Somewhere in the desert, 1570... A column of hot dust arose behind the men on horseback.

They were ten men in line abreast. They also wore the armor of the conquistador, those Spanish warriors who had for so many years hunted for gold, silver, and other precious items to return with them to their homeland for increased rank and prestige. These men were no different; however, they were being pursued. These ten men were all that remained of over two hundred. The rest had fallen in battle; they were the last of those men to hide what they had taken from these indigenous peoples and who could come back at a later time to recover. There were three large chests full of gold, silver and jewelry made of precious stones and several smaller ones filled with gold coins. Their value to these men was immense; hence the urgency of their mission. They wanted to bury their treasure and return when it was safe from attack. When they could do this they did not know. This land was rugged, and the air stifling. The sun above burned down upon their armor, and their skin shone as brightly as their accoutrements did from sweating profusely under their garments. These were a hearty breed, but even the best

would fall in these temperatures after some time. The leader, Captain Jose Philippe Sanchez, finally called a halt. He raised his right arm, and soon the rest stopped, the dust slowly settling between their mounts. How much further? he asked his lieutenant, Jiminez. Not much now, sir, he answered quickly. The cave we spotted before should be upon us before too long. It better be, Sanchez growled irritably. This damn heat was getting to him. The men were exhausted, and perhaps a bit disheartened after traveling for several days in this inferno. The dust was everywhere, for there was no rainfall that occurred here. It got into the nostrils, the clothes, drying everything out and leaving a bitter taste in ones mouth. Hopefully soon they would be at the end of their journey. Retrasar, amigos, the Captain said, his voice cracking with thirst, take one sip of water out of your canteens, then we continue on. As one, the men did as their captain ordered, more out of necessity than for obeying a simple command. They were tired and thirsty, ready to get out of this blazing

furnace and back to their homeland, where they would be regarded as heroes once they retrieved their ill-gotten gains. They continued on, skirting some scrub brush and following alongside a dry creek bed. The bottom of the bed was rocky and hence too much for their mounts; however, their guide Jiminez was looking for a smooth spot he had seen on an earlier patrol where they could cross and reach the far bank. The creek bed was fairly narrow, only about ten feet across at its widest. The slope on this side was steep with a five foot drop. Soon he saw what he was looking for. The bank dropped and the stream bed had a smooth, sandy bottom. Here they would cross, and another hour or so ride and they would be at their destination. This last hour would be the most difficult; they were at the base of a mountain, and slowly started their ascent. The trail was rocky, with scrub dotting the landscape here and there. The dust swirled around their mounts legs, leaving the men at the end of the line

coughing and wheezing. They put cloths around their noses and mouths to filter out the worst of it, but some eventually got through, causing them to hack and cough at times. Soon they arrived on a small plateau, with some shade trees and a small, bubbling pool of cold, clear water that drained down from the mountaintop. The Captain ordered a halt; the men wearily dismounted, and set about watering their mounts and filling their water bags. Two men started gathering firewood for cooking dinner. The portly lieutenant Jiminez walked over to his superior officer, and took the reins of his horse. Captain Sanchez surveyed their surroundings. Above him the mountain towered, with a gradual slope at the bottom but getting progressively steeper with every foot. Scrub pine and aspens dotted the landscape, giving it an eerily haunted look. He took his helmet off, and wiped the sweat off his brow with a large bandanna tucked into a side pocket. A few more days, he thought, and then we can go back to the ship, and await reinforcements. Then back to this hellhole to regain the treasure they had stolen from the savages. A

kings ransom in gold, silver, and precious stones that would earn him a respected place in society once they returned to Spain. Now, however, they had to make sure that it remained hidden until they came back for it, if they came back. They were being pursued, and might not make it back to their ship and homeland. They might succumb to the ferocious heat of this land, their bones bleaching in the sand and rocks forever and ever. How many of the savages were chasing them, he knew not. But one thing was for sure; out of his original two hundred men, he now had only ten left. The massacre took place several days ago, and he wouldnt believe it if he hadnt saw it with his own two eyes. Blood and gore, the savagery of these people of the land, was unlike anything he had come up against before. He survived numerous battles on the sea, but on land the viciousness of the attack stunned even him, a hard-bitten professional soldier in the service of his King. They needed to get this treasure hidden, and fast before they too were massacred like the rest. The sun was low in the western sky when Jiminez reported back to his superior. Horses and men accounted for, sir, he stated correctly. He knew it was useless information he was telling his captain, but it kept his mind off what troubles possibly

laid ahead of them all. Very well then, said the Captain. Make sure everyone beds down early. I want two sentries posted over there on that rock outcropping, and two more to walk through camp tonight. Make sure they get their rest, because tomorrow might be our last day on this earth, Lieutenant. Yes, sir, answered the lieutenant, and went about giving the proper orders. They did not need to be surprised while asleep if the massed savages attacked during the night. Although their rifles would hold them off for awhile, it would only be a temporary respite for the slaughter that was sure to follow once their ammunition was used up. Captain Sanchez reached into one of his saddlebags, and drew out a bottle of tequila that he had kept on hand. He unscrewed the cap, and took a long swallow of the fiery liquid, feeling it burn all the way down. He knew that drinking the alcohol would not help curb the gnawing fear in his belly, but he might not be alive tomorrow to enjoy it more.

He went and sat down by a small campfire two of the men had built, and took another sip from his bottle. The savages called this firewater, and with good reason. It burned ones throat going down. But it also turned a man into a crazy person when enough had been imbibed into his system. Getting drunk at this critical time would be suicide. He capped the bottle, and put it back in his saddlebags. One of the men was heating up some beans while another was making flour tortillas. Good, he thought to himself, keeping themselves busy and getting things done. These were good men, he thought, too good to die out here in this hellish land. Soon their dinner was done, complete with a pot of steaming coffee. Sanchez always made sure the men ate before he did, for he needed their strength and energy in the days to come. Once they were taken care of, then he would sit down and eat his supper. Once done eating, he made sure the sentries had been posted and sat down again to roll a cigarette. Smoking gave him time to think, to reflect, and to plan their next move. It would obviously being getting to that cave in one piece that his scouts had found,

and then burying the treasure. He also made sure he made a notation on his map to make sure they could get back here when the time was right. Otherwise, this was all just a complete waste of time. The sun was down below the hills by now, and a few of the men decided to lay out their sleeping packs and rest. They would need all their energy for tomorrow, thought Sanchez. Tomorrow would be the day of the showdown. He firmly believed that in his guts. They would barely have time to bury their goods and would then have to take up defensive positions for the slaughter that was soon to follow. He knew, as his men did too, that their fate was already sealed. But they didnt show it. They would go down as heroes, and probably die trying. Some said that dying was the end of everything; yet others said that it was a new beginning. Whatever the outcome, they would soon find out..

Chapter 2

The town of Borderland was aptly named. Surrounded by the land known as Death Valley on the northwest side and by the Mojave Desert on the southeast, it was the last outpost one came to before the California Territories. This town was nothing special; a saloon, livery, general store, barbershop, doctors office and plenty of dust and sagebrush to go around. And it was hot. Rumor had it that a man could just sit on the boardwalk, hold a frying pan with an egg in the sun, and it would cook in three minutes. The rainfall in this part of the state was negligible; hence the desert terrain. Here a man wouldnt last three days out in the blistering sunshine, even less if he had no water with him. They say the sun would fry your brain, and make you see things that werent there. The town had an unofficial nickname: Gateway to Hell. The man who rode slowly into town looked like hed been through the fiery pits. His face was cut up, his clothes in tatters. A few people stared at the stranger, but he ignored them like they didnt exist. His name was Tom Crockett, and he was by trade a miner. Short in stature, he looked like someone who wouldnt catch much attention in a crowd. He had a shock of red hair,

a stubbly beard, and an education. He attended college on the East coast when he lived there, and came west to seek his fortune. Unfortunately, the life he imagined hadnt quite lived up to the hype. He stopped his horse in front of the saloon and got off. He almost fell, but caught himself at the last second, and took his hat off and brushed the dust off himself. He took a deep breath, and walked unsteadily up to the swinging doors and walked in. He ambled up to the bar, and said one word to the barkeeper. Whiskey, he said, and ignored the stare of the man. He took the shot glass, watched him fill it, then downed it in one quick gulp. One more, and downed that one too. How much for the bottle? He paid for his drinks and moved towards a table in the saloon to where he could keep an eye on the door. He sat heavily, wearily, and poured himself a third drink. Goddam, said a heavyset man sitting at the end of the bar. Son, you look like you took on the Clantons and Earps all by yourself. Mind your own affairs, answered Tom angrily. He was in no mood for any

nonsense. His body hurt, and his neck was rubbed raw by the rope that damn near hung him. God, that was a close one, he thought to himself. He tilted his head to down the third swig, and watched as the plump man walked over to his table and introduced himself. Names Matt, and just tryin to be friendly, stranger. Dont need no friends. Tom put the glass down on the table, and sat back with a heavy sigh. Id buy you a drink partner, but you look like youre all set with that bottle, Matt said. He sat down without being invited, and was given a dirty look for his effort. Look, mister, aint tryin to be a nosey feller, but you seriously need the attention of ol Doc Wallace. Hes a good man, hell fix you up quicker n split. Sorry for bein so rude, said Tom apologetically. Had a rough spell out there in the mountains. Ran into some real troublemakers. Damn near didnt escape. Bastards tried to hang my ass, but I got away. They jumped my grubstake out there in the mountains, and as soon as I feel up to it, Im gonna go grab back whats mine, fair and square! Sorry to hear about your troubles, son, said the fat man. Seems to be a lot of that in these parts.

I will get my claim back, he retorted, downing another shot of whiskey. He decided that he should get some rest and heal some, to make sure that he was up to the battle ahead of him. Those rustlers and claim-jumpers werent going to just hand over his stake. He walked back over to the bar, and asked the barkeep about renting a room. Sure son, just two dollars a night, he stated. Tom paid the man, got his room key, and headed up the stairs with his bottle and shot glass in hand. The fat man decided it was time he headed home himself, and exited the saloon. He found his assigned room and unlocked the door. It was simple and sparse, with a bed, night table with a washbasin, and a window that opened up into the street below. He looked out, and saw a few people milling about, going about their business. Across the street were the Sheriffs office and a general store. He looked to his right and saw the doctors office. He thought that maybe the fat man had been right, maybe he did need to see the man and get patched up. He sure as hell felt sore enough for what hed just been through.

He put the bottle and shot glass down on the night table and laid in the bed. It groaned and creaked but was surprisingly comfortable. He closed his eyes, and in his minds eye saw his mine, beckoning him to dig deeper and deeper for its treasures that had not yet been found. He imagined himself finding the mother lode, that big stake that all miners dream about. Soon he was fast asleep, the whiskey taking over his mind, and relaxing him into a black abyss. Suddenly, two shots rang out, waking him. He rolled off the bed, and took a peek out the window. Three men on horseback were outside, with one waving a rifle. He looked closer and saw that they were from the same group who had ambushed him earlier. Holy crap, he thought to himself, they are here to finish me off! He was wide awake now, the whiskey-induced nap totally forgotten. He cursed himself for leaving his rifle in its scabbard on the horse. Goddam! How the hell was he going to get out of this one? He stayed put, and thought that maybe they would mosey on out after having a few drinks.

He just hoped that the barkeep would keep his mouth shut.

He got up and locked the door. Quietly, he tip-toed back to the bed, hoping to avoid the creaky boards that might give him away. Downstairs, he could hear the men enter the saloon, and the heavy clump of their boots matched the thumping in his chest. He could hear their voices, but not what they were saying. Had to do with him, he guessed. Well, maybe theyll just have a few drinks and leave. Wishful thinking, partner. He looked for a quick getaway out the window. About all he saw was a twelve foot drop to the dusty street below. Well, I guess I could handle that, he thought to himself. Running away had never been his strong suit, but his survival instincts kicked in and he decided to save it for later. It didnt take long for one to get himself killed nowadays. A look, a wrong move, and it was Boot Hill for you, Jack. A clatter arose outside, and a buckboard with two horses pulled up to a stop in front of the general store in a cloud of dust. A single man was on it, and as it stopped he jumped off and walked into the store. Apparently the commotion disturbed the three banditos, for

they walked outside to see what was causing all the ruckus. Nows my chance, thought Tom. He got up, unlocked the door, and snuck into the hallway. He looked downstairs at the barkeeper whod noticed him and put his finger to his mouth. The man nodded in understanding and he slowly crept to the edge of the stairs. He was watching the doorway, and nearly fell when his foot missed one of the steps. He reached the bottom, and crept over towards the piano, where quite literally he would be up against the wall. He kept his eyes on the entrance, waiting for the three men to come back into the saloon. Deke Harrington was as bad as they came. He was lower than a snakes belly. Standing six feet tall, he was as mean and ornery as a cornered bear. He had a nasty looking scar on his forehead from when he fell off a horse when he was younger, and many surmised that this was the reason he was so temperamental. His father also owned half the town, and he grew up quite spoiled. The other two men with him were Mexican bandits hired out for their gun slinging abilities. Between the two of them they had killed a rumored fifteen men. Tom didnt want to be number sixteen.

He knew he was in over his head. These bad hombres were out to kill him, and make sure he didnt live long enough to return to his claim up in the hills. His heart was pumping so hard he thought it would burst, and he could almost feel the barrel of that rifle against his head. Deke walked in, followed by his two hired hands. Here it comes, thought Tom . Deke spotted him in the corner, started laughing, and walked up to the bar. Well, well, well, he snorted. Look who we have here, fellas. The two other men looked at Tom, and an evil grin came across their faces. He swallowed hard, because the odds were way against him in this foray. His throat felt dust dry, and he seriously needed a drink. He gathered himself up, and walked to the bar, ordering a shot of whiskey. Hello, Deke, he said. I knew Id run into you again sooner or later. That lynching stunt you tried to pull on me isnt going to work this time. He swallowed his drink in one gulp, and both men continued to stare at each other. Just then the sheriff walked in, followed by his deputy. Now Deke, he said, we dont need no trouble now do we? Sheriff, he nodded in greeting. Wes just havin a little fun is all. Go have fun out in the hills, son. We dont need this stuff here. Im sure your daddy would agree. Do I need to have a talk with him again?

No sir, you dont. Then Deke looked back at Tom with an evil scowl on his face. This isnt over punk. Not by a long shot. He finished his drink, slammed the shot glass down on the polished bar, and walked out, his two hired hands following close behind. You sure picked some rattlesnakes to play with, the Sheriff admonished Lefty. They jumped me out in the hills up yonder, Sheriff, and stole my claim. I aim to get back whats mine. Youd be wiser to just leave a dead horse lie, son. Those men arent worth your life, he said sincerely. Find yourself another claim and you might live to see your next birthday. Your advice is noted, Sheriff. Ill keep that in mind. Tom paid for his drink, and walked out onto the board walk. The three men were long gone. All that was left of them was a slowly settling dust trail as they headed back out of town. Probably going back to my claim, thought Tom. Ill get even with you someday. For now though, he walked over to the doctors office. His boots raised small whorls of dust as he went along, and soon he was at the door. He opened it, and a small bell rang as the door hit it, signaling his entrance. He walked up to the counter, and soon a genial looking older man came through a doorway that was curtained off. Must be his

workroom, he thought. How can I help you? the old gentleman asked. His hair was white as snow, and the glasses on his nose had a bit of the street dust on them. He was shorter than Tom, and a little plump around the middle. How do you do, said Tom. I was told youre a good doctor, and dont ask no questions. Well, he chortled. Ive seen a lot and been through more. I know when to talk and when to keep things to myself, and right now it seems that you need some medical attention and no stupid questions. Id be obliged, said Tom. I just need to heal some to retake my claim up in the mountains. A miner, huh? answered the doctor. Weve seen plenty of those around here. Most dont stay long though. They all walk around with gold dust in their eyes and when their stake doesnt play out, theyre gone. Well, I plan on staying awhile, if its all the same to you, said Tom. Alright, son. Now lets see what we can do about those cuts and that nasty welt on your neck. The doctor worked quickly, applying a salve to his neck where the rope had burned him, and cleaned and dressed the cuts on his face. Tom winced as the antiseptic

touched his face, but let the doctor do his work. Soon he was taken care of, and grunted ever so slightly as he got off the table. Seems you have some sore ribs too, said the doctor. Ill be okay, said Tom. Son, while youre here, you might as well let me take a look. You might have some broken ribs. He realized arguing with the man would be useless, and unbuttoned his shirt. A series of nasty black and blue marks on his ribcage told the doctor all he needed to know. He walked over to his supply cabinet, grabbed a roll of gauze, and began to gently wrap it around Toms torso. The doctor finished with the wrapping, and put some tape on the end of it to hold it together. There you are, he told him, now just lay off and take it easy for a few days, OK? Okay, doc, and thanks, said Tom. He got back up, wincing a little at the tightness of the gauze. How much I owe you? Two dollars, he said. Just take it easy for a few days, like I said. Yes sir, I will, and thanks again.

He buttoned his shirt back up and went out the door, closing it behind him. It was going to be another hot day, he thought. The sun was high in the sky and off in the distance a dust devil swirled amongst the scrub and rock outcroppings. He crossed the street back to the saloon, and went up to the bar. He was the only customer at the time, so he decided to make some small talk. So whats the news around here? he asked the bartender. Curiosity got the better of him and since he was going to be off for a couple of days, he figured catching up on all the local gossip couldnt hurt. Well, the barkeeper drawled, not much actually. But theres a legend about the mountains, something that drives men so crazy with greed that they never return. Whats that? Tom inquired, his interest piqued now. Whenever possible treasure or gold was mentioned, his heart started beating faster. Rumor has it, the bartender continued, that there is a treasure somewhere up there, worth millions some say, left over from when the Spaniards were here some 300 years ago. Really? asked Tom. How many men have disappeared lookin for it? Oh, about two dozen that I know of, the barkeep stated. Greed has more influence

on a man than good old common sense. Last one disappeared about three years ago, and the only things found were his horse and pack. Never heard from him again. Well, that is a story now, isnt it? What, some kind of ghosts or something up there? Superstition is a mighty strong thing in these parts, he added. The local folk avoid the path into the mountains like the plague. Sounds like something or someone trying to keep a secret, Tom said. Maybe in a couple of days Ill take a shot at it. I wouldnt if I were you, son, he warned. You might not come back at all. Dont matter none anyway. I dont have any family left, and I just might get rich in the long run. Well, its your choice, but thought Id at least let ya know. Thanks for the advice, but I think Ill give it a shot anyways. Is there just that one path into the canyon that takes you up there? As far as I know it is, he answered. Just be careful, son. There's some mighty mean varmints out there in them hills, and some of 'em have two legs!

