Continuing tales of Bo Jon Little horse P.I.
That it takes cunning as a Native-Indian foxlike trackings skills to capture and apprehend criminals that modern law-makes can't. Read along as Bo Jon L. investigates, deduces, determined and derives the final apprehension of some of the modern-west criminals and assailants. In 14 chapters, Bo Jon Little horse p.i. become a true detective on the case. Read: "Continuing tales of Bo Jon Little horse p.i."
[Sample:]
Continuing-tales of Bo Jon Littlehorse P.I.
By
Danny E. Allen
KDP publishing edition
Copyright Danny E. Allen 2023
Blood Along Red River
[One]
The sky blended with clouds-blue, chartreuse and yellowy-crimson. The silence of Red river-pass was setting into sunset over the high-barren rocks. The brown sandstone was standing austere and weathered, water-carved, ridges and below. The calm and shallow-waters of the muddy medium-ebbed sinuously along the open-range and beyond the grassy-brush where the deer, nesting-fowl and other harboring animals sought refuge. The winds blew hush, warm in early-Fall. The southerly state, saw the easiness of the season and place. Hospitable to stay during coldness of higher-latitudes, often a retreat and vacation-spot for winter’s sun-seekers. The Red River, as the flowing waters were called. Over many centuries before the white-man, as old as the ancient-native Indian its flow continuing-on as the saga of human life…
It was early-Fall. Summer had come to an end, the waning-sun had began its last high, hot and strong course. Heading toward the West as day’s long-dwelling and refuge, instilling landscape. The sandy drifts spewed-out along the outer-banks of a corroding, devoid-pass… A tawny-brown hand delves into the brack of the river in-splutter and splash. Pulling-out a finger-full of sediment, putting up to smell-it, having an alkaline odor. He then returns it to Her-Mother. The man dressed in chamois, light-brown jacket western-jeans, brown leather-boots and Indian-deco, dark brown silk-shirt. The river “Red” flows calmly, around the bend were nesting-birds, grazing-deer and other creatures sit, unseen. Bo Jon Littlehorse P.I. on the case looks east then west, toward the setting-sun, heading-toward nightfall. Bo Jon Littlehorse, was the official-detective on the case-in a murder of a young-woman now, dead 42- hours… Hired, by considered-suspect, Susan Partridge. The deceased, found faced-down near the site. Police crime-unit had left the remnants-of the investigations, no more than 8-hours-earlier… Bo, was asked to take-on the case 18-hours earlier. First, to meet with her, for questioning; 2-hours, by SUV, not his-vehicle, to reach the Red and undertake his end of what would assist Ms. Partridge… He walked the area, using his Indian keen-sense of observation, to see things others ignored.
The weapon-used; a military-rifle at point-blank range. …This, lending to a possibility that the victim knew her-assailant. Bo Jon was still ruminating this aspect. He had come from Reno, where the defendant lived, was head-curator for the Lincoln museum. Sheila Brown, a talented museum-associate at the Lincoln Art Gallery last-alive, leaving-on vacation from her close-friend’s place disinterested parties claimed of others… It had been a sobering-occurrence; a single-individual angled-into suspicion or official-indictment…
…She liked ‘details’, intrinsic and statements in-colors, anything having-”hues”… She’d seen the Yellow-River, the Cote D’ Azure(Blue coast), the Irish Isles and many other color-oriented places. She’d went with Susan, and on sabbaticals alone. Susan fed this-hobby, giving-support and interests. In late-summer, she’d planned a trip to Red-river, not far-from home. She’d planned to stay no-more than a few days. As she headed-off to Texas, she’d bid goodbye and it would-be the last-time she’d see her alive. A bittersweet-end to a friend’s demise… Of this and other motie, Susan gave as much of her knowledge and perception of days and events leading up to her friend’s end. As private-hours together passed both gained trust-in what would be the next-step… Bo Jon, gave his opinion of what he would try his best, to do.
