt needed to. The wind took it, slamming both the door and Jason against the wall with a resounding thud that must have startled folks as far away as two doors up and down, even over the storms howling, unending roar.
It took him over five minutes to will both his body and the door into cooperating, but he finally got it closed. Slouching against it, he went into a coughing jag that he thought would never quit. He would rather have been cursing up a storm than coughing one up, but when it finally stopped, a good, long drink from the water bucket put the world right side up. Well, mostly. He still couldnt breathe through his nose, but a good, long honkwell, six or sevenon his bandanna put that right again.
With the wind still howling like a banshee outside and flinging everything not tied down against his shutters and door, he thanked God for one thing: The storm was, at least, keeping everyone inside, which included Rafe Lynchwanted for eight killings in California, across the riverand currently ensconced at Abigail Krimps bar and whorehouse, up the street.
He didnt know much about Lynch, other than that he was clean in Fury, and for that matter in the whole of Arizona, and Jason was therefore constrained by law to keep his paws off Lynch, and his lead to himself. Actually, he felt relieved. He didnt feel up to tangling with someone of Lynchs reported ilk. Still, he was worried. What if Lynch tried to stir up some trouble? And what if he or Ward couldnt handle it? Ward was a good deputy, but he wouldnt want to put him up against Lynch in a card game, let alone a shoot-out.
He sighed raggedly, although he couldnt hear himself. Outside the jailhouse walls, the storm pounded harder and harsher. Dust seeped in everywhere: around the door and the windows, even up through the plank floor. Jason knew damn well that the floor only had two inchesor lessof clearance above the dirt underneath, and this occurrence left him puzzled.
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