Chapter 3 Two days later, Tom felt much better. The cuts on his face had started to heal, and his ribs werent as sore as they had been. He got out of bed, and the sun shone brightly through the window. Hed decided to take a bath while he was here, eat some

breakfast, then head out into the canyon to start his search. He ate a hearty meal consisting of biscuits, bacon, some eggs and hot coffee. After he ate and paid for his meal he walked across the street to the general store to gather some supplies with what money he had left. He bought a new knapsack to replace his old one, some beans, tobacco, eating utensils, and a new tin cup. He didnt have much money left, so he had to make do with what he had. Hopefully, hed find something up there in the mountains to supplement his income, whether it be gold or some other precious metal. Finally, he went and got his horse out of the livery, loaded everything in his saddlebags, and mounted his trusty steed. He headed west out of town, in the heat of the midday sun and with dust swirling around the horses legs. The clop pity clop of the horse soon made him weary, and he had to slap himself to keep awake. Falling asleep out here would be a death sentence. Slowly he made his way down the path towards the canyon entrance. The bartender had told him that once inside, there was a small river that flowed to where he could

water his horse and let it rest for a little while. When he got there he found it had dried up some, looking like a tiny creek rather than a river. No matter, it was plenty for the horse to drink and cool off with. He checked his map while the horse was drinking. Nothing but desert and scrub the way hed come from town, which was about 5 miles away. The canyon narrowed further on down, then finally ended with a gentle but rocky slope. He put his map away and started moving deep into the canyon itself. There were a few boulders strewn here and there, but otherwise easy footing for the horse. Damn, it was hot, he thought to himself. He wiped the sweat out of his eyes with his bandanna and eyed his surroundings. The canyon rose steeply on either side of him, ending about forty or fifty feet above his head, he estimated. No way to scale those sides without any rope. The path he was on ended shortly, but he could still pick his way through the rocky scrub that was prevalent around here. He figured he had about two more hours before the sun set, and

continued on. Foot by foot did the canyon walls narrow, until finally near the end he could see the small up slope. Here it was barely wide enough for two head of steer to get through. He reined in his mount, then they headed up the slope. Another hundred feet or so and they reached a small plateau. The mountain rose in front of him and while the sun was still up, he surveyed his surroundings. To the left, the canyon continued on down a very steep grade. If they were moving in darkness, he surely would have fallen over the edge, horse and all. There wasnt much room up here, but they were okay as long as daylight was around. Straight ahead, a worn trail, one that hadnt been used in awhile, was just visible in the rays of the setting sun. He decided to keep going, to get as far as possible while the light of day was still with him. Soon it narrowed considerably, however, and he had to dismount and walk his horse up the further he went. The trail was fairly straight for a good distance, but then started to

wind like a snake, curling one way then the other. Off to his right, where the mountainous terrain was steepest, were several scrub pines barely holding their own on the rocky outcrop. To his left was a more gentle rise, with poplars and more scrub pine rising out of the hard, unyielding soil. He was getting tired. He thought he shouldve waited another day or so for his ribs to heal, but the thought of unseen riches made up his mind for him. He would do his damnedest to find that lost Spanish treasure or die trying. Many before him had done exactly what he was now doing, and had paid for it with their lives. He didnt plan on dying, however. He was going to find that treasure come hell or high water. His chest was really starting to hurt now. His breath came in painful gasps with the exertion of climbing all day long. He found a rather flat spot under some pine and maple trees and decided to call it a night. Hed trekked well over 8 miles today, and a quarter of that was climbing this damn mountain. His horse was in need of rest as well. No sense pushing it, he thought. Tomorrows another day. He took the saddle and bags off his mount, and tied the horse to a maple tree next to a

small pool of water so he could drink his fill and rest. He put the saddle on the ground then opened up his saddlebags. He took a can of beans out and started to gather some wood for a small campfire to make himself some supper and maybe even a decent cup of coffee. He had a flask of whiskey in there to help him forget about his ribs. Soon he had a nice little fire going. The flames crackled and a soft wind blew the smoke gently away from him. His beans were heating up nicely and the water was soon bubbling. He poured some dried beans in his tin cup and with the water, had a cup of hot coffee ready-made. He ate, then rinsed his utensils in the little pool. Soon his fire was down to embers, and he laid down on his blanket and saddlebags and took a couple of sips of whiskey to finish off a long day. Tomorrow would be longer, he thought. He was soon asleep, snoring gently amongst the trees and chirping of the night creatures.

Daybreak came early. He rose, washed his face off in the small pool, and put the saddle back on the horse, followed by his bags. He filled his cup with water to make sure the coals were out for good and began his long journey up the mountain once

again. The sun was just cresting the eastern peak and a gentle wind sighed through the brush tops, creating a coolness which was refreshing to him. It would be a good day, he thought. He looked back down the trail he'd come and decided hed have to cover some ground while his ribs werent bothering him. The further up he went, the more scarce the vegetation. He walked the last few feet of the trail into a small meadow, with wildflowers and grass being gently withered over with the cool mountain breeze. Large puffy clouds had started to form in the sky, some crossing in front of the sun to create a cool shadow effect. Here a small stream cascaded down from the cliff above into a little creek where he led his horse to drink. The barkeep told him to expect a fork in the trail coming up shortly. The horse drank its fill, and he filled up his canteen. Water was definitely a must to survive in this hot wilderness, whether for man or beast. A day without water in this rugged terrain spelled certain doom. Soon he could see the fork up ahead. The right path looked easier to travel than the left, so he decided hed take a look-see and judge for himself. He didnt get fifty feet and

had to turn back. The trail ended in a steep crevasse in which hed never be able to cross, especially with no rope. Disappointed, he turned back around and headed back to the meadow to take the left fork like the bartender said. It was getting close to midday when he heard the rocks falling. He looked up to his right, and with a small sense of relief saw a mountain goat staring back at him. He continued on and hoped that no one else was up here. He damn sure didnt need a repeat of what happened to him before at his other claim. He hoped that this, if the legend were true, would be his last foray into exploring for gold, silver, or what have you. He wanted enough to buy himself a nice piece of land to work, and to lead a comfortable existence. Several hours passed while he entertained his thoughts. He seemed to have made some ground today. By this time, the sun was getting pretty low in the sky. Hed decided to camp in a small hollow in the cliff face, and rest up for what hed hoped would be the final push tomorrow. Then he hoped he would find the cave entrance, and this was supposedly in the area of where the lost treasure was buried. An old abandoned mineshaft, he asked himself, or what? That would be one reason the treasure-seekers before him hadnt returned.

They damn sure wouldnt crawl out of one if it were deep enough. And if water had been seeping in, which was very likely, they would surely have drowned. Once a body fell down there, hope was useless unless one had a reliable partner and plenty of rope. He decided to drink some more of the whiskey. His ribs were throbbing with the days efforts, and as he drank and watched the flames in the small fire he made flicker in the gentle breeze, he remembered the family he had, a long time ago. Especially his sister, Stephanie. She would always stand up to their father on his behalf, to lessen the impact of the lashings that were sure to come to an adolescent young boy. Shed been more of a best friend than a sister. They did everything together. They played, swam, and she taught him to read. He wished she was still alive to share what bounty may come his way. By god, he sure missed her. Soon tears of regret filled his eyes, and he angrily wiped them away, cursing his foolishness for his lack of selfcontrol. But I sure do miss you, Sis, he said to no one in particular. She had wanted to attend Cambridge, in England to become a doctor. Female doctors were a rarity in these days, but that was what she had wanted to do. Always trying to help

others before herself. She was one of those good souls in which there never seems to be enough of. Unfortunately, the weather had no ill will against the good nor bad. They were treated as equals, and the ship that her and their parents had taken sailed smack dab into the middle of a hurricane. It sunk with all hands, and the only thing found was a plank with a piece of white cloth attached to it that had washed ashore some weeks later. Tom then decided to head West to seek out his fortune or whatever else life had in store for him. He was then a young man of 17, and the disaster happened five years ago. Five long years of bitterness and anger over the senseless death of his family, but there was nothing he could have done to help avert it, except maybe try and talk them out of it. But Stephanie was determined to do what she wanted, no matter what. He soon fell sound asleep, the effects of the whiskey and crackling fire lulling him into a deep black abyss in which all time stopped, in which memories no longer had meaning, and in which the pain finally relaxed its tight grip on him.

The rain woke him up, cold and wet upon his face. It was refreshing in its moisture. Wide awake now, Tom got himself up off the ground and put the saddlebags back on the horse. No sense in making a fire for coffee now, he mused, the rain dripping down off his hat. Have to wait until I reach the cave. He mounted his horse, and together they rode off on the trail up the mountain, winding between towering cliffs and deep chasms. Their pace was deliberately slow, not only because of the dampness, but also the trail narrowed considerably the further on they went. The valley below was fogged in, low-lying clouds flitting between canyon walls to where he could not see the bottom. Just as well, he thought, I hate heights. But he thought again about the so-called treasure, and could only dream of what the Spaniards had left behind. Soon, he thought, very soon. Suddenly, the horse started to neigh and jump. He looked down and spotted a four foot rattler about to strike. He grabbed his rifle out of its scabbard, and pumped a quick shot into the reptile, cutting it almost in half. The snake twitched in its death throes,

clearly not a menace now. For the next couple of hours everything was smooth as whiskey. He got off the horse again to give the animal a break, and slowly trudged up the ever-steepening slope. It was also beginning to get rocky. A keen eye and sure foot would be needed now if he was to succeed in reaching the cave entrance. He came round a bend in the path, past a boulder the size of his horse and there it was, a narrow opening into the side of the mountain. Hed found it, and made it alive. Half the battle was over, he thought. Now I just got to find this treasure. He stopped the horse and dismounted, slowly making his way to the small black hole in the canyon wall. He kneeled down and peeked inside. He noticed that it dropped slightly, but found he could fit in it, albeit on hands and knees. He noticed some tracks and scrape marks in the dirt. Mustve been the last poor bastard up here, he guessed. He got up, tied the horse to a gnarled tree branch that shot up from its rocky

abode, and proceeded to explore his surroundings.

Chapter 4 At least its cooler in here, he thought, noticing that the sun had come back out through the clouds. The rain had stopped half an hour ago, and he was fairly sweating with exertion and excitement at having made it this far in his travels with no problems. Not yet, son, but there will be, his mind said. He took the tobacco pouch out of his saddlebags and rolled himself a smoke. Now I gotta think about how Im gonna go about this, he thought as he sat smoking. He watched the smoke curl up in the air and decided upon his next course of action. If this was a mineshaft, he wouldnt be getting very far. But if it was horizontal, he might have a good shot at finding whatever may lay inside, hidden for so many years. There were cobwebs on the sides of the opening, meaning it hadnt been tampered with for awhile. He finished his smoke and flicked it off to the side. Well, he said, lets see what we have here. He found himself a stick, club-like in appearance, and wrapped several layers of old cloth on one end of it, then set it in the fire hed made earlier. Once it was burning brightly,

he got down on his hands and knees in front of the cave and started in. Holding the improvised torch in front of himself, he slowly made his way deeper and deeper into the cavern. He was starting to sweat again from exertion, and wiped his forehead and eyes with his bandanna, the smoke from the torch burning his eyes. He came upon some rough-hewn timbers, obviously supports on the sides of the tunnel to prevent a cave-in, one of those disasters that miners dreaded along with the possibility of drowning. He paused to catch his breath, and surveyed his surroundings. The tunnel widened out just a little, with timbers every ten feet or so. By now the entrance was just a tiny sliver of light behind him. Suddenly, his hands came upon some planks that were buried with a layer of the fine dust. He coughed once, and then brushed off the wood with a single swipe. Just then, the old rotted planks broke with his weight, and down he tumbled, smacking his head against the sides of the downward tunnel and finally landing with a thump at the bottom. He rubbed his head and cursed himself for not being more careful. His torch fell next to him, miraculously still alight. He picked it up, brushed himself

off, and winced at the new pains in his abdomen. He probably had re-broken his ribs with the fall. This series of tunnels were wider and higher, and appeared to have been undisturbed for many years. It was cooler down here, and he now had to figure out how he was going to get himself out of this mess. He had no rope, and the torch was his only companion. Goddam, he thought disgustedly, this is just perfect! He looked up, and saw that the opening above his head was just out of reach. He estimated it at about 10 feet, although the pain in his sides made it seem like 30. Well, he said, might as well find something to use to crawl up outta this damn hole. He started walking down the tunnel, following its curves with dust from years past swirling around his boots. Soon he came to what he termed a room, plenty of head space for him to stand and stretch and about twenty feet across. He sat and figured out what his next move was. So far there had been no luck in finding some discarded timbers he could

improvise into a ladder to get the hell out of here. He saw that the room branched off into two separate tunnels, and he wasnt making any progress setting on his butt, so he got up and started down the right fork. He got about 60 feet in and it stopped suddenly. He turned around and entered the left tunnel. Being able to see only about five feet ahead of him, and wondering how much longer his torch would last, he picked up the pace. On the ground in front of him appeared a stick, about two inches thick by about five feet long. One end was jagged, like it had been broken on something hard. He picked it up, and continued on. The tunnel wound slowly around in a small arc to his left. It started to narrow a bit, but he found he could still stand. A glint in the sand in front of him caught his eye. He reached down and picked up what looked like a coin, shining a dull yellow in the light of the torch. Holy shit, he thought, I found it! He moved further on down the tunnel, but didnt find anything else to catch his fancy. He examined the coin, and noticed that it wasnt perfectly round. It had what appeared to be an octagonal shape to it, and was thicker in the middle. He pocketed his new-found treasure, then figured he needed

to get out of here one way or another to get back above and explore the rest of the tunnels that might lead him to the treasure. It appeared it existed after all! He turned around, and walked back to the bigger room, then on to where he had fallen through the old wood boards. He looked at the side his head bounced off of, and saw that it was limestone. He used the stick hed found and with the jagged end, started to carve out some hand and foot holds in the soft rock. He scraped until he had some about a foot deep into the wall, then used a piece of planking that had fallen down with him as a step. Soon he had four steps in place, and reached up and pulled himself out of the hole. Okay, he thought, one problem solved. He sat for a few minutes to catch his breath, then started back out of the tunnel towards the entrance. He was about to exit the hole when he heard a single rifle shot impact the edge of the cave. Oh shit, he thought, here we go again! A voice hollered out from somewhere in the light. We know youre in there, punk, and

were fixin to end this little game of yours, once and for all! It was Deke and his hired killers. Well, this is a fine kettle of fish Ive gotten into now, thought Tom, sweat dripping off his brow. How the hell did they know I was out here, he wondered. Well, no time for that. He needed to come up with a good plan, and quick if he wanted to see tomorrow! Tom took a peek out of the cave entrance and was rewarded by another rifle shot, the fragments hitting the side of his face and opening up a couple of old wounds. He quickly pulled his head back inside, wondering how the hell he was going to get out of this one. Three to one werent very good odds; three to one and no rifle was worse still. Stick yer head out again, rabbit! Deke hollered, laughing. Ill get yer sorry ass sooner or later! He looked outside. His horse was still about thirty feet away from the entrance. No chance he would make a quick run for his rifle and make it without getting hit at least once by Dekes desperadoes. He figured that his best chance for survival would be to ambush them inside the tunnels. But how? He had to come up with a plan. He got on his belly and took another quick peek out

of the opening. He could just see a hat off to his left. Must be one of the hired guns, he thought. Off in the distance, almost straight ahead and about thirty feet up, was the black hat of Deke. Another shot and Tom quickly backed up. What the hell do you want? he asked. He had to stall for time, give himself a chance to come up with a workable plan. Your dead ass, and whatever it is yer lookin for up here, came the answer. Another shot broke the silence. Not lookin for anything, Deke, he said, hoping the bluff would work. He was soon disappointed. Bullshit, punk, yer lookin for something up here! Okay, now he was starting to sweat. There was an old saying, that if you cant baffle em with bullshit you dazzle em with brilliance. Hopefully he could come up with something that would outshine the sun. And fast! He crawled back into the tunnel as fast as he could on his hands and knees, careful to skirt the hole that he had made earlier from falling through. He continued on, and the tunnel soon dead-ended with a pile of broken rock and rubble. He started digging with his

bare hands, and was piling rocks up in front of him. Maybe he could dig his way around those bad hombres, he thought. He dug furiously, his fingernails tearing and cracking with his effort. Soon his breath came in heavy gasps from the exertion, and sweat was dripping off his forehead. If only this barricade of rocks would give him some time, he might get out of this alive. He could hear the three of them hollering and shooting into the tunnel itself. Theyre coming in, he told himself. Need to get the hell outta here, and quick! He dug more quickly, his ribs hurting now. He soon got the refreshing cool blast of air that indicated he was through this cave-in. He hurriedly cleared out more rubble, and squeezed his aching body through the hole. He sat off to one side, his breath coming in ragged gasps now, his ribs on fire. He needed a couple of minutes to calm down, to let his body rest. He had the feeling that today was going to be a very long day indeed. He could hear the three men getting closer, then suddenly one of them yelped as they fell down the hole he had fallen down earlier. He started to chuckle, until the seriousness of the moment woke him up. He

gathered up his strength, and got to his feet, following the new tunnel blindly, as he didnt have his torch with him this time. The air was cool, with a kind of dampness to it. He hoped he wouldnt step on a scorpion or snake or something of the kind. He felt his way, then stopped as his hands felt some more of the timbers. He slid them across the wood, wincing as a splinter entered his left hand, but continued, and soon noticed that the tunnel turned to the right. He hoped he wouldnt fall into another trap and drown; that would seriously ruin his day. Another few feet, and the tunnel turned again, this time to the left. About twenty feet and it turned again. Where was this taking him? He wondered what he had got himself into, when he noticed the floor started to slope down just a bit. He continued on, feeling his way like a blind man. His foot kicked something loose. It felt like metal. He stopped and reached down to see what was impeding his progress. He picked up the object, and slowly felt it. A sword! How lucky could a man get? With this he could at least try to defend himself. Not against a gun, but with the element of surprise

in his corner. They didnt know he was armed now. He kept going, the sword in his left hand, his right following the contours of the tunnel. Down he went into the bowels of the earth, slowly and cautiously, foot by foot. His feet soon touched a small pool of water. He could hear the sloshing sounds his boots were making now. Ankle deep. Hopefully it wouldnt get any deeper, he thought. Suddenly his feet felt empty space, and he dropped into the ice-cold water, his heart nearly stopping with the feeling of a thousand knives stabbing him. He bobbed back to the surface, careful not to lose the sword, and spit the water out that he had swallowed before his unexpected swim. He felt around him, and noticed he was at the end of the tunnel. He had no choice but to try underwater. Maybe he would get lucky, and find a way out of this wet cavern. He took a few deep breaths, expelling the carbon dioxide from his lungs, and took one final breath. With that, he dove under water, finding the side of the tunnel again, swimming into another opening. His lungs felt like they were about to burst. He swam for a few more seconds, and he had to

come up. He looked up, and saw a very dim light. He swam towards it, hoping it wasnt St. Peters gate he was swimming to, and burst through into an underground grotto. Air, he thought, precious air! The light came from eerily phosphorescent creatures that were stuck to the walls. It wasnt much, but enough to where he could see the tunnel itself. He had broken through a cavern about five feet high, and noticed another tunnel further off that was half filled with water. Exhausted from his ordeal, he climbed up into the tunnel and laid there for a few minutes. His blood was pumping loud in his ears, his heart thumping like crazy. Need to rest a little, he thought. After a few minutes, he calmed down and listened for anything that would indicate he was being followed. So far so good, he thought. He looked down the new tunnel he was in, and noticed that at the far end the tunnel ended in the same type of limestone that he had carved out earlier to escape. Could this be the other side of that wall? If so, I should be okay. Theyll just figure I fell down a shaft and drowned. Then again, they might not and keep after me. Well, at least he could sit here and rest for a bit. He started to shake from the cold.

He thought about his predicament. What about using the sword? He started to carve into the limestone wall, hoping beyond hope that this led to the other cavern hed fallen into. He dug and dug, and after about ten minutes had a hole a foot high by a foot wide. He kept after it, and soon widened it to accommodate the width of his body. Deeper he went, and soon the tunnel was three feet into the wall. Suddenly he stopped. He had heard something. What was it? Deke and his gang of rowdies? He held his breath, his blood thumping in his body, listening for the faintest sound. There it was again, a faint scratching! Shit, theyre still in there, he thought. Damn! What was he going to do now? There was no way hed make it out alive, even armed with the sword. Hed be dead by the time he stabbed or slashed at one of the outlaws. He stopped digging, and just listened. Hopefully they were too busy yakking to hear him scraping and digging. He could wait it out, but for how long? They could go out for food. He couldnt. Hed be dead by the time he would reach the entrance to the cave. He hoped his horse would be okay, if they hadnt run it off by now. Well, time he had on his hands now. He had no

choice whatsoever. He just had to hope for the best.