This conversing, delineating and expository was now, in his-notes and considerations… Driving from her-home that night, he received arrangements for a new off-road vehicle, and in-deliberating that he had the factors to pursue at the site, and in the area. Bo-accessed through attorneys all-discovered and uncovered evidence and what crime-scene-contentions had in all aspects. Bo Jon had the greater-value of what would be a greater-’weight’ of his case, under his-belt, by one thought in-causation…
He rode along the highway, driving the SUV across the bush and back to the highway and went South, to seek residence-in the territory. He stayed at the nearest-motel. Keeping in-perspective, over-all in presence that might give-lead and perhaps the criminal might, in how articulate the pursuit; of precipitous and impresario would in convening-succession would functionally, create…
Obviously, Bo’s work was cut-out for him, in no certain-order… Proceedings and conspiring, were the ‘brick and mortar’ Jon was to build upon. …As he was driving-pavement and sped-on into the follow up. The tentative-coordinates and destinations contracted-into self-relevant ‘stints’-to working narrowed constructive-allaying… Justice to be done, yet by those volatile, yet pursuant-slights; intrajecting and jaunting-strengths, of sartorial-impressing…
…An undertaken impart intensely, metered-upon definitive-maelstrom. Bo Jon had to face in approaching-utility. The high-signs, acted like a permissive-haunting; the impetus demonstration in casting-‘visionary‘, relevant to his guises in the pretentious, encumbrance. Leaving the road too long, staring at very ennui-impression, might speak-in sequence. Thus, he was beckoning& ‘steeled‘ to deliberate in his fox-like skills. In what were concessive-vectors, coveted in chance-waxing and rhetorical-reserve in a ‘curative’ to trial…an elaboration in hard crime-work. Jon, was one of its generative-gendarmes. The duty of a man, driving-ahead in simple-discerning, to challenge courts with a somber-‘credulity‘. The terse-attitude, chosen to stay within a complexness, allowed. This central ‘tryst’ Bo so warrant fully-understood… It was a ‘concept‘-theory in “vying-forces”, that counter synched recovery-a score, in the toss of a man’s graduate and “gravity”. And so plying and parlaying in thence, the black-top correlate to the expanse by statutory, in Mr. Littlehorse’s locution. Where he, was in a contract in recourse…
***
***~”’Texas Dan’s‘-All you can eat beef-supper. -Buy yourself dinner, and have a cow…”; “Roscoe’s super-snake extravaganza-watch the rattlers get retained by our wranglers. A promising-parade of viper-pitting and poison-pumping-12 miles…” …Reading the signs standing-out along the highway in the growing darkness… Riding farther-South until reaching ‘Cattle Hills’-city;20-miles from the murder-scene. It stood 75-miles from Ft. Worth. It was a place to quietly settle-in the countryside, and probably-unknown and unheard-of in a crime that spread across 4-western states… He-appreciated that it was a deep-Indian tendency to seek-out the ‘undisturbed’ and unnoticeable. Finding it quieter& comfortable, with a-flat motel sitting-on the out-skirts of town. Sitting studiously, yet efficient. Bo realized this-empirically, but officiously, in his-intent. The Sport utility-auto was washed of debris by the all night car-wash, it being semi-intuitive, like all-demands mentally, inquisitively-designed. Suiting the natural-occurring broad-sense of the ‘bush‘… Before walking into the motel-reception room he’d expected a sufficing western-dialectic.
…“Yeh, sir…” “Hoa lawng weel yo bie stayin’?” Deciding to stay 98-hours, plenty of time to make major-checks and do some feed-statements for investigative and agency leads. Somehow, seeming ‘poignant’ as the coming-Fall night-air, was cool& misty. Like in the mystery novel-story: “Sherlocke Holmes:’Hounds of the Bastervilles’”… Also, earth as in the highway, only 30-yards away flowed-in and out, on solo-trips of truck-cargo freighting across the dark and silent-interstate… The light stayed on in his-cottage until well after-midnight as the warm-room redirected his-energies. A Cherokee-Brave was taught to take every advantage of his abilities and opportunities; and invest-in what time had-as well, also not restrict his-competence, unduly…
{The Western native-Indian had a difficult and often chanced, existence that they did not only take adept-atonement, but relied and applied to the harshest and most indubitable-of circumstances. Time after time, it became a thriving-of life…}
Within the pureblood, by a strong and enduring-heritage in-respective as one of their-own was to enforce in the ‘pretense’ of what now, was a commission-of skill… The parking-lot street-lamp-light went out at 1:30 a.m. When the truckers grew-less willing to forged-on, and the night-life was being closed-out. In the preceding, 6-hours Bo Jon had prefixed his many ‘surfacing‘& exploratory extensions… His achieved-powers of explication and discernment, a computational-cumulatively and diffraction, graining factors-in terms… Laying, in the seminal patterns-figuratively so traversed-in the striding-ruminants of legal refining conferred. Having conceived of any number-contentions by form; all-taking a ‘sliding-scale’ rot by the elements of diverting, comporting and conjugating, in-roads. Each, making-turns in-path…as his-people in Nevada, regularly intent in-skills as the native-people… This was the sworn-heart, disciplined to implications of future-foster…