Chapter 5 John Peppers rode through the canyon, his left arm in tatters. He held the pommel of his saddle with his right hand, and steadied himself. On either side of him the cliffs rose to tremendous heights; how he got to this place he did not know. He had lost a lot of blood and his mind was wandering. His horse kept plodding through, going forward to where he knew not. The dizziness was getting stronger with the loss of blood, and he knew he had to do something. He stopped the horse and got off, dropping to his knees on the rocky soil and grunting in pain. He got back up, and taking the leather thong that held his bedroll on the horse, untied it. He used that to tie a tourniquet on his arm, lest he bleed to death. A slow rain started to fall, and he needed to seek shelter. Some kind of rock outcropping would work for him, for he wasnt picky. Maybe even a shelter under some brush that had fallen down. He looked around him, and saw nothing but vertical rock. He turned to his left, and thinking he was seeing

an hallucination, walked towards the black hole that showed itself. He soon came upon an overhang, where he could make a small fire and rest. Hopefully hed ridden fast enough to elude his pursuers, although he doubted it. As soon as the rain let up theyd be on him like a hound to a scent, intent on pursuing him until they came across his body. Well, he thought, he wasnt going to let them do that. Theyd have to earn their pay this day. He thought of his predicament. His arm was almost useless, and he had two men hot on his trail, very intent on ending his existence. He needed to rest up a bit to gather his strength, and continue on. He gathered himself under the overhang and set to work. He soon gathered a small amount of firewood, and proceeded to light a fire. It was difficult with the use of his left arm limited, but soon he had a nice small blaze going. He warmed his hands on it, and thought of his next step. What would he do? Wait for the rain to stop? He hoped he didnt pass out from loss of blood. He needed to sleep a bit, but with that posse on his trail he dare not. If they found him they would slice him like a side of bacon. He was amazed that he actually got away in one piece, being injured and all. He watched the fire burn itself into embers, and added a few more sticks. He

needed to get to a town where he could heal and rest up a bit. Unfortunately, Tombstone was at least a day and a half away. With this rain, they wouldnt be able to track him very well, but soon they would be back on his trail, hunting him down like a wounded deer. He unwrapped the bloody mess on his arm and took stock of his wound. It wasnt very deep, but if it wasnt cared for properly, it would fester. He gritted his teeth and poked around it with his knife, finally feeling metal on metal. He tried to pry out the bullet, and gasping in pain, worked it out. His breath came in wracking gulps of air, and the wound started bleeding again. He dug a clean cloth out of his saddlebags and pressed it in place over the bullet hole, slowing the blood flow. He couldnt afford to lose much more. He was already dizzy and nauseous, and that made a man careless. He sat back and took stock of his situation. He was in a small overhang, which sheltered him from the elements. Wisps of smoke rose gently from the fire hed built, and soon he had a pot of water boiling for coffee. The rain started to fall heavier now, with the sound of thunder off in the distance. He slowly poured

himself a cup and sat back to sip it. He needed to figure out a good plan to get out of this one. Riding out of here in this weather would probably be his best way to escape; with the rain, they wouldnt be able to follow his tracks. His horse neighed softly, and he looked over at the buckskin. He was sniffing at the air. They were still on his trail, and he needed to move and find a safer place to heal up. He packed his gear up, and kicked sand into the coals of his fire. He donned his slicker and mounted his horse, nudging it along with a movement of his knees. The horse took to moving and he chanced a quick look behind him. Nothing so far but rain and rock. Maybe he could pull this off. He might make Borderland if the going was just right, and he didn't get killed in the meantime. He plodded along, the hours ticking by. The rain let up a little, then finally stopped. They were in a canyon, with a rocky path. He looked around him, and saw nothing but vertical rock about fifty feet high on either side of him. Some cactus sprouted here and there, absorbing the lifegiving liquid like sponges. He wiped his face off with a handkerchief and kept moving. At this pace he figured theyd be in town by mid-day tomorrow. They were making good progress.

Suddenly there was the crack of a rifle shot. He looked up, and saw two horses standing side by side atop the canyon. He looked to the other side, but saw nothing else. He needed to find a place to hide in, and quick. Another shot kicked up some dust in front of his horse, and he started to buck a little. He calmed him down by stroking his mane, but the horse was clearly spooked. Another shot, and he heard it ricochet off the canyon walls to his right. They were toying with him, baiting him. They wanted to enjoy killing him, to watch him suffer. Getting the horse into a gallop, he spotted a small overhang ahead that he could disappear under. They wouldnt be able to shoot him there, unless they were on the other side of the canyon itself, or in the valley with him. He reached it and got off the horse, grabbing at his rifle as he dismounted. He checked to see if there were rounds in the chamber, and slid the bolt home. He peeked around the top of the overhang, but didnt see anything. Even the two horses he had spotted earlier were gone. Something wasnt right. First they shoot at him, and miss on purpose. He was confused. Now why in the hell would they do that and just up and leave? It smelled of an ambush to him,

and the last thing he wanted now was to be dry-gulched and left for the buzzards. He looked around again cautiously, making sure he wasnt going to get his head shot off. He found a stick laying in the dust and put his hat on it, holding it out from under the shelter. A rifle shot replied immediately. So, he thought, they have me covered. One move, and Im dead. Wonderful. Quickly he opened his saddlebags and dug out the sacks of gold. He would hide it and come back for it later, if there was a later. He dug furiously in the rocky shale, slicing his hands. If they were going to kill him, they would never know where the gold was hidden, and he would make sure of that. He tossed the bags in the hole he had made in the earth, and covered it up, dusting it lightly and putting a diamond-shaped rock on top, completing it. He figured that if he dumped it now, hed be alive later to come back for it. They came down the canyon, rifles blazing. They saw where he was sheltered, and he took aim at the lead rider. A shot rang out, and the man dropped to the canyon floor, his horse riderless. One of the pursuers shot at him, barely missing and chipping a chunk out of the rock behind

him. He fired again, and another rider went down. His luck was holding, but against three more hardened men he would likely die. They reined in suddenly, and stopped, looking at him. He peered at them over the sight of his rifle, and waited. They werent as suicidal as he thought they were. He chambered more rounds into the weapon and continued waiting, watching them. They slowly were forming a semicircle around him, and separating themselves. That way if one was shot down, the other two would have a much better chance of surviving. He was watching them, and suddenly the one in the middle appeared to draw a bead on him. He swung the barrel over and fired. He missed that time. He chambered another round, aimed, and squeezed the trigger. Then his body spun as he was hit in the shoulder. He saw when he looked up that he had gotten the third rider, but one of his partners wound up shooting him in the shoulder, and were watching like buzzards. He needed to think fast, and to shoot even faster. He quickly chambered another round, took careful

aim, and fired. He was too high, for his arm was shaking and his left arm was almost useless. He worked the bolt again, and this time shot the hat off the closer man. He mustve spooked him, for he reined in his horse and started back the way hed come. Okay, fellas, he thought, lets get this over with. His shoulder was hurting, and he felt over with his other hand, and it came back wet with his blood. A prolonged gun battle was the last thing he wanted right now. He watched with amusement as the man hed shot at dismounted and retrieved his hat. By God, that was funny, he thought to himself. Hed have to remember that to tell his grand kids. Thats if he lived long enough. Another rifle shot came at him, again ricocheting off the wall behind him, but closer this time. It wouldnt be long now that theyd get the range right and hit him again, permanently ending his journey. He lifted the rifle up again, sighted down the barrel, took a breath, and squeezed again. The rifle bucked in his hands, and he watched as another horse was left riderless. He quickly chambered another round and took aim at the remaining cowpuncher. The man looked around him, thought better of it, and took off down the canyon, raising dust. He just leaned back, took a deep

breath, and concentrated on stopping the flow of blood before it was too late. Not only did he have his old wound to tend to, which had started to bleed again, but now he was hit in the shoulder. The shell had went clean through, so he wouldnt have to dig it out. He was grateful for that, at least. Trouble was, it was his left shoulder, same side as his arm that had received a bullet earlier. It just wasnt out to be his day. Moving slowly but steadily, he ripped a piece of his shirt off, and stuffed it in the hole. That might at least slow the blood until he could reach town, and that was still several hours away. Maybe now with no pursuers after him he could reach town, get patched up, and relax some. Maybe. He grew weak as he dug up the gold he had hurriedly buried. He put the sacks back in his saddlebags and mounted up. The horse turned back towards the mouth of the canyon, and he pointed it back in the direction he was originally headed. He was tall and thin, but with a husky build. He needed a shave, and a new hat wouldnt hurt either. Hed spent his life punching cows and riding the range. His dark hair clung to his scalp from sweating,

and he had a fine coating of dust all over. He was a man that wasnt weak, for hed ridden the desert before, and knew its dangers. But he sure picked the wrong man to tangle with when it came to Bud Lamont. Bud Lamont was a mean, ornery, rattlesnake of a man. There were rumors he had shot a man simply because he beat him in a card game. He accused the man of cheating, and it was clear he hadnt. But because of his swollen ego, he shot the man dead, and was run out of a Colorado mining town for his trouble, with the population on his heels ready for a lynching. Bud Lamont made his money the old-fashioned way: he stole it. When he wasnt robbing stagecoaches and stealing their strongboxes, he was holding up banks. He had held up over five banks in the past two years, and so far had evaded the law. But when someone robbed from him, it was a different story. And the man that did that knew first hand what he would do to get his money back. He was the man that was now bleeding from two different bullet wounds for his trouble. Lamont had ripped him off in a card game in Denver, and he aimed to get even. Well, now, he did get even. However, he wasnt scot-free yet. He still had about

twenty-five miles to go to reach Sweetwater, and he was weak. He hadnt eaten anything since that morning, and the shootout with Lamonts hired hands wore him out. It was all he had to keep from falling asleep and falling out of the saddle. He glanced around him, and saw a few dunes off to his right, with some scrub brush growing up out of the hot sand. The sun was high in the sky, and the air had a dry, dusty smell to it. He would need to find somewhere to spend the night, and somewhere to water his horse. The old buckskin had made up some miles today, and needed a rest real bad. He didnt want to abuse it, because walking was the only alternative, and a man wouldnt survive out here, especially with very little water. He soon found the shade of a mesa to camp for the night. It was rocky, but would be easily defended. He had the mesa to his back, and many big boulders spread out, with numerous smaller ones littering the desert floor. He stopped his horse, and wearily dropped out of the saddle. Little dust puffs arose when his boots hit the sand. He needed rest, bad. He also needed to eat something to build up his

strength. He dug in one saddlebag, and produced some jerky. He took a sip of water out of his canteen, and breathed deeply. He still was in a mess, but it was getting better and better with each passing hour. If only he he had his partner along, he thought. If only Tom was around.....

Chapter 6 Unfortunately, Tom had troubles of his own to deal with. Laying in his hollowed-out tunnel gave him some time to think. His body ached, his ribs hurt, and he was exhausted. How the hell did he ever get in this mess? Being a stranger, thats how. Strangers werent very welcome in these parts. Especially ones that the locals thought might stir up some trouble. He was minding his own business; he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The noises on the other side of the wall subsided, and he waited a few more minutes to make sure. Then he started digging again with the sword, inch by inch, carving himself closer to freedom. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, his blade punched through the wall. A thin sliver of light shone into his eyes. His hopes rose; he was back in the tunnel he fell into earlier. He stopped digging, listening to see if anything stirred on the other side. Nothing. He dug some more, and finally broke free. He poked his head out and

looked up. The smiling face of Deke was looking down upon him from above. Hello there pardner, he sneered. Then he motioned with the six-gun in his hand. Out, punk. Were gonna finish this right quick. Tom pulled himself the rest of the way out of the limestone wall and stood up. His body hurt something fierce. He was in trouble if they found the coin in his pocket, if it was indeed a gold coin. He knew then that the jig was up if that were discovered. What you doin up here, pardner? Deke asked again. Lookin fer some more treasure to steal from me, I suppose? Im not the thief, you are. Tom made a pitiful show of defiance. He knew his time was almost up for this earth. He just hoped it would be a quick death, not a lingering one that would take him days to die. Always a smartaleck too, Deke retorted. Whats in these hills is mine, whether my daddys name is on it or not. And the sooner you get used to that, the better. Tom hung his head in desperation. He had to do something. Within his very soul suddenly surged an inhuman rage, what they call seeing red. He shoved up as hard as he could with the sword, and Deke fired. It was the last shot his left hand would ever make. The sword lunged straight through his hand, and the gun dropped into the sand at

Toms feet. He picked it up, and charged down the tunnel into the roomy cavern he discovered earlier, with Dekes screams echoing behind him. The two hired Mexicans jumped down into the tunnel, following him. He swiftly bypassed the roomy interior and chose the left tunnel, where he would have some cover in the slight arc of its turn. He reached it, then dropped flat on the sand. He could hear the Mexicans coming. He figured that one each would take a tunnel. Sure as hell, one came barreling down his tunnel. He fired the gun; he hit the man in the shoulder. There was another cry of pain and surprise, and Tom got up, intending to finish him off. He walked up to the man and kicked him in the face. With a bloody explosion the mans nose broke, and his whimpering moans echoed around the cavern. He walked past the man and went looking for his partner. He peeked around the corner of the tunnel he was in to see if the man was out or not yet. Nope. Good, give me time to corner him, he told himself. The man emerged from the tunnel, and with a surprised look on his face, a small hole

appeared in his forehead, and he just slumped soundlessly to the sand floor. Okay, thought Tom, the odds are a bit better now. He walked back out to the entrance, then looked up to make sure he wouldnt run into Deke again. But he was gone. All that remained was a spot of blood on the sand. He climbed up out of there and quickly crawled on all fours to the cave entrance, following the blood trail. His sword had gone clean through the mans hand, almost severing it completely. He emerged into sunlight, and had to blink his eyes. His horse was still there, tied up to the old gnarled tree. But two other horses were still there, and he assumed the third was gone, ridden off by Deke. The blood trail he was leaving left little doubt that he wouldnt make it to town to get patched up. I should go and finish him off, thought Tom. He would deserve it. But no, a calmer mood overcame him and he just slunk wearily into the sand, his back up against a boulder. The six-gun fell from his fingers, and he left it lying there. Soon he stood up, got his whiskey flask and tobacco pouch out, rolled a cigarette, and struck a match to light it. He inhaled deeply, the smoke burning his throat but calming him down. He took a slug of whiskey, and felt a little better.

He knew that if Deke made it to town somehow, he would be hell-bent for revenge. Anger would blind him until he killed Tom, most likely a most agonizing and horrible death. Maybe he should ride out and find him, and end it now. But thats not the way he worked. He was generally an honest man, and despised killing unless absolutely necessary. He knew hed already killed one man, and the other one wouldnt be in any shape to take him on anytime soon, so he gave the coin in his pocket some thought. Where had he seen that shape, that design, before? He couldnt remember, exactly. But then he remembered the stories about the Spanish doubloons that were lost to the seas all those decades ago, how many of their ships had run into foul weather and had sunk. Many tales existed of their sailors, desperately trying to fight the ferocity of the storms, and many losing their lives for their efforts. He remembered seeing one in a coin shop back home, how shiny it was. The storekeeper had said it was genuine, and the one now in his hand looked very similar. He couldnt help but wonder, just how much and how close am I to this supposed treasure, if it exists? Is this coin in his hand the proof he needed,

or was it from some other expedition of the Spaniards? He got up, took another drink of his whiskey, finished his smoke, and put the flask back in his saddlebags. He took his rifle out of it scabbard and made sure there was a round in the chamber. Then he sat down to relight his campfire. By god, the sun was down low in the west already. How time flew by, he mused. Lost complete track of it. He nursed the flames back to life, and sat back again, and took a deep breath. Well, he thought, with it getting dark, theres no point in trying to go back into the tunnels tonight. It can wait until first light. He fell sound asleep with his rifle across his lap, just in case. A wind came moaning down off the mountain, blowing the flames of the fire and sending embers scattering about. Once again, the mountain settled down for the night, and with it all the living things on and around it. The animals hunkered down, and soon the stars came out, bright and beautiful in an ink-black sky, signifying the end of another day in the desert. It was still night time when he woke up. The stars were still shining brightly above his head. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs, then got up. The fire was down to some

glowing coals; he threw some more sticks on it and watched as they caught the flame and relit. He decided hed need some coffee and a smoke. He got up and went over to his horse, and retrieved his saddlebags. He took out his tobacco pouch and rolled a smoke, then lit it. With some more water from his canteen, he put into the small pot to boil for coffee. Then he sat down once again, playing the day before in his mind over and over again. He looked up at the stars, and marveled at just how peaceful it looked. He wished that there existed that kind of peace down here. But that wasnt the human way. Someone would take offense to what someone else said or did, and soon one would be pushing up daisies in Boot Hill. Crazy world, this is, he thought to himself. Crazy world. He poured himself some water for coffee, and then realized just how hungry he was. He hadnt eaten in over a day. His stomach was growling, and he figured hed better eat something, to give him the energy hed need to get through another day. This treasure hunting gig wasnt all that it was cracked up to be. Some people made it sound a

helluva lot easier than it was. He took some salt pork out of his bag and put it in a little frypan to cook. He decided hed heat up some more beans too. Biscuits would complement the meal, but he wanted to get an early start in the tunnel. He finished his meal, and with a satisfied burp, rolled a smoke. He sat contentedly smoking, enjoying the bite of the tobacco in his throat. It woke him up, and with a hot cup of coffee, started the day off just right. Once he got back inside the tunnels, hed start looking where hed found the coin the day before. Tom finished his smoke, grabbed another stick to use for a torch, and wrapped some cloth around the end of it, sticking the end into the fire. Once done, he got down on all fours to go back into the tunnel. He reached the spot where he fell down, and eased himself over the edge until his foot found contact with one of the boards that was still embedded in the limestone wall. He got down, and started on his way. He soon reached the room where the tunnels branched off. The man hed shot in the shoulder had dragged himself out into this room, and was looking at him with a mean,

crazy Im going to kill you scowl. He ignored him and entered the left tunnel, torch held before him. He arrived at the spot where the coin had been found, and slowly made his way farther into the dark void. Nothing yet. Soon he had gone another hundred feet when something shiny caught his eye. His pulse quickened, but his hopes were soon dashed when he picked up the tiny sliver of glass that had been laying there. He threw it down disgustedly and continued on his way. Soon this tunnel started sloping down slightly, just like the other one. Gradually it leveled off, and when it did, the tunnels branched off in all four directions of the compass. Which one to take? He figured he might as well take the straight in approach, so he kept going the way he came from. This tunnel petered out after a couple of hundred feet. He turned around and came back, to work his way clockwise around these four tunnels. He entered the second one and only got about fifty feet when it dropped into a pool of dark, cold water. The next one didnt promise any more than the first two. But in the last one, he had walked about twenty feet in when something shiny materialized yet again on the ground. He bent

over to pick it up, and sure enough it was another of those coins. He pocketed it, and kept going forward. Within the next two hundred feet he found three more of the gold coins. Maybe this rumor isnt a rumor at all, he thought to himself. Holy shit, with just these five coins, its been worth it. He continued on, and the tunnel turned to the left. He almost dropped the torch with what the light showed. He had stumbled upon a long dead man, the bones laying in the dust for God knows how long. Cobwebs surrounded the figure, and it was half covered in the fine dust of the tunnel floor. He watched it nervously as he scooted past, his lust for gold overcoming his fear of the dead. He soon came to the end of this tunnel. He had to find something! He couldnt believe that it would end like this. Cursing, he looked at the carved wall, trying to spot any indication of a door or opening of some kind. He looked again at the long-dead person, and noticed something hanging from its neck. He reached out, and retrieved what appeared to be a chain with a funny looking locket on the end of it. It was in the shape of a half-moon, and he rubbed

the corroded metal with his thumb, revealing the letter S in Spanish script. He tried to open the locket, but the tiny hinge was too encrusted with years of grime and dirt to open freely. It would have to be cleaned, and the only way he could do that would be to head back to town. He pocketed the jewelry and made his way back the way he had come. He finally reached the cave entrance, and loaded his gear on his horse. He mounted his horse, and rode back down the trail they came up, heading back into town. He figured hed need a pick, a shovel, some more food, another canteen, and a few other items. It would take until nightfall to reach town, so he did some thinking while carefully riding down the trail back towards the canyon entrance. Hed found five gold coins, each the same as the other. They had some strange unfamiliar shapes on them, with some lettering he couldnt identify. Perhaps the bartender or the town doctor could help him in the identification of them. But the chain really perplexed him. Who was the man that he had taken it from? Was he an important historical figure, or just a poor, unlucky soul who got trapped in the caves doing the very thing he was doing? Should he say anything or not? He figured he didnt have much choice in the matter. He needed supplies and the rest of his money was gone. He would try the doctor first,

and perhaps the old gentleman would be so kind as to keep his mouth closed about the gold. Tom sure didnt need the publicity. He felt that he was close on the trail to finding the mother lode. If these coins existed, then surely the rest of the treasure couldnt be too far away, depending on how far the Spaniards had made it with their treasure. He remembered the barkeep telling him that they at least had hidden the treasure before they were all massacred, but it was just hearsay, he said. He couldnt prove any of it. Well, now he had all the proof he needed in his pockets. Five coins that should prove to anyone that the treasure did indeed exist. He reached the outskirts of town, and some townspeople came running. One shouted out if he had indeed stabbed Deke Harrington; he said he did. But he also added that he was protecting what was his from a bandit. That didnt set too well with some folks, who thought that maybe this new youngster ought to be strung up. He didnt care at the moment; he stopped his horse in front of the saloon, tied it up, and went in. The barkeeper was the first to notice him. Hey, stranger, how did it go? he asked. Tom didnt say anything, just smacked his hand on the bar. I want a drink, and

keep em coming! he said. Well, that spoke volumes to all who were in the saloon. There were about ten other men in there, and they knew exactly what was going on. The town doctor was in here, getting an evening drink. Well son, you seem to be in a pretty good mood considering, he said. Tom was a bit perplexed. What do you mean? he asked. The man you stabbed, Deke? He died two days ago, and his daddys lookin for revenge. He came into my office and I tried to save him, but he lost quite a bit of blood, there was just no way for me to do that. Well, this was indeed a chink in the armor, thought Tom. He hadnt meant to kill the man, just keep him out of his way. After all, he did try to dry-gulch him. But the townsfolk didnt want to hear it. They were ready for an all-out lynching! What the hell was he going to do? He was a stranger, and Dekes father owned the town. Who were they going to believe? He would just have to prove it, thats all, but his evidence was mighty thin. He would have to hope that the doc would testify for him, to prove that he was wounded when he came into town, plus the testimony of the bartender.

All in all, his story was mighty thin. Who would believe that they tried to kill him at his first claim? Nobody would, so he would have to find some proof, proof that might be extremely hard to come across. He was drinking his third whiskey when the sheriff came in. Son, I have to take you in on a murder charge, he said. Tom couldnt believe it. Murder? Sheriff, those men tried to hang me out yonder awhile back. How the hell can you charge me with murder when I was defending myself? Aint the way Mr. Harrington sees it, son, and he pretty much gets his way around these parts, answered the sheriff, a stocky man with a cool but cautious demeanor. You killed his boy, and he aims to see you swing. Look sheriff, I was hung out to dry. Him and two hired hands tried to kill me once before, out at my original claim. I even have the neck burn here, see? Tom showed him the mark on his neck. Well son, that just proves you have a wound on your neck, dont prove that they tried to hang you, he retorted. Sheriff, please, you have to believe me, I didnt murder anyone. He tried to kill me, stated Tom without much effect. He figured hed swing for this, sure as shit. No one in

town would help him out, especially if they owed the banker, which most folks did. The sheriff pulled out his manacles to cuff Tom. In sheer panic, he went for his gun. Whoa there son, the sheriff said. What the hell you think youre doin? Im getting out of here, Sheriff, and there aint nobody gonna stop me. I didnt kill that man, and I was just preserving what was mine. If you cant see that youre as blind as a bat! Come on, son, dont make this any harder than it already is, he said sardonically. Lets go and talk to the judge; maybe we can figure this all out, get it into the open. Ya know, Sheriff, added the bartender, he did come in here pretty cut up the other day. Even the docll tell you that. Yes, he did, said Doc Wallace, but that doesnt prove that Deke and his boys did it. No it dont, he agreed. But I wouldnt put it past those snakes! Either way youre comin with me, son, said the Sheriff. Now lets go and dont make it any worse for yourself. Tom saw that he was not going to win this one. He put his gun on the bar, turned around, and the sheriff put the manacles on his wrists. Might as well do this the legal way, he thought. Hopefully he wouldnt be swinging in the breeze come midnight.

He was laying on his cot in the city jail. Hell, he didnt mean to kill anyone, but they

started the shit, and he finished it. Now he just had to prove, somehow, that these men had tried to kill him first, and he killed in self-defense. He surveyed his surroundings. He sat in a small cell, about eight feet by eight feet square, with bars on three sides of him. He could smell a pot of coffee on the small potbellied stove, wondering if the sheriff would be kind enough to offer him a cup. He looked around, but didnt see anyone there. He briefly thought about banging on the bars or yelling, but with the predicament he was currently in it probably wouldnt help much. Tom thought about how he could prove that those men had nearly dry-gulched him at his claim. What could he use for evidence that they had started all of this? He thought about it some more, when the door opened, and the sheriff came in with a steaming mug of coffee. Figured you could use a cup of joe, he said without malice. Much obliged, Sheriff, he said, gently taking the proffered cup between the bars and sitting down on the rusty creaky bunk to drink it. What do you think my chances are? Unless you have some kind of proof those men tried to kill you, I wouldnt give you

a chance in hell, son. If you can come up with some evidence or something, you need to do it quick. I talked to the judge, and you have until midnight tomorrow to show some evidence that those men tried to kill you first. Tom mulled that over, the smell of the coffee strangely reassuring. He was in a pickle this time, he knew. What could he do to prove his innocence? Well, Sheriff, he said finally, kinda hard to prove my self-defense claim in here, isnt it? The sheriff agreed. My hands are tied, son. You are in there for murder, and no respectable judge would just let you out so you can take off. He saw his reasoning. If he let him out to find proof, he could just as well get on his horse and beat feet out of town, never to return. However, he had a lot of reasons to stay, so he tried one more idea, about the last one he could come up with at the moment. Sheriff, Im gonna tell you somethin, and I hope you understand my reasoning. Ive a good hunch that theres a hidden stash of gold and other things up in the mountains. Thats the second place that Deke and his guns tried to lynch me. If you let me out, Ill take you up there and prove that to you. I shot one man dead, and another I left with a

bullet in the shoulder. But Id be willing to share the treasure if you think its worth it. Dont believe you, he said sardonically. You need to prove that, too. Tom reached into his pocket, and produced one of the gold coins. Is this proof enough for you, Sheriff? The sheriffs eyeballs got about twice their normal size when he laid them on the coin. He took it and weighed it with his hands. Is this it? Tom decided he could trust the man, because at the moment he had no one else he could rely on. No sir, I have four more that I have hidden. If you let me out, I can take you to the tunnels where I found those coins. I was told there was a Spanish expedition that hid several fortunes worth of gold and jewels up in the hills, and I found these in one of the tunnels I went through. The sheriff just whistled through his teeth. Then, to prove the validity that the coin was real, took a bite of the coin. The imprint it made proved to him that it was indeed gold. Well, Sheriff, do we have a deal or dont we? Tom asked the lawman. I don't think so, son, replied the sheriff. I'm not that stupid. The look on Tom's face spoke volumes.

Chapter 7 He awoke, and a few stars were still in the brightening early morning sky. The sun was still below the horizon, and he blinked the sand out of his eyes. He reached over and shook his boots. He didnt need a scorpion bite in addition to being shot. He pulled them on, and slowly got to his feet. My God, he thought, my body hurts in places that I didnt know existed. His horse turned his way when it heard him moving and snorted a little. Easy, boy, he said, patting the animal on the nose. Well rest once we get to town. Youll get a good rubdown then. He stretched out as much as his wounds would let him. They hurt like they were on fire, and he desperately needed medical attention. But he couldnt do that until he reached town, and hopefully by mid-day he would be there. He mounted up, and with a click they were off. He wanted to get as much distance as he could while it was still cool outside. The heat just saps the strength out of man and beast, and makes it that much harder. The sun was still below the horizon, but wasnt far off from rising. He needed to make time today, because his body was getting weaker and

weaker. He held onto the pommel of his saddle and let the horse lead. He felt halfdead, and probably looked the worse for wear. Hed make it one way or another. He had to. The sun rose steadily higher and it started to get hot. Dust devils whirled their dance in the distance, and some tumbleweeds bounced along uneven paths. Their course was set by the dry, dusty winds that blew through this area. Sand was also blown along with the loose scrub, and if one wasnt careful, it would get into every bodily opening that existed. One hour passed, then two, three. Soon in the distance he could see some white shapes dancing in the heat waves of the desert air. He started to hope that he was closer to Borderland. He was wide awake now. His body hurt, and as weak as he was, he was surprised that he didnt fall out of the saddle. He urged the buckskin on with his spurs, and the horse started to trot, smelling the finish line. Soon they pulled up on the main street, and he headed straight to the livery to get his horse taken care of. The hostler took one look at him, and figured hed need to call the coroner. This man looked half dead, with a bloody shirt and a face that was long ago tanned by the desert sun. He grabbed the horses

reins, and squinted his eyes. Stranger, you look mighty bad. The docs office is just up the street, on the right, he offered in assistance. The man just looked at him, mumbled a thanks, and dropped out of the saddle. He reached in the saddlebags, and grabbed the sacks of gold. He reached into one of them and withdrew a coin. Heres for the horse. Make sure hes taken care of, he said, flipping the man the coin. The hostler caught it, took a bite, and pocketed his earnings. Yes, sir, he said. Yes, sir! John looked around town, and stepped onto the boardwalk, his boots echoing on the wooden planks. He didnt go far, and found the doctors office. He opened the door, and the woman behind the counter looked at him in disdain. Can I help you? she asked, eyeing him up and down. Need to see the doc, he answered, and took slight amusement in the way her nose turned up at him. The doctors busy, youll have to come back later, she said very rudely. He just looked at her, reached into a pocket, and pulled out another gold coin. He looked at her politely and smiled. Is he busy now?

She just eyeballed that coin, and hurried to the back room. Soon a middle-aged man, slightly balding, appeared at the desk. He eyed the man who had just walked into his office, and urged him to follow him into his exam room. The doctor was quick and thorough. He removed the old bandages, cleaned the wounds with antiseptic, and re-bandaged them, taping them onto his skin to keep them from falling off. He took a bit more time with his arm wound, seeing as infection had started to set in. He scraped off the scab, making John wince, and proceeded to clean the wound to prevent gangrene. John gasped when he poured the antiseptic on it. The doctor finally finished, and stepped back. Put your shirt back on, he said, and proceeded to put his instruments in a soak of alcohol. Thats about all I can do for you, son, he added. John did as he was told, and got up off the exam table. He walked to the front of the office to pay the man what he owed him for fixing him up. How much? he asked. Well, said the doctor, judging by how you were banged up, I want five dollars. Five dollars! he stammered. He couldnt believe it, that was a lot of money. Finally he just grinned, reached into his pocket, and took out several coins. There you are, doc,

he said. He turned around to walk out of the office. The door opened, and there stood Bud Lamont. An evil grin was on his face, and John knew hed been had. Hello, stranger, he said, savoring the moment. If his eyes could get any more evil-looking, he wouldve bet against it. Ive been waiting for you. You have something of mine. I dont think so, Bud, said John, favoring his shoulder. Yeah, I think you do, said Bud with a leer. He looked at the bandages the doctor had put on. Looks like my boys got to you. Yeah, they did, and only two of em lived to tell about it, said John, feeling his adrenaline kick in. With that, Bud gave off a look that dripped hate. Tomorrow at noon, pardner, he said. Tomorrow at noon, in the street. John just looked at him. He knew he was in trouble now. There was no way he could outdraw Lamont, not all banged up as he was. Lamont stalked out, and slammed the door. You alright, son? asked the doctor. He was eyeing his handiwork. What was that about? Yessir, he said. That man stole what was mine, and Im not about to back down from him, winged or not.

He walked across the dusty street to the saloon, and ordered a drink. I need a room for the night, he said to the bartender. The man just motioned with his hands. Upstairs, and pointed his index and middle fingers up. Two dollars. Okay, he thought. I can handle that. He gave the man his money, and was given a room key in return. He walked up the steps and found his room. He opened the door, walked in, and looked around. It was a small room, complete with a well-worn bed, dresser with a bowl of water on it, and a window facing the street. He walked over, looked out the window, and took his hat off, wiping his brow. He sat heavily on the bed. He was dead-tired, and needed his rest. Especially for tomorrow, he thought. Soon the whiskey worked on his brain, and he dozed off, tossing fitfully, with dreams of bullets flying in his mind. The next day dawned bright and hot. John got up, pulled his boots on, and grabbed his gunbelt. He didnt want to be ambushed. He walked down the stairs, and ordered some grub. He didnt want to die hungry, either. The cook hurried back to make up his food. He sat in a chair by the window, watching the townspeople walk by, minding their

own business. He noticed the town clock, which read 10:45, and realized that hed slept way too much. Soon he would be either alive or dead. He might as well enjoy this meal, for it may be his last. The cook came out with a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast, along with a steaming cup of coffee. He ate hungrily, and savored the taste of real coffee, not that trail chuckwagon stuff. He finished his breakfast, and sat back in his chair and enjoyed the moment. He rolled himself a smoke, and sat back contentedly watching the smoke curl up towards the ceiling. His arm and shoulder still hurt, but he wasnt concerned about that at the moment. It was 11:30, and he had maybe half an hour to live. Would he be able to outdraw Lamont? He wasnt sure, especially with the shape he was in. He untied the thong around his revolver, adjusted his belt, and walked out of the saloon. His boots echoed on the boardwalk, and already a crowd had gathered to watch, perhaps his final moments as a person. He looked around, and saw perhaps three dozen people there watching, waiting like hungry lions for the meat to be tossed to them. That made him angry, and he stalked out into the dusty street like he owned it.

There were a few catcalls and whoops from the crowd, but he ignored them. He was focused on one thing: killing Bud Lamont, or at least winging him. The clock edged closer towards noon, and he licked his lips, his mouth dry, his stomach full of butterflies. He walked to the center of the street, awaiting his destiny. He didnt have to wait too long. Soon Bud Lamont showed up, dressed in his usual black outfit, and swaggering like he owned the town. Overconfident, John thought, because hes fighting a wounded man. Well, he thought, he was going to give him the best he could do. Both men stood facing each other, and the crowd grew anxious. A few souls yelled encouragement to him, but most of them were on the gunfighters side. He licked his lips again, and his tongue felt thick in his mouth. With the strike of noon, hed either be dead or alive. No maybes, just here or not. The clock ticked closer to noon. Bud Lamont stopped in the middle of the street, about twenty yards away. He had a smirk on his face, and John vowed to do everything he could. The clock ticked away, and soon noon struck. Both men went for their weapons. John felt a hot flash on his right side, and fired his weapon. Everything happened in

slow motion. The bullet he fired entered Bud Lamonts throat, and exited out his neck. Blood spurted everywhere, and he dropped to his knees. He had been shot again, but not accurately. He was still alive, and Lamonts lifeblood was draining out onto the dusty street. He stood up, and waited. Several people broke from the crowd to check on the downed gunfighter. The doctor hurried over, and looked at the body. He was on one knee in the dust, and looked at the gathering crowd. He just shook his head. At that, John just fell to his knees, totally exhausted and worn out. He had won, and had been shot again. He collapsed into the street, and soon the doctor and several townspeople clustered around him, trying to get him to his feet. He was vaguely aware of what was going on, and soon found himself in the doctors office again. He was given a stern look by the doctor. Yer damn lucky, ya know that? he asked him, shaking his head. He staunched the flow of blood on Johns new wound with a clean cloth. I dont know how you did it, but you beat one of the better gunfighters in this part of the West. Just lucky I guess, Doc, he said with a wry grin on his face. Just lucky. With that, he passed out cold.

John Peppers was a simple man. Born on a farm, he was used to working hard every day and making the most out of what life had given him. It was no different when he grew older. Only the time and place were different. He married while still in his mid-twenties, to a beautiful redhead named Eliza Wilson. They worked, him for a local rancher and her for a bookkeeper in town, and saved every dime they made. Within several years they had enough money to put down on some ranch land of their own. It was small at first, with just the house and an old ramshackle stable, which was more a lean-to than anything. But John tore it down and replaced it with a regular stable. Soon they had several horses and were saving money for some cattle. After that the plan was to buy more ranch land and increase their herd. They were well on their way. Everything was looking good for the young couple. In a couple of years Eliza became pregnant and gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, who they named Lilly after her maternal grandmother. The impish little grin that she gave her parents charmed them and their neighbors as well. She loved the attention, was what one would call a Daddys girl. Three years after Lilly came Matthew. He had curly blonde hair and loved to get into everything. He would often be found chewing on the kitchen table, chairs, or anything else that

happened to be laying around the house. One had to be careful where one left their belongings while visiting the Peppers residence. One day, John was out surveying some property adjacent to his, alongside a canyon that he thought of purchasing and using the valley below for grazing. He walked over the canyon wall again and again. Something seemed different about this for some reason. Although by no means a miner or geologist, he knew a vein of gold when he saw it. And the vein he spotted that day turned out to be his undoing. He hastily packed his equipment and tied it to his horse. By the time he got back to the ranch house he was as out of breath as his mount was. He fairly jumped off the animals back and went rushing into the house. He told his wife what he had found. She was suspicious of it though; said it would bring only trouble. She was right. Not too long afterward some men who claimed they were looking for jobs stopped by the house when John was in town buying up supplies. They tortured and raped Eliza, and tied her and the children up inside the house. Then they torched the place, laughing

as the flames licked at the wooden structure and listening to the screams of those three souls inside being burned alive. On the way home, John smelled the smoke. He urged his mounts even faster, hoping the supplies stayed in the wagon as he bounced over the ruts in the road. By the time he got to the house, it was gone. It was nothing but a pile of stone and ash. He jumped off the seat and walked towards what was once his and his wifes and it was then he saw the three charred bodies leaning up against what was left of the fireplace. John just sank to his knees and cried for a long, long time. He buried his wife and children under the big oak tree in their front yard, clearly marking the graves. His grief was so great he even thought of taking his own life, just putting the end of his pistol to his temple and firing. But that wouldnt bring them back. He must seek revenge upon those that had done this heinous act. He would not rest until those filthy swine were caught and hung, their bodies swinging in the breeze. Then he would have time to rest. He went back into town, this time buying an entire barrel of whiskey. He dug some dishes and cups out of the charred remains of his house, along with a few strands of clothing. Every

day he woke up drinking, hardly eating, and soon his body was so enamored to the amber liquid that he would get sick if he didnt have it. It was then that he realized he needed the whiskey, that to go without for even one day would be so bad for him that he felt he couldnt make it through the day. His grief was drowned by the fiery liquid, and the more he had the more he enjoyed it. One day he was drinking and walked past the graves of his family. He had gone through anything that he might use on his journey, which wasnt much. He said goodbye to his wife, daughter, and son and with his horse, some supplies, and his six-gun left his ranch, determined to find who was responsible for this massacre. When he did only God could help them. It would be just a matter of time. He and Eliza had about $2000 in the bank, which he would withdraw and close the account. He would use this money to live on while he was on his mission. He also made a thousand dollars on the sale of his herd of cattle to his neighbor to the south, Herb Dolland. He felt genuinely sorry for John and took the herd off his hands, paying slightly higher than market value just to try and help the man

out. So he had about three thousand dollars in which he would use to avenge his familys slaughter. He was riding through the desert and sagebrush one day, watching a dust devil wind its way slowly amongst the tumbleweeds and cactus plants, when his mind focused sharply on his wife. He remembered how beautiful she was, with her red hair and green eyes. She always had a smile on her face, no matter how bad the situation was. Her Irish heritage clearly showed through when she was mad. Her voice would rise a little and then she would chew your ears off. Eliza was definitely afraid of no one, man nor beast. He was so proud of her and his heart ached that she was gone, he thought he would be driven mad. The desert was playing weird tricks on his mind, too. He swore he could almost hear her voice on the soft wind, sighing gently past him and swirling in and amongst the brush and rocks of the buttes and canyons. He shook his head vigorously and lowered his hat a little more down over his eyes to prevent the sand from blowing in them. One piece that he had dug from the remains of his home he had tied around his neck. It was one of his wifes brooches that she had received from her grandmother when they were

married. It smelled of smoke, but he would swear that he could almost smell her perfume on it also. The memory of his family almost made him give up, but he swore revenge upon those who had committed this atrocious act upon helpless human beings.