Bo Jon was purely brought-in on ability to present evidence that would support client’s case… Well known for talents at uncovering the obscure, minute and over-looked. Skills at court-crime work, en par with the shrewdest of prosecutorial-alliances... Bo had his-own agenda, rigid-thinking, tended to restrict all seemly aspects that otherwise, ‘simple-logic’, and fundaments declared in a focus… He interviewed associates. Went-over rudiments of the case, and understood how he would operate and be, as best-effective… The media had taken-up the case as: museum-curator, turned-central-suspect and the determinant real-prospect that it having been a heinous-crime; he knew there were many ‘unknowns‘, to lead an anomaly-of forces. Bo was well, aware as to all the techno-jargon, stipulations& affronts that turned-and-twisted the case-to and fro; as indicative-clues against the suspect…
Riding-home that evening-from Susan Partridge’s home in more-of what trace-through the crime of what was immensely, didactic-‘threads’ than a whole purporting-of superfluous court-evidence. Bo knew that somewhere between ‘inquiry and implication’ was truth-leading both sides of the story of the lone-indicted and the finite, duly-counsel’s subjective-ordinance in-crime. And both, would have to be considered tentative-explicative; and epithetical, in-how to proceed-in what would be the legal-reality and inquest-determining unexpected-reverences…
Bo Jon knew his 12-hours, as he met her in a second-story bungalow making vector-headway was as he affirmed in-component to job at hand, in established-dissertation. Those hours were not only exposing but expansively, elaborate and empirical. …Was the conversation equal, respectively, establishing synergizing-repartee with her in four-hours, then from 8-hours in briefing. Turning-out to be very informing& stipulating-session. Whereabouts and incidentals established, while entertained at Susan’s condo-bungalow… Immaculately, decorated probably, by the inhabitant. Not-unadorned of her-talent and abilities... On several of her room-walls hanged awards, dedications-of-merit, attesting to her capabilities. Having long ago, proven herself worthy of her-reputation. Obviously full of caring, strength and charity-only an individual fourth-in her masters-degree in arts class at NYU 12 years-earlier and had not forgotten the responsibility… Donned many duties and reserving, implications of prestige and honors. A valuable-person before she met Sheila, now with all her-treasured assets she’d lost a friend who’d meant something more than ‘all’ these under any actual-circumstances…
A serious loss, being her closest-friend’s life…how she’d enjoyed, experienced and loved her, deeply. He-questioned her, in the least-detaining place, and tried not to put her on edge. In a central-air flat on the second-floor having almost floor to ceiling Bay-windows; he looked-out onto the street now, lit with street-lights. The apartment was well-kept with pictures, paintings and unique still-life sketches. A large room was where they sat, the living-room. She also had a dining-room, a large-kitchen, an especially large bath and four large-rooms of a den, two bedrooms and an easy-room. On walls of each room were diplomas, placards and declarations of honorable-mention; ”awards”, special-commissions of esteem- achieved and demonstrated. As Bo drank Latte with chocolate-bread cakes she made from scratch, they went-over facts of her-part of the story. Informing her closest legal-appointee as to how she felt, stood and on Bo’s side, any-information in Sheila’s case-study…
She had the ‘artist-eye’ in all she-discussed, about her-friend who had left a hole in her-life and now, was leaving her ‘accused’. It was not hard to give all-present descriptions from her friend’s lifestyle, in what she knew of the slightest angle-on all, she had to say… Knowing, she both revealed and held-back on
her-terms… It was up to Bo, to get her to release those reserving-ambiguities. A survivor-of a mortal act in an explicitness he had to examine with a ‘sensitive-eye’, in what was an enduring true-life emotional depiction. As they-spoke, conversed and actuated. Deciduously, he was residing in a very private yet important revealing-“succinctness”. One, requiring criticalness… As time went-on, the relationship between the two-intermingled, shared and grew in confidence. Soon, Bo was getting more in the way of who she was, the defendant, the curator, the friend…the mourning-supplicant. Who was now, relying on people she didn’t quite know, and wasn’t sure of how to face the haunting-legal and public forbearances. …And Bo knew, she was sharing something about someone as if the friend’s life depended on it… With this Bo knew, he had to take up the reigns to follow-through, make design and as in suspicion make the ratification of reasoning, reconstruction and work in recovery-to make it substantial.