He thought once he reached town he could get another horse to use for a pack mule, and maybe go back and dig into that vein of gold he had found. Originally he only took some small samples from the vein and hid the rest with some rocks and scrub brush. His main concern, though, were the bandits who had murdered his family and burned his ranch to the ground. He made sure his horse drank his fill, then filled his canteens. He rose up in the saddle and started off once again. About three hours later he swore he couldve heard a locomotive whistle. He stopped his horse, and sure enough, out in the distance was the distinctive sound of the steam whistle. He must be getting closer to another town. He stopped his horse and just listened. Off to his right was a narrow canyon draw he could just go into and make sure he wasnt seen. He would try to make himself as invisible as possible so as to not scare off the men he was tracking. About fifty feet into the draw it narrowed down to two arms-length width between the two walls towering a hundred feet above him. Once he reached the top of the trail, he could look down into the town below and plan his entry and escape, if need be. It was a small town, with the railroad running right through the middle. It had false-front buildings along both sides of the street, and he followed the trail down from the hill into the eastern part of town. As he entered, he ignored the stares of the townspeople and tied his horse up in front of the saloon. As he walked in, he noticed that the place was packed. He found himself weaving between people talking, dancing and drinking. He finally made his way to the bar, and ordered himself a drink. After all that time in the desert, he was thirsty.

After the sixth drink, he found himself in conversation with an older man on his left, one Sir Archibald Kreasy, mining magnate and investor in railroads. Although John was far from having a thick tongue, Sir Archibald was not. He was staggering and slipping along the bar, trying to keep his composure. He even lost two drinks to the floor when the glass dropped out of his fingers. After ten drinks, it was time to find a table. Seriously, old bean, mumbled Sir Archibald in a drunken stupor, seriously. I find your story absolutely horrible. These men must be found and must be made to account for their crimes. Yes, and thats why Ive made it my lifes work to go after them, said John, his tongue now starting to catch that whiskey glow. The two men were talking together like they had known each other for years. Off in one corner of the saloon were four men playing cards, and the line at the bar was long. John learned that tonight was the celebration of the signing of the citys charter, an anniversary so to speak. Everyone was getting blissfully and annoyingly drunk. The way he felt, he fit right in with this crowd. I need to find a room, he said finally to Sir Archibald. I have to leave early in the morning. Sir Archibald just looked at him with bleary eyes and said nothing. In a minute it seemed to sink in to what John had said, and he pointed across the street, where there was a hotel. Cross the street is the Guild Hall, he said thickly. John could tell that he needed to get to his room before he passed out. Come on, said John, Ill take you to your room while I get one for me. The two men wound their way through the crowd, now weaving crazily to and fro, and finally made it into the fresh air and onto the boardwalk. It nearly floored both of them. Soon they made it across the street to the Guild Hall, and John walked up to the reception desk. Id like a room for the night, please, he said drunkenly to the man at the desk. He got a baleful eye in return. Look, mister, I dont care what you think of me, I have the money to pay for it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills.

The eyeballs of the reception attendant just about popped out of their sockets. Yes, sir, right away sir, he stammered, turning around and fumbling with a set of keys. Your room is up the stairs, to the right, and third door on the left. He dropped them while trying to hand them to John, he was so nervous. He also felt like an idiot. He was prejudging again, something his wife was trying to eliminate from his psyche. He watched as the man in front of him picked them up and headed up the stairs, helping an enebriated gentleman whom everyone knew as Sir Archibald to his own room. The two of them smelled of whiskey, and he reached under his counter and grabbed his own bottle. He popped the cork out and took a long swallow, recapping it and placing it back under the countertop. Much better, he thought to himself, much better. Soon a voice hollered down from the top of the stairs. Where in the hell is this mans room? asked John, trying to hold up Sir Archibald while trying not to fall down the stairs himself. The reception attendant, whose name was Howard, raced around the corner and up the steps two at a time to prevent the two drunken men from falling down the stairs and breaking their necks. He quickly took Sir Archibalds arm from Johns and proceeded down the left hallway. Luckily his room was the first one on the right, and as he opened the door, Sir Archibald let loose a loud belch. He quickly walked him towards the bed and flopped him down on it. He left and closed the door quietly while the snores from the passed out patron followed him. He then led John to his room, smelling the strong odor of alcohol on his breath as well. He handled his booze a lot better than Sir Archibald did, though. He was still conscious and walking without aid. He found the door and opened it for him, pointing him in. John walked a bit unsteadily into the room and Howard closed the door behind him, walked back down the steps to his place behind the counter, and proceeded to uncork his bottle of whiskey again. John plopped down onto the squeaky bed, and was soon blissfully asleep.

John awoke to a new day with the sun peeking through his window. His head hurt and his throat was dry. Too much whiskey again, he thought to himself. He got up out of bed and made sure he had all his money. He kept it in a hidden pocket of his jacket, and hoped that no one would find it. He took it out, counted it, and found that everything was accounted for. Good, he said to himself, one less problem to worry about. He walked downstairs after gathering his belongings and paid his room tab. He moved outside into the bright sunshine and onto the boardwalk. Directly across the street was a restaurant, and he walked over to get himself some breakfast before he headed out of town. He sat down in a wooden chair, and waited patiently for them to cook his meal. He thought steak and eggs would be a good choice this morning, along with some hot coffee to wash it all down. When he was finished, he wiped his mouth off, paid his bill, and walked out of the restaurant towards where his horse had been stabled for the night. Just then he heard a shout behind him. The sheriff was limping towards him with an envelope in his hands. When the man finally got to him, he handed him the envelope, to which John casually opened. Whats this? he asked. Its a warrant for your arrest, answered the man. You need to come with me. I don't understand, said John, perplexed. Just come with me, nice and easy-like, said the sheriff, drawing his pistol. Lets not have any trouble now, mister. John could tell that he was deadly serious about this, so he let it drop for now, and went with the man quietly. Once inside the jailhouse, the air was cooler. He was motioned to sit down in front of a large wooden desk that had seen better years. On it were assorted papers scattered here and there with a large blotter covering most of the wood. The sheriff took his seat behind the desk and started moving papers around, shuffling them together and putting them in a drawer he had pulled out.

Now then, he said, looking up at John, lets see if we cant figure this little problem out, mister. John just looked at him. He couldnt believe this was happening. He was being misidentified as a horse thief and murderer. At this rate, the real murderers would get away scot clean. That would not be satisfactory with him, because of the anger he had for them. They murdered his family, and he was the one they thought was a murderer! John got up to leave, and the sheriff pulled his gun on him again. No sir, I think we need to put you in lock up, he said, noting the anger on Johns face. Only until we get this figured out. I got a marshal coming in from Kansas City in two days time, and hell identify you one way or the other. If you are who you say you are, youll be free to go. If not, youll hang the next day. He could see that he had no choice. He put his belongings down on the desk and followed the deputy into the back where the cells were. He was led into the very back one, and the deputy closed the bar door and locked it. Then he went back out into the office and closed the big wooden door behind him. He was in a pickle now, he thought. Locked up and no place to go. And to top it off I might get myself hung, just for looking like someone else. This isnt working the way it should! Well, at least his belly was full, for now. The only thing was is that they probably wouldnt let him have a bottle in here, and the shakes would soon be coming on him. Then his day would really get miserable. He had to find some way to get a bottle in here. Two days to wait for the federal marshal to get here from Kansas City! Dammit, this wasnt going to work at all, no sirree bob! Hey! Hey out there! he shouted, banging uselessly on the bars. I want to talk to you for a minute! No one answered. Of course he didnt think that they would, but he had to try. Then the big wooden door swung inwardly just a little bit, and the deputys head poked through the opening. What do you want? he asked him. I need a drink, partner, said John. I need a drink somethin fierce. Hows about a bottle of whiskey comin my way?

The deputy just shook his head and closed the door. He knew that the answer to his question would be an unqualified no. If he was to hang, what the hell was the difference, anyway? Hed rather be hung drunk than sober, if that was to be his fate! A short while later, the door opened again, and the deputy came walking back towards him with a glass in one hand and a bottle in the other. Well, Ill be damned! he said. This wont be too bad after all now, will it? The deputy set down the glass and bottle just within his reach, and turned around to leave. John said one word. Thanks! He opened it and swallowed a third of it on the first try. He smacked his lips and filled the glass, intent on nursing the rest of the bottle throughout the night, because he didnt feel that they would be as generous again. He looked around his surroundings. His cell was on the end of the hallway, with two cells on his left further up towards the wooden door. The walls were about two feet thick to prevent any escape attempts, although he could see recent mortar where someone had tried to do just that. After the fifth glass, the alcohol was giving him a warm glow. Then the wooden door opened, and the sheriff walked in, followed by a tall, gaunt man with a silver badge on his chest. This couldnt be the lawman from Kansas City, he thought. It was at least a two-day ride from here. Then it hit him. He had taken the railroad, and found out hed been in a hurry to identify John. The man looked at him, and motioned for the sheriff to open the door. As the bars swung open, he moved in Johns direction and grabbed his chin, turning it one way, then the other. He was looking for something that stood out, and from how long it took one guessed that he wasnt finding it. Finally he let go of Johns chin. This isnt him, Sheriff, he said with a little dissatisfaction in his voice. Not only had he wasted time coming here, but the fact that this man closely resembled the wanted criminal really dug into his craw, knowing that the real murderer was still running free out there. Let this man free. The deputy looked at his boss, who nodded his head. He motioned to John to come out, and took him into the office to retrieve his belongings. The sheriff eyeballed the marshal. You better be certain about

this Jim he said. There wont be a second chance. That man will be gone as soon as hes on his horse. I know, Les, but theres nothing I can do about it. Ive seen Clem up close, and that man isnt him. First, he doesnt have the hole in his earlobe. Second, he doesnt have the scars on his chin from almost being drygulched by the Colton gang back in 54. Nobody told me about those scars, said the sheriff. Otherwise Id of let him ride free the first time around. Not your fault, we didnt advertise those scars because Clem is a fugitive. We figured that the wanted poster would be enough. We were wrong, and I need to apologize to that man. You might want to do the same, Les. Alright, if you say so, Ill go with what you say, he said finally. He realized that they had made a mistake, but how were they to know without all the proper information being put on the wanted poster? He did his job, just like he was supposed to do. It wasnt his fault that the description on the poster didnt contain all the information that was needed to convict this man. Well, I guess Ill go out there and make sure he has all his belongings and let him go, said Les with a wry look on his face. It seemed like every time Jim saw his friend more and more wrinkles creased that leathery visage. Jim walked up to him and patted him on the shoulder. Dont worry about it, Les, we all make mistakes. Id hate to send an innocent man to the gallows. Yeah, I guess youre right at that, said Les. He limped towards his office, and sat behind his desk, where he had to start a report on what had happened to keep it from happening again. An innocent man swinging or being locked up was trouble for a lawmans career, especially if it was proven in court. Their word was then questioned, then came the talk. After that one might as well hang up his guns, because his career as a lawman was basically over. His word meant nothing and his reputation was sullied forever. Les made sure that John Peppers received everything that was taken from him and had him sign for it.

Then he let him go, a free man. There was nothing else he could do, considering what Jim had told him. Not only did he not have a pierced earlobe like Levens did, but he had no scars on his chin from escaping from a rowdy bunch.

Chapter 8 John felt alive again, to be free. Now he could continue the search for the men who had murdered his family. With the Federal Marshal coming in to identify him and set him free, he didnt have to worry about being followed by the law. He knew he didnt do the crimes that this Clem Levens did, but he had to prove it, apparently. He walked across the street and went into the general store to buy some supplies. He was already a day late in his tracking and he needed to make some time to catch up to the men who had ruined his life. He bought the usual, flour, coffee, bacon, and some tobacco and added several bottles of whiskey to his trove as well. Once he had everything bundled up, he walked outside and tied everything up to his horse. He then mounted and reined the mustang around and headed north out of town towards the mountains that yearned in the distance. He figured thats where the men would hide out, because winter

would be coming soon to the highland areas and he wanted to make sure he could still track them. On and on he rode, until the sun set in the west off to his left. His travels had taken him to a mountain range, and he needed to find a place to bed down for the night and give his horse some well deserved rest. Finally he found a spot under some aspen trees that was fairly flat and had a nice little pool of water from which his horse could drink. He stopped there, took the saddle off, and prepared his bedroll while his horse drank. Then he gathered some sticks for firewood and soon had a small fire going. He rigged up a cooking surface and started to cook some bacon and flour to make tortillas. As the heat rose, he got up and retrieved a whiskey bottle from his pack and sat down and slugged a good portion of it before he capped it and stared contentedly into the fire. His body hurt, and he had aches that he never thought he would ever feel. Being dependent upon alcohol on a daily basis had ruined his health, but the thoughts he got while sober were too damning to keep reliving over and over again. He felt as if he let his family down by going into town by himself, when they all should have done so. No sense in reliving the past, he thought. Only change the future.

That was the way that it had to be. His family was dead, and he would avenge their deaths. Simple. It might take him forever, but he would do his damndest to make sure those responsible faced their judge and jury. A man in town told him that three men had rode off in this direction, and not too long ago, either. So he decided hed follow and see what kind of trail he could come up with. He saw a few snakes amongst the scrub, but that was about it. The horizon shimmered in the desert heat, and a dust devil swirled among the tumbleweeds. The sun was high in the sky. He was sweating profusely now with the advent of the desert heat. He took off his hat and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. Stuffing it back in his pocket, he noticed a flicker of light off to the south. Or was it a rifle barrel? He spurred his horse onto a faster gait and jumped off behind some boulders that had lain dormant for thousands of years. He drew his pistol out of its holster and waited, looking for the elusive glint of light on metal to give his enemys position away. Another whang of a bullet ricocheting off the rock wall behind him, and he threw himself flat onto

the desert floor. He couldnt see where the assailant was, but assumed that he was on top of the other side of the rock wall where he could hide himself well. John took another look, and was rewarded for his efforts with a bullet hitting the dirt in front of him. He needed to find out where his assailant was. He peeked around the corner of the boulder, and fired in the general direction in which he had seen the sliver of light. Another bullet his way was the result. How the hell was he going to get out of this one? He surveyed his surroundings. He had in front of him two good-sized boulders that provided good cover, and behind him was a wall of limestone, with a rocky path on the left side of it. He decided he would try to make it on top of the limestone, but it would be risky. He would be exposed all the way to the top. He decided he had to chance it, because there was no other way out. If he went to gather up the reins of his horse, he was a dead man. He took one last look around the corner of the boulder, fired a shot, then took off hell-bent for leather for the top of the abutment. Several shots whined in the dust behind him, and as soon as he reached the top he dropped flat on his stomach to survey his new ground.

All around him was a scattering of rocks of all shapes and sizes, with some scrub brush thrown in for good measure. There were a few good hiding spots but not many. He quickly slid across on his stomach to one of the bigger rocks, and was rewarded with a rifle shot across his path. He sighted his rifle between two rocks, and found what he was looking for. The man shooting at him was about three hundred yards away, almost too far for his rifle to shoot accurately. However, he had to try. He sighted just a little above the man and pulled the trigger. He was rewarded when he saw the man drop. Hold it! said a voice behind him. He put his pistol on the ground in front of him, very slowly so as not to give whoever it was behind him a reason to shoot. Of course, these men didnt need any reason, he figured. They would shoot him down in cold blood if thats what it took to silence him. What do you want? he asked as he turned around, hands in the air. He didnt much expect an answer, but the man he faced couldve been his twin. The only difference was the style of clothing he wore and the earring in his left ear. His neck was scarred up, probably from someone trying to hang

him at one time or another. Well, well, well, said the man victoriously. Finally get to meet the man who got to sit in jail in my place! John just looked at him. He swore he was standing in front of a mirror. The man was the same height, same weight, and looked just like his mirror image. He didnt know what to say. He was speechless for the first time in a long time. Who are you? The other man just chuckled. You should know who I am, mister. Im you. What do you mean, youre me? asked John. I never had a brother or a twin or whatever. The man just chortled and kicked at the sand with the toe of his boot. Well now, I dont have to say that I had a brother or not. I really dont know and could care less. What I am interested in is that rebel gold you have hidden somewhere. John was dumbstruck. What gold? Clems faade didnt waver. What gold? Well, pardner, the gold that was buried out here a long time ago by Rebel sympathizers who didnt want the money to go to the North during the Civil War. John was puzzled. What was he talking about? He didnt know about any gold out here, except in

the mines themselves. No one had ever heard of a lost treasure out in these lands before. But judging by the serious look on Clems face, there was one. John mentally took a step back and considered his situation. Here he was, being dealt a crappy hand at poker, and there was nothing he could do about it. Apparently this man was up to no good and because he looked like him he was the one getting the worst of it. The outlaw led John to a cave that was carved into the limestone walls of the canyon, and together they sat down while Clem tried to explain to him what was going to happen. First of all, youre going to help me and my boys to that loot, then well figure out what happens to you after that, he said, and the look on his face indicated he was quite serious about what he said. Then your world will really come crashing down around you. What do you mean? asked John, still puzzled as to what was going on. Clem didnt answer him. He walked backwards towards his horse and got the rope that was dangling from the pommel. He then walked back to John with the intention of tying him up. John started to rise to his feet, but the gun muzzle made him change his mind. His mind was reeling. Hidden gold? Rebel sympathizers? What was going on around here? He wasnt sure about anything. The

only thing he knew was that he had to get back on the trail to finding the men who murdered his family. Then he remembered something about the sheriff talking to the Federal marshal, something about a neck scar on a man. He looked closer at Clem. The hole in his earlobe was there, and on his neck was what looked like a rope burn. Sonuvabitch! So hed found his familys killers, or rather, they found him! Now what? How was he going to get himself out of this predicament? He thought about his options, and there werent very many. Somehow he had to get free from these men and get his guns back. That would be the only way to take care of these murderous thieves once and for all. He had a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach and he closed his eyes and tried to think about all his options. Clem went to the cave entrance and hollered out to his unseen partners. Okay boys, come on in, I have him! Within ten minutes, John was surrounded by three no-good evil men. They all had smirks on their faces and carried themselves with the arrogance of one who knows hes won the battle. He thought that maybe he could use that to his advantage. Just perhaps

He outlined what was going on. He was surrounded by three armed and dangerous men. He was tied up. How could he possibly get free and get his pistol back? It looked pretty hopeless and he knew it was a long shot. Freedom looked to be as far away as the nearest star in the heavens. The one thing that he did have going for him was the fact that they didnt know that he was looking for them. How could he possibly use that to his advantage? All he needed right now was a drink. He was thirsty, and not for water. The lack of alcohol lately caused him some problems, and he sorely wished for a tumbler full of whiskey right now. It might help him think a little better. Maybe one of these men had a bottle Naw, he thought, they wouldnt have any whiskey, and if they did, they surely wouldnt give him any. Now his body was really craving the alcohol. He started to shake and his voice cracked with thirst. Any of you boys have a whiskey bottle with you, by chance? he asked hoarsely. He watched as they all shook their heads. Might be worth somethin to ya to have something with ya. They looked at him skeptically, then looked at Clem. He just shook his head. Ravings of a drunk,

he said, and walked out of the cave. John looked at the other two men standing guard. One of you gives me a gun, Ill trade it for what I know about the gold hes lookin for. What do you mean? asked the shorter one, with a beard full of trail dust and the curiosity of a nine year old. John thought about this one, and figured that perhaps he could get this one to turn to his side. It was his only shot at getting out of this alive. Clem was the leader, and without him, these two were clay ready to be molded to another leaders whim. So if he could turn these two to his side, then maybe hed make it out of this alive. Clem said something about a lost rebel gold treasure, said John. He could almost see the smell of victory on these mens' faces. Said I knew where it was. Sposin I told you two where it was, what would it be worth to ya? The two men just looked at each other. Then they smiled a big toothy grin. Clem didnt promise much to them for ambushing this man, but this here fella was willing to part with thousands of dollars of treasure just to be free. Something didnt smell right in the cow pasture. John could almost feel their greed. He smiled at both of them, and proceeded to work his bonds that

much looser behind his back while they stared at each other and dreamt of piles of gold, diamonds, and other worldly goods. Soon he had the knots free, but kept his hands behind his back to make sure his captors were fooled. They looked at him, and smiled their toothy smiles. Where the gold is? the one named Manuel asked. You tell us, we might let you live! He turned to his partner and laughed, slapping his leg and finding all of this humorous. Unfortunately, John didnt find it the least bit funny. It was his life they were playing with, and he had to come up with something good, and soon. John weighed all his options, and decided that he had no choice other than to trust these two men to his fate. If destiny chose that he die, then so be it. He didnt have much of a choice either way. He, whether he like it or not, would have to let the cards lay as they fell, and take it from there. His bonds were loose enough to where he could get his hands out, but he still needed a weapon. He needed to get a hold of his gun belt so he could get out of this mess. Unfortunately, that didnt seem possible. He just sat there with his hands behind his back, watching the flicker of the small fire that

they had started. It reminded him of how hungry he was. He hadnt eaten for two days now. He also hadnt had a drink, either, and it was beginning to wear on his nerves. He wriggled through his bonds some more while watching his captors, who were more interested in what was going on outside the cave. The crackling of the small fire gave him some measure of comfort to hide the sound of his struggles. He decided that hed wait for a little while, get some food in his belly and then make a break for it. Hey, how about some grub? Im starving! he shouted to the two men watching him. One of them picked up his rifle and walked towards him, pointing it menacingly at his chest. You eat when we eat, so shut up, was all the man said. John noticed that he had a tired look on his face and that the look in his eyes was such as that in which a man will kill in cold blood with no remorse whatsoever. It was a look in which John didnt much care for. Soon the other man came in with some provisions and added some more sticks to the fire. He set up a tripod for a kettle, and poured some water in it to heat up. After the water started to boil, he added some beans and on a flat rock started to roll some tortilla shells. He looked over at

his partner and spoke. Clem says he be back soon. Im hungry now, and not waiting any longer. His compadre just nodded. Hokay, Juan, you do what you want. Im hungry myself, and white man here been complaining hes hungry too. He pointed his rifle barrel towards John emphasizing his point. But Im keeping a lookout. I have bad feeling that Clem is going to try and double-cross us. Juan just looked at his old friend and nodded. Yes, I have same feeling too, muchacho. We have to keep our ears and eyes open. He tough hombre. Maybe we could double-cross him first. Manuel looked at John. What we do with him? As he finished his sentence, Clem walked into the cave entrance. What are you two planning? he asked. The two Mexicans looked at each other. Nothing, senor, just figuring out where to spend all those dollars you keep promising us. Juan smiled at Clem, noticing that he had put another fancy earring in his earlobe. He looked like a pirate, he thought. All he needed was a parrot to sit on his shoulder. He started to chuckle to himself. What the hell are you laughin at, son? asked Clem with a nasty look on his face. One thing he

couldnt stand was being laughed at. Several men had died because of just that. Nothin senor, nothin, answered Juan. He didnt need to stir up any trouble amongst them, at least not yet. Hed wait until they had the gold in hand, then the white man would die. He looked over at Manuel, who was busying himself with the food, which by now had started to smell real good. His stomach was as empty as the rest of them, and he sure didnt want to fight on an empty stomach. Time was on their side, and he would wait. Soon, he told himself, soon. Clem snorted and looked at John. Youll be singin like a bird soon, son, he promised him. We want the location of that gold, and by the time were through with you youll be begging to let us take you there. John didnt look up, he just sat there staring into the sand. Soon he felt his head slam to one side, feeling the effects of the kick that Clem had just given him, and he rolled back onto his haunches, spitting out the remains of a tooth and blood. Youll die for that, John said to him. He wanted so bad to undo the rest of his bonds, but he restrained himself. Now was not the time for revenge; that would come soon enough. Hed seen enough of these hombres around that he knew soon

they would be fighting amongst themselves for what they wanted and all he had to do was sit back and enjoy the show. Then he would make his move. The one called Manuel walked behind him and undid the rope tying his hands so he could eat his food. Then a plate was put in front of him consisting of two fried tortillas and some baked beans. What passed for coffee was also given to him in a tin cup. The others sat around their small campfire and started eating their food also. Just once did Clem look at him from eating. Then a thought passed through his evil mind, and a smile slowly spread on his leathery, scarred face. He figured that a few more robberies that he could do, perhaps hold up a stagecoach and a bank or two, would he be able to pin it on this guy here, since they looked so similar. Lose the earring and put some hand cream on his neck to hide the rope burn and he could probably get away with it. Why settle for the small stuff when the whole world was waiting to be had? He chuckled to himself at this new-found energy he found himself with, surging with every bite of his food. Soon he was done, and he got up and walked outside the cave entrance to

smoke a cigarette, letting the smoke whirl around his head as he was deep in thought. Visions of untold amounts of gold, diamonds, and other valuables danced through his head and the more he thought about it, the more the plan formed. And all the while theyd be looking for someone else! Now he would have to drastically alter his plans. His first thought was to get him to show him where that vein of gold was located, then hed stash it and get rid of these two Mexicans and go on the robbery spree of the century. An evil smile slowly grew on his face as thoughts of immense riches danced in front of his hazel eyes. Alright, you ready to talk? He turned around and walked towards John, the evil grin still on his face. If I was you, pardner, Id be. John, his face bruised and sore from where hed been kicked, spat out the words to Clem. No, I dont think so. You can kill me if you want to, but youll never find that vein of gold, you dirty sorry.. Another kick to his face was his answer. He spat out blood again, and this time just glared at the outlaw. He looked at his two Mexican sidekicks, who were watching with interest.

The one called Juan had his machete out and was sharpening it with a stone. Be easier on you, senor, to talk, and soon, he said with no emotion in his voice. John knew they were paid killers, but he figured that either way theyd kill him, whether they had the gold or not. Without it, he would stay alive that much longer. This much he knew. Now whether that would be hours or days he knew not, but he had to give himself every possible moment. Get him up, barked Clem, and put him on his horse. Its time to move out. The two desperadoes hauled John to his feet and marched him out of the cave. Juan kicked sand into the coals of the small fire to put it out, and lessen the chances of their being followed. A small wisp of smoke followed them out into the open, and they all mounted up, heading in a northerly direction towards the mountains. Clem figured they had a better chance of it up in the mountains, and since that was where they had captured John, would be their best guess as to where the motherlode was hidden. Several hours later found them plodding along, with Clem in the lead, followed by Juan, John, and

Manuel bringing up the rear. They were at the base of the mountains now, and figured this would be as good a place as any to camp for the night. They also needed to water their mounts, as they were needing food and a good rubdown as well. They picked a spot amongst the scrub elders and oaks that were springing up from the rocky outcropping they had happened upon. Here there was a small trickle which grew into a nice little pond for the animals to drink from. The smell of flowers was in the air as well, and the sunset painted an idyllic picture for this little spot of nowhere. Off in the distance the great buttes shot up as though they were fingers pointing at the heavens, and in the east the sky was beginning to darken just a little. John sat and mused throughout most of the night. He stared up at the stars in the sky, marveling at how beautiful such a sight was. The millions of pinpoints of light on the blackness of the sky was truly amazing to behold. Then his attention turned to his current predicament when one of the horses whinnied, and the unmistakable rattle that followed it. Oh, great, he thought, a rattlesnake and him with his hands tied! Now what? Should he wake up one of the Mexicans and have him

shoot it? Hey, over there, you wanna get that snake fore it gets me or the horses? he called out to no one in particular. One gunshot was as good as another. Soon a voice spoke beside him in the darkness. Keep quiet, and move back slowly. He did as he was told, because being bitten out here was as much of a death sentence as a hanging was in town. No doctors were on duty out here in the great outdoors. Then he watched a dark form slither past him, and the man soon passed, heading towards where the horses were tied up. A single gunshot made him and everyone else jump up. What the hell! hollered Clem. Dont worry, senor, Juan is very good with pistol. Got im with one shot! said the man, picking up the dead snake by the tail and wriggling it in front of him. Next, he put his pistol in its holster and took out his knife. Juan collects rattles to give to son! Happily he smiled as he hacked off the rattle and added his macabre trophy to his bag on the back of his horse. By now they were all awake and alert. Alright, lets get going, said Clem authoritatively. Man after man alighted upon his mount, and the foursome strode out of their peaceful little camp.

John glanced around at the surroundings, making a mental note to himself to keep track of where they were, just in case. They headed north, towards the mountains, and off to their right and left stretched the desert for miles and miles. They picked their way through the scrub and cholla and made pretty good time. Soon they picked up an old Indian trail that took them directly into the mountains themselves, and the trail got rockier. The air grew cooler and noticeably thinner the higher up they went. They stopped for a rest, and made a small campfire at the base of a scarp that went straight up for over 100 feet. John took stock of his surroundings. He was no closer to freedom now than hed been this morning. His hands were still tied securely, and his weapon was still with Clem Levens. It looked pretty bleak for him. If there was a way to get one of his hired guns on his side, perhaps there was a way out of this disaster.

Chapter 9 Jim Patterson had been a federal marshal now going on ten years. In the years before that hed

been sheriff of a town called Sweetwater, where it was rumored that he had tamed it better than the Earps tamed Tombstone. He was a no-nonsense man, not likely to believe stories and only interested in the hard, cold facts of a case. In this matter, he figured hed better follow this John Peppers, because deep in his belly he had a bad feeling about the man. He believed he was who he said he was, but it was the way in which he said it. Matter-of-fact and no nonsense about it. But he had to admit that Clem Levens and John Peppers sure as hell looked like they were made with the same mold. He watched as the man got up on his horse after coming out of the general store, where hed been buying supplies, no doubt. As the man headed out of town, the dread in his belly grew worse and that little voice in his head told him that this man was walking into a heap of trouble. He wasnt sure what exactly it was, but the man was going to need some help down the line sooner or later. He walked back into the saloon, and said his goodbyes to his friend Les Johnson. Hed known the sheriff for many years, practically grew up together. He was Les deputy a long time ago, and had

learned from the best. Now it was time to do some trailing. The bad feeling in his guts just wouldnt go away. He walked across the street to the general store to get himself some provisions as well. He figured hed need at least a weeks worth of food, coffee, and tobacco to take. He gathered his supplies and loaded them on his horse, then mounted up. He wasnt sure when he would see this town again, but he at least had a week to find out. He stopped when John stopped and only wanted to keep him within sight of the horizon. He didnt want the man to know he was being followed, not for any legal purpose but for the simple expedient that he might need some help in the future. Sure enough, on the third day out, he started noticing several more tracks in the desert sand. From what he could gather, there were at least two sets of horse prints that had been following John as well, and as he stopped and gathered his bearings, he was certain that it was at least two men. And when men follow other men this deep into the desert, no good will come out of it. No good at all. He eased off a bit, trying to give them no more leeway than a half a day ahead of

him. Then on the fourth day he heard rifle shots, and knew that John would be in trouble. He pulled up against a canyon wall to hide himself from the shooter or shooters and waited. After half an hour, he got back on the trail and followed to where he left off. Then something made him stop his horse in its tracks. A shape was moving up yonder on the canyon wall and making its way down a narrow trail. He backed up his mount to hide it in some scrub while he jumped down and took a look. It was a single man on horseback. That would explain the shooting. But he didnt know who it was, not this far off. The man disappeared around the canyon wall and soon Jim remounted his own horse and followed the prints in the sand, noticing that the ground was getting rockier the further he went. He would have to be careful now, to make sure that he or they didnt notice that they were being followed. Closer and closer he got, until finally he was surrounded by boulders. He tied his horse to a piece of scrub pine and found himself a little niche in the rocky outcropping to where he could see and hear what was going on. He found a spot in between two big boulders the size of houses,

and found himself looking at a cave entrance. One man was leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette and he was wondering if this was the man he had seen on the canyon wall. He watched as the man disappeared back into the cave, and moved around to his right to try and flank whoever it was that was lurking inside it. He had taken three steps when he heard the clink of a horseshoe on bare rock, and stopped, holding his breath. He turned around, and standing not twenty feet away was a man astride a beautiful horse, a roan whose coat shone in the sun. He carefully made his way back towards his hiding spot and decided to wait it out. The man on the horse was different, though; he had dark skin, but he wasnt of Spanish origin. His bleach-blonde hair fell off towards his shoulders, and he rode easily like he was the king of the castle and knew it. He had on a dark shirt with a gray vest, and polished black boots. He definitely sat like he had an air of authority about him. Then the man turned towards the cave entrance and dismounted from his horse.

What are you two planning? he heard as the man walked further into the cave. So there were three of them, four with John. He pretty much figured John was their prisoner by the way they acted. One was always on guard, looking north, south, east, and west and back to the north again, making sure that they werent being followed. Problem was, they were getting slack. If they were any good, they would have noticed him by yesterday at the latest. But he wasnt one to curse his good luck; he would continue on course and see what developed. He began to walk around his right flank again. He wanted to get closer to hear what they had to talk about. He also wanted to see who he was dealing with. Of course, the blonde man on the horse. Clem Levens! Hed been stupid not to have known that before. That was the major difference between John and Clem. John didnt own any fancy horse, either, just your run-of-the-mill trail horse. He made his way further and further, until he was almost directly above the cave entrance. Soon he heard tidbits coming his way about gold, jewels, and other such valuables. Well, they must figure that John knows something about minerals to keep him company. That was one thing that could be

said about Clem Levens, he didnt have a decent bone in his body. Hed shoot a puppy if it looked at him the wrong way. He was just that type of man. Granted, one had to be tough to survive in these lands, but there was a fine line between tough and barbaric. Even the Indians werent that savage. Now he had to formulate a plan to escape with John in tow. The man would most likely be weak with hunger and thirst, and that would slow them down. He walked back down the trail towards his hiding spot and decided to wait it out the night, and see what developed come morning. It was still dark when he heard a voice rasping in the brisk morning air. Get him up and put him on his horse. Its time to move out! Jim was instantly awake, grabbing the reins of his own horse to keep it quiet. He rubbed his muzzle to make sure that he didnt get spooked, and let the other riders go until they were just out of sight, then started off for the cave entrance to see if John or the others had left some type of clue as to who besides Clem he was dealing with. He approached the cave with his weapon drawn, just in case. A small wisp of smoke still curled from the small fire that had been there, and towards the back of the cave were

several rope fibers. So they were traveling with him tied up. They must want him for something special. Although he knew that John did indeed look like Clem from the front, from the back was another story. Johns hair was a chestnut brown, while the outlaws was almost a white. He looked around for a little while and finding nothing else of value, walked out and looked in the general direction in which they had ridden. North, he thought, theyre going north. Gonna cut through the mountains and hit Tombstone, or perhaps several stages on the way. That would be about Levens type, he thought disgustedly. Man was too damn lazy to go out and get a real job, hed rather just steal it, didnt matter if it belonged to a big company or grannys life savings. He followed the tracks for awhile, then veered off to his right. If they were as careful as they ought to be, they would spot him on the trail easier than a buzzard finding some dead meat. He made his way through some rocky scrub and found himself among some pine trees, which would help greatly in hiding him. He crested a ridge, and looking down saw the trail that they would have taken through the

desert. They were definitely heading towards the mountains, he thought. Maybe Silver Pass? That was possible. Once there, they could form a raiding party for the couple of stagecoaches that did go through there at times. There would also be plenty of grass and water for their horses too. He got off his horse to rest it awhile. Now that he had a general direction, he would let them lead on. Besides, it was getting darker and he would need to find a place to camp for the night. He tied his horse onto a cedar branch and watched the animal chew disinterestedly while his minds gears were churning as to Clems motives. He was planning something, that he could feel in his bones sure as arthritis when the weather changed. It was the where and when that he wasnt sure about. He took the saddle off his horse, and laid it on the ground to lean against. Then he took some supplies out of his pack and began a small fire to make something to eat. Some bacon and jerky sounded pretty good right about now, he thought. Along with a steaming cup of coffee, it was a meal fit for a king. After he was done eating, he put away his utensils and watched the fire crackle down to embers, then he was soon fast asleep.

He decided that hed have to just go along with these men and see what happened. Hed tell them about the gold vein he found. As for the rebel treasure, he had no clue as to what or where it was, and would definitely be no help there. Alright, Ill lead you to where it is, he said finally, wearily. He was tired, and was sick to death of being around people such as these men. The gold is in a rich vein in the Davis Mountains, about two days from here. Clem had a look of victory on his face. There now, you see boys, he said, talking to his hired hands, theres always a peaceful end to what troubles the world today. A sneering look appeared on his face. Now that you decided youd tell us about that vein of gold, now you can tell us where that hidden Rebel treasure is now cant you? John looked at his captors with astonishment. Hed just given up information that he swore hed die with, and it still wasnt enough for these greedy men. I dont know about any hidden treasure, he said with resolution. I cant help you there. Oh, I think you can, said Clem. He swung a nasty right hook that caught John right in the jaw. His

head snapped to his right, and another tooth came out with the spit of blood. I dont know what youre talking about, I only know what I know, he protested. He was rewarded with another right, and his head snapped over again. Just get these ropes off me mister, and see what happens next, he thought. But no, that wouldnt happen, because then it would be a fair fight! He spit out more blood and shook his head, ready for the next blow. But surprisingly it didnt come. He looked up, and Manuel had Levens arm in his vise-like grip. Levens turned around in shock, and Manuel hit him with a hard right, knocking him to the ground. He no good to us all beat up, he told the man on the ground. Then he extended his arm and Levens grabbed it, pulling himself up. Men have died for less, he snarled to Manuel. He wiped the little blood spot on his lips off on his sleeve angrily. Sorry, senor, but he no good to us dead, he spoke again. He lead us to gold, then we kill him, hokay? The look in Clems eyes was murderous, and he was about two seconds from pulling his gun out of its holster and gunning down this arrogante hombre. But he still needed them.

Besides, if he gunned Manuel down, hed have to deal with Juan too. Hed even the score in due time, he swore silently. John watched all this with interest. It seemed that his thoughts were coming to fruition, that they were starting to fight amongst themselves. Thats fine, he thought, just keep right on doing what youre doing. Then itll be my turn. They untied him long enough to eat and drink a cup of coffee, then retied his hands behind his back. He laid back in the sand and watched the clouds chase each other across the sky. It was then that he started to think about his family once again, of how much he missed them. It was only a couple of months, but it seemed like years to him. The pain in his heart was still terrible, and he wished he had a bottle right now. Wait a minute, there was some in his pack. If he could possibly talk one of these men into giving him one, the pain would leave for a little while. Hey, Manuel, why dont you dig in my pack and get us a bottle? he asked hopefully. The other man just looked at him, and finally got to his feet, watching him like a hawk. No trick, he said, just get a bottle or two out of there and lets have a good time.

Manuel walked over to Johns horse, opened up his pack, and took out two bottles of whiskey. He then uncorked one bottle and took a long deep swallow. He held it up to Johns lips for him to swig some of the alcohol too. Thanks, pardner, he said in relief. Now maybe he could talk this man onto his side and possibly get out of this mess. Now could you untie me so I can drink with ya? he asked. Manuel shook his head. No tricks, I promise, said John. Besides, you have all the guns, what could I possibly do? Manuel looked at him again, then at Juan and Clem. Go ahead, Manuel, said Clem. He makes one move hes a dead man. He then took his pistol out of its holster and laid it on his lap for everyone to see. Manuel got up and untied John, keeping the rope next to him. He then gave the bottle to Clem, who in turn gave it to Juan. They passed it around for several minutes, and soon it was empty. Manuel uncorked the second bottle. Johns tongue was getting loose. What is this treasure youre talkin about? he asked finally. He was curious as to what it might be. The other three men just looked at him. Then Clem started his own dialogue.