***
Given the location of a parking-lot site. Where she possessed the ownership of an SUV, seeing his car from the window: a ’57 pink Cadillac; giving him permission to its more roughed-use. As he told her he would visit the crime-site. Explaining he would make, as much as possible, new-stages in evidence to find her-friend’s killer… Not imposing-on her the ‘coldness’ of the legal-system… Bo understood, his service was actually, semantically paid for by his-client… After four-hours of interviewing, he knew that the courts; whom, were closed and unfeeling, would go-through a deepened-process of stating contention. Seeming to act-in compliment, within legal-recourse, outside and in spite of coercive and affluence de facto.
**~…The ride-out, to where he had stood, was not a repeated necessity but a strange ‘centralism’, in the twist-of-the-story. A duly-reference, introduced and exposed, in synthetic and serendipity, through the night…a throw-back to the poising-schematics as in native-America’s historic-‘Scout-Indian’ deploy… A skill of deepened-resolve, against perdition, and in as intuitive-engineered-distinction… Exactingly, striven in-accord by span of ‘fact’ and time;” presence” and credibility. Bo, conferring cognitive-redemption as in standing-acquire as of extenuations… Doing, in ‘superscript’-inflexion, and as a template in subscript-into the long-vividness by a scale-incentive, diffraction; waiting to be found. Without doubtless over-deriving, un-condition or secularizing… Gliding-scale by the lancet, elision temperance and timed. The dancing-figments and oracle-semantics, defined in admix of detective and mitigation, in deduction… A ‘dependent’ constitution or import, as sun-rose and a morning-steward cock awakened-in his-call. The day, was yet developing. It was Saturday. Individual interest, aroused Bo Jon’s intuition, in young and old... The t.v.-set in a corner of the space of Jon’s room was fairly, well-made but also well-used. He turned to national-news and any stories of social-interest coming out of Ft. Worth… Broadcast metropolitan-stations, within the arenas of Texas-public, in its internal afford...nothing, a regular decorum method-liturgical crimes-man couldn’t nominally, apprise….in devise, and development… Having an extolling-stridency, potentially, duly-finite, as grains-of sand in wake of ocean sun-set, as well as in-virtual of denominational, in symmetries of a sparing-‘wind‘. Bo Jon oriented himself-to précis in relegate-‘passives’, their relegate-imparting, eventuality in hostelling evidentiary and systematic ‘dawning‘-emeritus… Fortunately, ‘graining’ with as privateer, in case. Those “finch“-fed, dubbed-endorsed legalists, and endowed in Lockheed of a duty-driven attitude, serving a condensed-tenacity.
** …In the Texas’ staple-newspaper on September 12, Dr. Sol Worthington, Doctor of Agriculture, was to teach forum on farm-community crop-growing, 22-years in successive studies of agronomy… Seemed a very appropriate-position, the paper went on-to mention aspects of a 3-day speech conference… Several credits, disclaimers out of TV station TLXV-TV out of El Paso…
He was very-comprehending in his-observation; reading the newspaper in the region while tuning-in radio county-updates... He fell-into a mild concentration and decisively, expunging-data and compiling, mentally in discretionary-fashion; storing and sorting as he went. The night had been long, 12-hours,
working for six-hours and sleeping from 1:18 a.m. to 7:08 a.m. To Bo Jon, plenty of slumber, rarely sleeping 6-hours, in chase of a case. Both-events and interpretations had his mind stay, active and sharp. Easing-into early-day was like ‘revving’ high-power engines while he imbued text, television transmissions and text technical-reference… He ate home made granola, drank dark-coffee, and finished with dried-fruit and buffalo-jerky. All of which was made by Indian-natives.