Right before the end of the war, rumor has it that a Confederate unit in charge of a cache of gold headed west before the surrender. Rumor also has it that this gold was worth quite a few bucks, somewhere in the millions. He paused for effect, then took another swallow of whiskey. Either way, it was said to be buried in these here mountains, and I aim to get it! Manuel and Juan just looked over at each other. John caught the quick glance, but didnt say anything. He wanted these three to be as separate as possible, in order to make his escape quicker. How do you know it was buried in these mountains, if it ever did exist? he asked. Tongues move freely with whiskey and money, answered Clem. Its amazing what those two can do to loosen up someones big mouth. John thought about that. He was right in that respect. Money talked, and if that didnt work, then drinking would. But he himself had never heard of a lost cache of Confederate gold out here, much less in these mountains. He would have to think about that for awhile, give him something to ponder and kill the boredom. The sun was setting now, painting pastel colors on the desert and the buttes that protruded from them. Off in the distance, through the shimmer of the days heat, he

could see a lake, which in effect he knew to be a mirage. In the direction of north, which was to his right as he was sitting, he spotted something that looked like movement. Out here, though, it could be anything. A rabbit, a tumbleweed being blown about by the wind, or perhaps another mirage. He didnt think it was the latter, but one never quite knew what to expect out here. He stared into the embers of the fire, and threw some more sticks into it. Soon they would have to forage for some more dry wood to keep this fire going through the night, and he imagined that hed be on that work detail, which really didnt bother him at all. At least he could get the circulation going in his extremities that way. A flash of light off to the north caught his attention. He stared at it just a bit longer, then shook his head. Somethings playing with my head, he thought, just a trick of the desert. As he kept his eyes peeled, he didnt spot it again, so maybe it was just a figment of his imagination. Jim crept slowly up to the rocky outcropping that hed been using as an observation post. He could clearly see four men, although they blended in with the curve of the horizon and

the heat of the sun. He definitely did not want to move any closer, for they would spot him. Just then he noticed that his horse was gone. Aw hell, it took off to look for food. Been riding him too hard, he thought to himself. Well, he better get up and go look for his mount, and he could do his spying later on. Besides, with the light of the setting sun in the corner of his right eye, he couldnt see that well anyway. With one last look towards the south, he got up and quickly moved out of the open into an arroyo where he soon spotted his horse munching contentedly on some grass he had found there. Well boy, I guess we camp here tonight, huh? he said to the horse. Just then, the sound of gunfire erupted, and he could hear yelling off in the distance. He dropped automatically, and crawled around the corner of a big boulder to see what was going on. He didnt think they were shooting at him, but one was never too careful, especially with men as dangerous as these ones. What the hell are you two doing? hollered Clem at the two gunslingers. They were shooting their guns into the air and hollering some war chants, obviously an aftereffect of the prodigious amounts of whiskey they had consumed. It wasnt known as fire water for nothing. They truly

felt as if they were untouchable at this moment, and were letting off a little bit of steam. However, Clem didnt see it that way. Knock it off, you idiots, youll have half of Arizona after us! Sullen but not satisfied, they holstered their weapons and continued to consume what was left of the second bottle. John was feeling pretty good himself at this point. Should he make a go of it? No, not yet, he thought, theyre liable to shoot anytime, and it wouldnt help to get up and run, especially with no cover around. He would wait a little while longer. Besides, Clem was watching him good and his pistol was still within easy reach. He hadnt drank as much as the two Mexicans did, so he was still relatively sober. He turned around and took another look in the north. Maybe that flash was a trick in his mind, but then again maybe it wasnt. Being half lit-up with whiskey he couldnt be too sure himself of what he saw. But then thats the way the desert worked sometimes. Alright, Juan, tie him up again, ordered Clem. And make sure its nice and tight too! Juan stumbled over to Manuel, bent over to get the rope, and fell right into his partners lap. Roaring

with laughter, he got up and slowly made his way over to John, where he proceeded to attempt to tie his hands behind his back. After about ten minutes of fumbling, he stood up and admired his handiwork. It wouldnt hold a calf, but just maybe this man it will, he thought. By now the sky had darkened considerably, and Manuel was snoring away, his bedroll tucked behind his head. Juan wasnt very far off, and Clem had his eyes on John all the way. He figured that he might as well get some shut-eye, because tomorrow would be another long day. Jim, now a little bolder with the onset of darkness, took a peek over the arroyo wall he was in and looked towards the campsite ahead of him. All he could see was a small pinpoint of light which he assumed was the campfire, and nothing else. He figured that the yelling and shooting had been caused by drinking, and that meant that they would be passed out. Unfortunately, so would John. Clem he wasnt too sure about, but he had to make a decision soon. His supplies were almost gone, and he needed to rest his horse up. His mind made up, he got up from behind the dirt and rock wall where he was and started off on foot towards the point of light. It seemed to him that they were about half a mile

ahead, and it would take him about twenty minutes to get there. He checked his weapon to make sure it was loaded, and left the thong untied. He walked along at a good trot, and the closer he got the slower his steps became. He didnt want to wake them up. Three against one in a gunfight, even if they were drunk, was not good odds. He was about two hundred yards away now, and could smell the smoke from the fire, which had died down to embers. Another 5 minutes and he was at the hundred yard mark. He could make out three forms lying on the ground, with the fourth slightly hidden behind some rocks. This he had to assume would be Clem Levens, because as crooked as the man was, he was not stupid, and wouldnt lie out in the open. There was a small crescent moon out, and he could just make out what was in front of him. The last thing he needed was to step on a stone and wake up these men. Only one he wanted awake, and unfortunately he was passed out with the others. At fifty feet away, he pulled out his gun and kept a steady pace towards their camp. A wolf howled

off in the distance, and he froze. One of the men snored loudly and turned around, getting more comfortable, then returned to snoring. Soon he could make out their faces, and he found John, just on the far side laying on his back. He crept quietly around the others, careful so as not to wake them, and pulled up next to him. Keeping his eyes on the others, he shook him a couple of times. John, he whispered, trying to keep his voice as low as possible. John! John stirred, but did not awaken. He shook the man again, and this time was rewarded when he opened up his eyes. Quickly Jim put his hand over his mouth to keep him quiet, and motioned with his index finger over his lips. Come on, man, lets go! Jim helped the man up, keeping his eyes on the other men, and soon they were backing away from the campsite, heading in the direction of the arroyo where he had spotted Jim moving about. So far so good. Now, what about his horse? I need to get my horse, he said hoarsely, as if hed been the one hollering earlier that evening. No, itll wake them up! whispered Jim back angrily. He knew they would have to, though, because his one horse wouldnt carry both men for very long.

They made their way over to the horses, and John untied his from a branch of juniper that stuck its way out of the desert floor. Slowly, quietly, they backed away from the camp with Jim keeping his eyes on the others. He turned to tell John to hurry it up when a click of metal on metal instantly got their attention!

Jim shot first and talked later. Ride, boy, ride! he hollered at John, all the while shooting at Clem and his hired guns. Three to one were bad odds, but he had the advantage of surprise on his side, plus the fact that they consumed two bottles of good old whiskey. His first shot took down Manuel, his second missed, and his third shot struck Clem in the leg. Juan started to get up, and fired at him. A bullet whizzed past his head, and he shot a fourth time, sending Juan to the ground. He turned around and started running towards where he left his horse. John held back a little, and soon they were both on Johns horse riding back to the arroyo. Am I glad to see you! John shouted in happiness. I thought I was a dead man back there with those coyotes! Were not out of this yet, son, Jim said matter-of-factly. We still need to get the

hell out of here! They soon arrived at the arroyo to find Jims horse where hed left it. He jumped off Johns mount and saddled up on his own, and then the two of them took off up the dry wash, avoiding big rocks and sand pits along the way. John kept looking behind them, but didnt see a dust cloud following them, so after about fifteen minutes of hard riding, they came upon a shaded spot where they both got off their horses and tied them to the saplings taking shelter in the coolness of the overhanging ridge. Jim gave his six-gun to John to re-load, and pulled his rifle out of its boot mounted on the side of the horse. Cmon, we need to get to high ground, he said grunting with the effort of climbing the slippery gravel. Soon they were on top of a ridge looking down into the valley from whence they came, when they spotted a cloud of dust heading their way. Jim couldnt tell how many riders it was from this distance, but he knew hed winged at least two of them. They would soon find out. They both lay prone on top of the ridge and Jim fired off a warning shot to the riders down below. It was met with a return shot that went way over their heads. He took careful aim at the point of the dust

cloud, aimed just a little forward, and squeezed off a shot. At this distance he still couldnt tell if he hit something or not, but it seemed as if the cloud had slowed down some. You been following us? John asked questioningly. Jim just looked at him. Yep. Had a feeling in my belly that something bad was gonna happen to ya, and sure as hell it did. Im grateful, Marshal, said John. Ive been tracking some gunmen who killed my family a while back, and I think I might have just run into them. Not sure, but time will tell. Sorry for your loss, said the Marshal, and sighted down the barrel of the rifle, squeezing off another shot. Times are tough nowadays, arent they? John took his time answering. Yes, sir, was all he said. Looks like your friends enjoy punishment, said Jim, pointing down into the canyon with the barrel of his rifle. They dont know when to quit. They seem to think that I have knowledge of where some secret Confederate gold is buried around these parts, Marshal, and I honestly dont have a clue as to what theyre talking about. It always revolves around gold, or silver, or such doesnt it? Jim said, shaking his head. Besides, Ive been in this territory well on forty years, and I havent ever heard of no lost treasure, at least from

the Rebels that is. The riders below soon came into view. Clem Levens was in front, with Juan following right on his heels. Manuel was nowhere to be found. He must still be at the camp nursing his wound, he thought. Now the odds are getting better and better, and we can end this soon enough. John took the pistol and went back down the gravel trail towards their horses. Hed be damned if they were going to get there first and untie them, leaving them stranded. As soon as he reached ground level, a shot buzzed over his head and thudded into the limestone cliff behind him. He fired back, this time hitting Clem in the shoulder and knocking him off his horse. Juan fired, and hit John in the right forearm, tearing open a gash in the skin. Just a flesh wound, he thought, no problem. His next shot was right on target; it hit Juan right in the middle of the forehead, killing the man instantly and dropping him to the ground like a sack of flour. He walked over to where Clem lay wounded, and kicked his gun away. The man had a look of pure hatred on his face. If looks could kill, John wouldve dropped dead right then and there. Fortunately they didnt, guns did. Well, well, well, well, well, he snorted through painful gasps. Looks like you

finally won this round, dont it kid? Yeah, Clem, the good guys won this time. John kneeled down beside the fallen gunfighter. Clem just smirked. Seems like I get the last laugh, kid, he said, coughing up blood. How do you figure that, Clem? asked John. His gun never wavered from the downed mercenary. This picture ought to be enough for ya, said Clem, bloody foam forming on his lips. John reached down, and grabbed the picture from the man. It was Eliza and him, taken just a couple of years ago. He looked up at the scumbag on the ground, and swore that he would get him to town to swing in the breeze, no matter what. If only he didn't die on the way, he'd make him suffer in other ways. Then the grief overcame him. He didnt hear Jim coming down the slope behind him, and his eyes were filled with the tears of the mourning. He dropped the pistol and put his hands up to his face, the haunted vision in his mind once more. He didnt even feel the hand on his shoulder. Jim just let him have it out, and when he was done, they rode to the campsite to check up on Manuel. Judging by the amount of blood spilled in the sand, he was already dead. They took the last remaining horse in tow, got Clem up in the saddle, an d prepared for their trip back into town.

Jim told him that he thought retirement sounded pretty good anyways, so at least he would have a partner. As they got further and further away from the camp, Johns heart felt less heavy, and he didnt have the cravings for the whiskey like he normally would have. He plodded along next to Jim, pondering his future. He wanted to rebuild his house, that much he knew. However, that would take up a considerable amount of money.

Three days later, they reached the area where the vein was found and mined out some of it. They then headed back into town with a few pounds of nuggets in their packsaddles, enough to live on and buy more supplies. The grocery store owner eyed their gold with a gleam in his eye that he probably hadnt had since his teenage years. Then their next stop was the land grant office, to acquire the rights to the piece of property that their find was on. They went into the saloon and had a few drinks, and then across the street into the Golden Arch Hotel, where they got rooms and decided to rest up for the night. The next day found them at the bank, leaving some of their precious metal in the bankers vault.

They went to the newspaper and put an ad in for some extra hands to help them work the find, of which they decided that Jim would supervise. John wanted to do a little prospecting on his own, mainly to inquire further about the lost Confederate treasure. If he could find that, theyd be set for the rest of their lives, and then some. While Jim was supervising the mine, John went looking for a home. He found one that an old rancher was selling off because he couldnt take care of it anymore. It had a big picture window in front that showed a wonderful view of the mountains off to the south. It was in those very same mountains that the hidden gold was reputed to be hidden in, and he wanted to be the one to find it. The property also came with three hundred acres of prize grazing ground, and soon they set up some of their hands to handle the daily chores of raising cattle. They built a barn close to the fir trees on the hillside to keep them warm in the winter months, and they had several pasture lands to graze from during the warmer time of the year. Besides, it was fairly cheap, and he figured he could rebuild his ranch anytime.

One day while in town, John walked into the saloon to have a drink. On his way in he met his old friend Sir Archibald, who wanted to talk shop. What say, old bean? the Britisher asked. He had had a few and then a few more, and his words were slurred just a bit. Hello, Sir Archibald, John said politely. What can I do for you today? I would like to come visit you at your discretion, of course, to talk some business, railroad business, if you arent too busy old chap. How about tomorrow? John asked him. Im free all day and we could sit around and have a few drinks, talk some business Splendid, my son, splendid, said Sir Archibald. I hope it wont be an inconvenience. Nope. You just show up and well take care of business. Done, then. Until tomorrow Good day, Sir Archibald. Good day to you too, sir. John slammed down a few quick ones, then exited the saloon. His next stop was at the bank, to get a letter of credit for the building of a second barn. All his affairs were in proper order, so he didnt see any problem with it happening.

He walked down the boardwalk towards the bank, and once inside, was quickly ushered into the managers office. It was Spartan in nature, with files on one wall and the main safe directly behind him. The iron gates were open, which was typical for a business day. Suddenly, out in the bank proper there was a commotion. John got up and quickly looked around. The bank was being robbed, and with him in it!

Chapter 10 There were four of them, all wearing neckerchiefs for masks. Amongst the commotion, with the ladies screaming and the children crying, one voice stood out. He was apparently the leader of the robbers. Alright, ladies and gentlemen, we can do this the easy way, but if you want, we can do it the hard way too, he was saying. He threw several bags to the teller. Fill em! The teller, who had only started working here a little over a week ago, was so frightened that she almost passed out. However, she did manage to fill the bags and pass them back to the robber. Now ladies and gentlemen, I want you on the floor on your stomachs. Count to one hundred, and

after that you may get up. First one that raises his or her head off the floor wont have one left after were done with you! Immediately everyone dropped, except for John, who took his time getting onto the floor. The robbers hadnt missed his defiance. Oh, fellas, we got us a tough guy, said one. All John could see inside their masks was the eyes and the nose. Everything else was obscured. But he was close enough to the man to forever recognize him anywhere. His left eye was hazel, but his right eye was white! It was a very odd combination indeed. Down on the floor, mister, or you wont see the next sunrise! John did as he was told, and closed his eyes. For a moment he had that pang of fear in his belly, but it soon passed. Hed been through a traumatic experience once with a gang, and he made it out alive, so why shouldnt he now? The robbers took one last look around and disappeared out the door. They were seen running past the big bank window and getting onto horses, heading south out of town. Immediately everyone in the bank got to their feet. Round up a posse! yelled the bank manager. They had

ruffled his feathers by robbing his bank. Several men went rushing out the door, and several others went rushing to their homes to get their rifles, shotguns, and six-guns. John got up off the floor, dusted himself and calmly walked out of the building. He walked briskly towards where his horse was tied up and got onto the animal. He then headed west, towards his ranch, and in half an hour he was there. His foreman, Big Mike Henderson was waiting for him. We got trouble, boss, he said without emotion. The man was aptly named. He stood six foot five inches, weighed in at two hundred sixty pounds and none of it fat. His ruddy face belied the fact that he was as kind-hearted a soul as they came. He would walk little old ladies across the street, and five minutes later be throwing bodies out of the saloon. He had no temperament for foolishness and lazy people really irked his hide. Whats wrong, Mike? asked John. When he jumped off his horse he had to look up at his massive foreman. Its at the mine, John, he stated. It collapsed an hour ago. We just got the news and were getting

ready to head over there to do some diggin. This was bad, real bad. If it caved in on all the miners, fifteen people would be dead, including his partner Jim Patterson. He started barking orders to his crew, leaving one to guard the ranch house and cattle, and headed out towards the mine itself. It took about twenty minutes to get there, and once on site, he could see the devastation for himself. The whole entrance was collapsed downward, as if a mighty hand from heaven had struck it down. Several men were taking turns digging it out, and he hoped that there was an air pocket behind this so the rest of the men would be alive. Then someone hollered by the entrance. He walked over quickly and looked at where the man was pointing. A hand stuck out of the pile of rubble. Furiously the men dug deeper and deeper and finally they had the mans face uncovered. He was covered in gray and black dirt from the mine itself, and his eyes were closed. He wasnt breathing. I think hes dead, Boss, chirped up a man named Howard. Get him out of there, the docs on his way! ordered John, hoping that the man was still alive, but that hope dwindled with each passing moment. The first digging crew was relieved by the second, and

they started going at the pile of debris with a fanaticism that only John could appreciate. A few minutes later, Mike and the rest of the hands, along with Doc Weller, pulled up to the scene. The doctor quickly rushed over to the man laying on the ground, covered in dust. He took out his stethoscope and began to listen for a heartbeat. For awhile he heard nothing. He pushed on the mans chest with both hands, and a few minutes later the miner started spitting fluid up out of his lungs, and coughing out dust. I think hell be okay after a day or two, John, said the doctor. Hes gonna need some good bedrest for a few days. Thats okay, Doc, hes earned it. I just hope we can get the rest of my men out of that hellhole before its too late. Well, youre doing everything you can, right? Yes, as far as I know, answered John, with some doubt creeping into his voice. Look, John, beating yourself up isnt going to save those men. Just calm down and see what happens, okay? You know best, doc, he said. Soon the digging crew had a tunnel through the pile of debris. Several scampered

through the tunnel, hoping to find other survivors and bring them out into daylight. One by one they emerged, dirty and dusty but alive. Jim Patterson was the last one to leave. John caught up with Jim. What happened, Jim? I thought we had this all shored up according to specs. The other man had a fit of coughing before he replied. We did, but something went wrong. There were spots where the timber had been weakened. What do you mean weakened? As if in deliberate? Yup thats what Im sayin it looked like to me. They dont cut themselves, ya know. First he gets kidnapped, now this. Whats going to be next? He couldnt wait for the next fiasco to rear its ugly head. Calm down, he told himself. Dont get spooked in front of the men. He walked around them and checked on them to make sure they were okay, then gave them several days off to recuperate from what could have been a devastating tragedy. They were lucky no one died. Yeah, thought John. Lucky this time around. Whats going to happen next? Is the sky going to fall down, or what?