…Went-over the thoroughness, and finesse of a top-notch department… Who’d left the scene hours earlier. Bo was Indian-smart, carrying on the line. So what the Texas-Rangers over-looked, Jon recovered… Those late-evenings hours were constructive yet expedient in a clearing-direction. His 2- hours and 30 minutes were spent musing, in context pro-convictional, in terms and technical. -Complex and sardonic-division, to a layman… Sheila went-on mysterious-sabbaticals and returned after twelve days seemingly ‘happier‘, and refreshed. Never speaking of what, or where she had been. Susan began to realize she was in a better-place than being alone, with her… One day though she brought back a Bible from the retreat she had been. Susan showed-it to Bo Jon in the utterly, private-interest; he found inside, a picture, not knowing where it was from or who it could be...
Yet Bo Jon had a scheming-clue, he was driving-back to the Red, one last-time this time to verify what was an ‘infallible’-truth. Bo Jon, had read the Texas-Star locally, accessed newspaper; a group of Bible-study kids, from age 6 to 15, were visiting from Canada on an out-trip. Names of the group, and a picture of the students were taken before leaving UKC. They’d come from a special community camp. As Bo rode toward the Red, he pulled-up to the spot where a van-sat. He came closer to finding the ‘final-step’ to his crime-solving of the case. Among two-dozen kids was an amber-haired 8-year old girl who resembled a woman who’d given-up her life… Bo walked closer to the group, without being conspicuous. There were 6-adults and 22-children. He greeted them, speaking with the adults for several-minutes, observing the group, then bidding ‘goodbye‘. Leaving behind, in an engaging young and happy-girl who represented the final-plot to a murder…
As he read that night in that small town‘s regional-paper having the region’s events, also told of the college speech by a not very well-known, agronomist who happened to be a native-Canadian and member of a nature-club Bible Dioceses. Susan had taken such care in diligence to friend’s lasting memory in a bible that read: ‘The Catholic Ecumenical Naturist Group‘. Of which Sol C. Worthington, was delineated as ‘a leader‘. Once a student of his, while registered at UNLV, he’d given a presentation about crop-theories and principles. Many of his ideas where popular, at the time but now twenty-eight years later he was now the ‘prime-suspect‘, in a murder. Bo rode onto the University auditorium’s parking-lot which was filled. …Final-confirmation came at the ‘simplest’ but symbolic-instance. Bo realized Sheila was involved with someone who’d given her more than Susan ever could: “a baby”… Bo knew that picture was her-child, she probably loved her but was outside the right so many mother’s had. She was pregnant by a man while on sabbatical, Susan said she was gone for almost a year, 8 years ago but came back, when she wrote her friend letters of her-travels away from home. She was alone relationship wise… Susan probably, fed her right to seek fulfillment. While a-way she was having a relationship with a married-man, one that shared an act of love would end, and Sheila would have to make a big-decision, which would lead to her last act-of-love that would cost her-life.
He-entered the lot, the area was filled with cars. Worthington, had gained much notoriety but this being an indolent admissive. Jon went-in through the back-entry were he could seem less noticed, on-stage was the speaking-group. They, had just began to finish up, as it was late when the crowd was now leaving. Bo was approaching from the East aisle where students left after their purpose for being there listening to the creditable-commendations. A man dressed-in a powder-blue, polyester-suit tall and well groomed. He was paying-attention to his-audience when Bo drew closer. Then his target must have caught-sight of a ‘coming‘-contention. When Bo-looked again he was gone, then he saw a flash of blue leave the North area. There was no time to waste, Bo moved swiftly and with agility. He was out the exit to see him in a far-off lot-division, he could see him rushing toward a car. He went from a rushing-
pace to run. He arrived in time that the man could not escape without confronting him. He moved-fast to the back of his vehicle Bo recognized he was arming-himself… Bo knew he was in a deadly situation. Three shots rang-out Bo had fell to the ground and pulled a leg holstered snub nose .357 magnum, the man, lay dead-face down.
***
Susan Partridge was annulled of the crime, after the story of the murderer was found-out. Susan was thrown an appreciation-party by the museum, and she had found a new-friend... Jessica Sheila Worthington, was there through the consent of the Canadian ruling-Diocese, for what Susan had been through. Balloons flew in remembrance. “…Seems like things are turning out for the better, Susan”, said Bo. “Yes, I believe they are…I believe they are…” Said Sue, holding tightly, Jesse in a lasting loving-embrace…
The End