He got up on his horse and rode back to the ranch. He had some paperwork that needed attention and he wanted a distraction to get his mind off all these problems. It seemed as if someone or something was working against him, and wanted to see him fail. But who would want that? He couldnt think of anyone offhand. All his enemies were dead. Who could possibly want to wrong him? He had to do some thinking on this puzzle. The man in the bank really puzzled him. One eye a different color? How odd was that? He could be identified anywhere just by that feature alone. John would have to talk to the sheriff about that come morning when he rode into town for supplies again. He put his thoughts aside and finished the paperwork that he had been neglecting. Once done, he got up from his desk and went to make a pot of coffee. That would help clear his mind. A nice hot steaming cup of joe to help ease him into relaxation. Then the men at the mine started to worry him again. What did Jim say, that they had been cut deliberately? Something wasnt right here. He couldnt think of any of his hands who would do something like that. Nor anyone in town, for that matter. He would talk more with

Jim once he got back to the ranch and was rested up a bit. Maybe then they could clear this up together and find a solution. Then he remembered that tomorrow morning he would meet Sir Archibald in town. He wanted to know what the British man had to offer him. He wasnt rich yet, but he had a nice savings in his safe and once they caught the robbers of the bank he would have even more. However, every day that passed was one day farther that the robbers had on them. He decided to send some of his men, with him leading, to find these men once his business with Sir Archibald was completed. He would know what the man looked like, especially those eyes of his. His hand went to the brooch around his neck, and for the first time since the tragedy, he took it off his neck and placed it in his desk drawer. Then he made himself a simple supper and decided to call it a night. He went to lay down in his bed, and there was a knock on the door. He got up, and walking through the living room, opened up the massive wooden door. It was Big Mike. Sorry to bother you boss, but Jim wanted to talk to you for a minute, said the man. He looked

worn down and tired. Okay, Mike, send him on over, and go ahead and get some rest yourself. You look beat. Yessir, was the mans answer. Soon Jim came over from the bunkhouse, after gathering all the facts from the rest of the crew that he had been trapped with. He walked in without knocking as John was pouring himself a cup of coffee, and sat down heavily in a chair. Hey John, I got some more bad news, he said. I was talking to the men earlier, and I have the distinct impression that one of them isnt who he seems to be. He took the proffered cup of coffee and sipped at it in silence. What do you mean, Jim? asked John. Well, something isnt smelling right. First the timbers are cut, then were missing ore that was shipped to the surface. Someone is ramrodding us and getting away with it. I think we have someone here working on the inside for someone else. But I dont have proof yet, so I cant say much more than that. He put down his cup of coffee and stood up. Ive kept you up too long so Ill go back to the bunkhouse. But be careful John. Well get to the bottom of this one way or the

other. John looked at his friend. Okay, Jim, get some rest. I have to go into town tomorrow and take care of some business and while Im at it Ill do some snooping around. Right, have a good night, John, said the former lawman, and thanks for the coffee. He walked out of the house and shut the heavy wooden door behind him. Now John was more restless than ever. Now we have a saboteur in our midst, he thought. Just lovely. He went to bed and finally fell asleep, after more than an hour of tossing and turning while the facts in his mind drifted around and kept him awake. The new day dawned bright and hot. John decided to get an early start, so he mounted up and headed into town to meet Sir Archibald. As his horse plodded along, he kept a watchful eye out. He didnt want to be followed. As far as he knew, Jim was the only one who knew about him heading into town today, and he wanted to keep it that way. They would be busy cleaning up the mine shaft today, so he shouldnt have any problems there. He finally reached town, and went into the diner to order breakfast. As he sat down, Sir Archibald

walked in the door, a bit hung over but nattily dressed without so much as a speck of dirt on his suit. Sir Archibald, please join me for some breakfast. We can talk at the same time, he said. The well-dressed gentleman sat down at the table and ordered his meal. Yes, tis a fine morning, is it not? he asked John. Yes it is, John answered him. Now whats this business you wanted to talk about? Well, it revolves around some of your land, he stated with hesitation. One of the railroads wants to cut across a small portion of it. Oh do they now? This was the first that he had heard about this. He would need time to think it through, depending on what part of his land they wanted to build on. Of course you would be compensated for your troubles, added Sir Archibald. I would say about ten dollars an acre. Really? How much time can you give me to think about all of this? he asked. He wanted to stall for time, as something like this would take a great deal of thought. We can afford one week, and then well have to look elsewhere if your answer is no. Very well, youll have my answer in one weeks time, said John. By the way, how

much land are we talking about here? Well be needin about a hundred acres for the tracks and station. I also understand you have a mining operation going on up around there. The railroad would help your business there considerably, as well. One week then, Sir Archibald, said John, wiping his mouth with his napkin. Then youll have a definite answer from me. Fair enough, sir, said the Britisher, who got up, finished with his meal already. He took one last drink of tea from his cup, and walked towards the cash register. No, its paid for, said John, getting up himself. Please, Sir Archibald, I insist. Very well then, thank you for a wonderful start to the day, he answered. John went over and paid for their meals, then went across the street to the general store. There were some supplies that he needed to order in for the end of the week, and he wanted to make sure there were no foul-ups in that department as well. Old man Grissom took his list and set aside the items that he did have, and promised he would have the rest by the end of the week. With that, John walked down to the sheriffs office

to talk to him about the robbery the other day. He walked into the sparse office, and sat down opposite the sheriff, who was just finishing his breakfast. I need to pick your brain a little, sheriff, he said. It involves the bank robbery the other day. The man across from him just looked up, then finished his coffee. Alright, what can I help you with? Well sir, I remember a very distinct man, whose eyes were two different colors, he said, hoping it would trigger something in the mans memory. He was disappointed when the sheriff couldnt answer him right away. One eye was green and the other was almost white. Thats very odd around these parts, said the lawman, getting up from his chair and walking over to the WANTED posters hanging up on the brickwork wall. I dont seem to recall anyone around here having that distinct look about them. He turned around and handed the reports to John. Take a look through these and see if you recognize any of em. John scanned through the drawings, but none matched up with the man with the

unusual eyes he had seen the other day. No sir, none of these men here fit the description. Any word back from the posse chasing these men yet? The sheriff walked back to his seat and sat down heavily. Age and the stress of the job were starting to take their hold on his body. He took a deep breath and continued speaking. Nope. Not a word from any of em except to say that they chased em into the Davis Mountains. I havent heard anything since from em. That name triggered a response from John. The Davis Mountains? Isnt that where the supposed Oldtimers Mine is located at? Legend has it that it is, but I dont know what these other fellers would be doing hiding up in those hills. That is some of the most rugged land in these parts. Maybe thats the whole point, sheriff, that they can get into that kind of country and lose the posse. Possible. Why are you asking, do you have some kind of a plan to capture these men? No, not really. Its just that they took some of my money from the bank too, and Id like to see it

back where it belongs. The sheriff got up. Raise your right hand, son. John stood up and did so. I hereby deputize you, John Peppers, as a sworn law enforcement officer in the state of Arizona. Do you accept this privilege? John swallowed slowly. I do. Very well. Heres a badge. This may give you some extra leeway if and when you catch up with those varmints. Thanks, sheriff. I wont let you down. John pinned the badge on his vest, and shook the sheriffs hand. Well, since Im a deputy, I guess I better start huntin down some clues. Keep me informed, John, was all the sheriff said to him as he turned around and walked out of the office and onto the boardwalk outside. He walked towards his horse and got on, heading for the mine. He wanted to check on the neardisaster that had occurred yesterday, and have a look with his own eyes. He headed out of town, and took a trail only known to him that led straight through the pastureland that the railroad wanted to purchase that conveniently led right past the mine. He reached the entrance in about fifteen minutes at a fast trot. Jim and a handful of men were already there, shoring up the walls and

ceilings of the tunnel and cleaning out the debris. Howdy, John, said Jim as he saw him. Hows it going so far? John asked him. He wanted a progress report so he could focus on tracking the bank robbers if everything here was taken care of. Well, so far so good. Weve got about thirty feet shored up good right now and we should be done by tonight, if nothing else goes wrong. Okay, Ill be gone a couple days, so youll be in charge here. Ill swing by the ranch and let Big Mike know to keep his eyes open there. Where you headed to? asked Jim inquisitively. Ive been deputized by the sheriff, and am going to start tracking those bank thugs just as soon as I can. They ran off with some of our money too. You want me to come along? No, I need you here. Get the mine producing again and Ill be back in a few days. Okay. Be careful, my friend. I will, and good luck to you too. With that, John headed down the trail towards the ranch house to let Mike know his plans. Once that was done, he loaded up some supplies on a fresh horse and started on his journey towards the mountains. He would need to be careful once he got into

the open, because if they had lookouts posted they would see him before he saw them. He figured it would take most of the day just to get to the mountain base, and another day to start tracking those men. On he rode through the desert. On his right a dust-devil blew through a small wash, taking with it some tumbleweeds that had gotten caught up in the swirl of the wind and sand. He made his way through the scrub and cactus keeping an eye out for tracks and rattlesnakes. He not only had to worry about the men he was chasing but also the natural elements as well. Towards nightfall he found himself at the base of the mountains, and scouted out a spot to spend the night. He needed to be careful now, and not light a fire for fear of it being seen from up above. There were four of them and only one of him, and he needed to take his time and be cautious. He took the saddle off his horse, and together with his bedroll, used it as a headrest and fell asleep. Around midnight he was woken up by the howl of a coyote on some far-away canyon calling out to his mates in the night. He listened a little more, then dozed off once again. Towards daybreak, he arose and shaking his boots just in case a scorpion had

wrangled its way into one of them, put them on, then saddled his horse. He tied up his bedroll and attached that to his horse as well. He mounted up, and looked for a trail heading up. He went around the right flank of the mountain before spotting a gravelly trail that wasnt too steep for the horses footing. Up they went, winding around the pines and aspen with an occasional clump of oak in between, the air getting cooler with the height. Towards noon he took a break, dismounted, and decided to make a small campfire to make himself some coffee and something to eat. Being daytime, he figured that it would be hard to spot the flame, but he still needed to be careful with the smoke. As soon as he finished eating, he carefully put out the fire and put away his utensils, then walked his horse up the winding trail. He stopped several times thinking he heard something, but all it turned out to be was a hoot owl or eagle flying overhead. An hour later, he heard rock falling on rock and stopped dead in his tracks. His gut was telling him someone was up on the ridge above him, but that they hadnt spotted him yet. He needed to have the advantage of surprise. Off to the left of the trail lay an open area, but he didnt

want to go there. They would spot him for sure, and this would end with him being the loser. On his right the scrub got thicker, and he decided hed tie his horse up here to graze and drink from the small pool that trickled from above. Into the scrub he went, barely wide enough for him to pass through, keeping his eyes open above and in front of him. He kept his six-gun in its holster for now, not wanting it to flash in the sunlight and attract unwanted attention. He moved silently through the brush with the occasional small branch cracking under his boots and was soon up on top of a ridge, looking out across a flat plain. Here he could see most of the flat area, and still be hidden behind these boulders. The wind blew the grass gently as it sighed through the canyon walls, and the smell of smoke was in the air. He was getting closer. He stopped to listen for awhile, but heard nothing. He skirted the open area and made his way further up through the canyon, finding himself in a dry wash that would be full of rushing water come springtime. He moved up quietly through the wash, careful not to send loose rock falling and making his

presence known. He still had the advantage of surprise with him, and he wanted to make full use of it. He topped a rise and found himself looking down into a canyon. Here the smoke smell was stronger, and he could see wisps of it floating up from what looked like a small campsite in the distance. He lay on his stomach, and tried to focus his eyes on the smoke. They were still a ways away, and he would be exposed if he tried to stay on top of the canyon. He needed to make his way down a slight slope, then hide in the boulders that had gathered about two-thirds of the way down the grade. Slowly he made his way down, keeping his eyes on the smoke wisp and what was in front of him. Sound would travel far in these canyons, and he had to be extra careful not to give away his position. Soon he was among the boulders, and still the fire was a fair distance away. He could make out one or two forms but that was all. They had their backs to the canyon wall under a small overhang that shielded them from directly above and to their right side. His only disadvantage would be that he would have to assault them from in front, and here they had the advantage. Four guns against one usually won out in these kinds of matches.

By this time the sun was directly overhead. The heat was building in the canyon, as the wind would barely carry through it. He could almost hear the men talking if he listened very carefully. There had to be a different way in here, because they had made it in with their horses. They were going to stay here until the ruckus quieted down in town, which meant that he had to make this quickly, for he only had supplies for a day or two. On he moved, slithering against the canyon walls and hiding behind rocks when he could. Soon he could hear them clearly, talking amongst themselves. When the hell we getting outta here, Red? asked one voice Another day or two, keep your shirt on, answered his companion. The saloons and women will be waitin when we leave. Yeah, well, I say we get the hell outta here today. No one will track us up here, and I vote we go now. Since when was this a voting matter, Jud? Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut, ya hear? The man named Jud just mumbled something incomprehensible and picked up a loose stone and threw it against the wall. Sittin here like a bunch of buzzard bait, he barked angrily. We should be in

downtown Tombstone livin it up right now, instead of bein up here in these damn mountains waiting for em to come get us! The man named Red spoke again. Well, if youre so damn unhappy, then leave. Well be happy to split your share among us three. He laughed loudly. If not, then shut the hell up! John moved in closer, careful not to dislodge any loose rocks and give away his presence. He figured he was within fifty feet of the men when he heard another voice speak up. Both of ya shut the hell up, said a much deeper voice. Were gonna stay put til I say we move, ya got that? Both men mumbled their agreement. Apparently they didnt want no trouble with this feller. Now go and gather more wood for the fire, and quit your gripin! From his hiding spot John saw two figures mount up on their horses and head back the way he had come, then turn off to enter a small opening in the far canyon wall. So thats how they got up here, he thought to himself. The opening was just wide enough for a man and a horse to get through without all the climbing he had done. As soon as they were both gone from sight, he climbed a little higher on the ledge and scooted back amongst some boulders and scrub and sat down to wait.

Down below he could hear the clicks of a gun being loaded, while he heard a rifle being taken apart, most likely to be cleaned from all this infernal dust out here. Suddenly John heard a shot! Did they know he was here, or just target shooting? He held his breath and waited on the ledge, trying to burrow himself deeper under the rocks to keep from being spotted. Then another shot, and another. No, they couldnt know that he was here, or hed be full of bullet holes by now. Must be target shooting, or shooting at some animal that had the misfortune of getting trapped down there with them. Two of them gone, and two left down below. When should he make his move? He thought about it seriously for several moments until he heard the thunder of horses hooves on the rocky plain getting closer and closer. The men must have gathered firewood in a hurry, he figured. Then he realized his mistake. His horse! Hed left it down in among the brush. Dammit! Theyd found his horse, and would soon be looking for him. The horses and their riders got closer and closer, and finally one of the riders spoke to their leader. Simp, we got trouble. We was gatherin the firewood and saw a saddled horse

down by the waterin hole! The men got off their horses and unholstered their guns. John could almost feel their eyeballs boring through the rock ledge straight into him. Damn, anyways! He should have left the horse lower on the slope. Now his surprise was blown but good! Somebody done come up here, said the one named Red. Probably watchin us right now! Okay, dont panic, said Simp. Go lookin around and if you find him you bring him to me, dont kill him yet! He heard as the men scattered in all directions. The most obvious places theyd look were behind rocks and such, and maybe he had time enough to find another hiding spot before they searched above their camp on the ledge. He took one final look around the rock, didnt see anything, and made his move to the right where some scrub lay. He figured he could hide in there for a little while, anyway, until they found him. He needed an advantage, and he needed one quickly! He just lay quiet for awhile and soon heard scraping sounds coming from below him. He held his breath and didnt move a muscle. He was trapped like an animal. They knew that someone was here, but didnt know

who. And with the badge on his chest, they probably wouldnt hesitate to kill him, to shoot him in the back like some yellow-bellied cowards that they were. His only hope that death would come quickly. Why the hell did he put himself into these situations? Hed found that ever since his family died he had been taking a lot of chances, that he was gambling on life. One of these rolls of the dice would be his last. He looked off to his left. There was the boulder that he had just come from behind, and off to his right was the flat ledge. Behind him was some more scrub oak on a small slope and he figured that it would be his best bet to hide. He scrambled out of his hiding spot and climbed quickly up the slope, being careful not to make any noises. Once on top, he dropped himself flat on his stomach and just listened, his heart beating hard inside his chest. He took a peek over the ridge, and saw that one of the men was investigating the climb up to the ledge, looking for tracks. He came up, six-gun drawn, and looked around. Not seeing anything, he went back down the grade to his companions. Nothin up there, Simp. He heard the other man grunt.

Then where in the hell is he? Hes around here somewheres. John kept looking at the spot that the man had just went down. As far as he could see it was the only spot that one could get on top of the ledge. Soon another, a bigger, man came up the slope and he instantly recognized the eyes. It was the robber who had looked at him. This must be the one they call Simp. He was a big feller, standing six and a half feet tall, with black hair. His face had scars on it, probably from a life of fighting and living hard. He carried his pistol in one hand and a whiskey bottle in the other. He looked around, downed the contents of the bottle, and threw it down on the rock ledge, where it smashed. Well, Ill be damned Red! For once youre right, theres no one here! John watched as he turned around and went back down the slope. Then where the hell is he? His horse is just down the canyon aways, so he has to be around here somewhere. Just then John heard a click behind him. He turned around slowly, and his arms went into the air. He knew the sound of a hammer being drawn back. Hes up here, Simp! hollered the one called Jud. Hidin in the bushes! Then the man started laughing. John looked at him, and the man just stood there

with his gun pointed at his head. He knew this was it then. Bring him down here! Simp said. Now John knew he was in deep trouble. Once again he was a captive of some outlaw gang. Slowly he got to his feet, and stumbled down through the saplings and made his way down to the floor of the canyon, where they all could get a good look at him. Simp recognized him instantly. Well, well, well, he said derisively. I know this fella. Ran into him in the bank. His eyes slanted evilly. And hes a lawman too. How nice! Bring him over here! he ordered. Jud and Red grabbed him by the arms and pulled him over to a rock outcropping, where they tied him up and took his gun. The men had just finished roasting a rabbit that they had shot earlier that day, and John realized how hungry he was once he smelled the roasted meat on the spit. He had forgotten to eat lunch. Go grab his horse, Jud, said Simp, and bring it on up here. Once we get ready to leave we can use it as a pack mule. This here fella wont need it no more! Then he too, started laughing at John. Whats wrong with you, boy? You havent learned your lesson, have you?

John finally had the nerve to speak back to them. You kill me, youll be hunted the rest of your days, he said finally. You wont be able to rest near a civilized town. Simp smiled at him. No one will know youre missing for a coupla days, pal, and after that well be long gone into Mexico by then. Jud soon showed up with Johns horse. Load the supplies onto this horse here, said Simp, and make sure hes tied down good and tight. Were leaving as soon as were loaded up. John was kicked violently in the back by the big man. He felt like a trapped animal. They were going to torture and kill him, and for what? For holding up a bank. The man kicked him again, and this time John fell onto the rocky floor of the canyon. He got up with scraped knees and knuckles, but otherwise said nothing. He was turned roughly around and tied up to a stalagmite sticking out of the canyon floor, and this time the rope was wrapped around his entire chest as well. He wouldnt be able to move if he wanted to. Now fella, this wont hurt but a little bit, said Simp, and gave John a roundhouse that split his lips wide open. Blood poured freely from wounds that had just begun to heal.

The man named Red spoke up. Simp, we got company, and pointed with his rifle barrel in the direction of the small entrance canyon. Everyone looked in the indicated direction to see a single man on horseback riding towards them. John squinted through his eyes and could just barely make out who it was. It was Jim Patterson!

Chapter 11 As with all men, greed and curiosity soon got the better of the sheriff, and he asked to see one of the supposed coins that Tom had. The man fished it out of his pocket and handed it to him. He took a look at it, wiped it off with his sleeve, and bit into it. The teeth imprints told him all he needed to know. Well, Sheriff, do we have a deal or dont we? Tom asked the lawman. The sheriff looked at him, and turned around and got the jail keys off the hook in his office. He chose one from amongst several on the ring, inserted it into the lock, and turned it. The bar door swung open. Okay son, but no funny stuff. Ill be armed and you wont, so dont try anything. You have a deal, Tom said, and reached down on the bed to retrieve his hat. Well need some supplies from the general store, though. You write down what we need, and Ill go get them, said the sheriff. And Im sure you have a way to pay for whatever it is you think well need?

I am going to use one of the coins. I really dont have any other choice. Besides, if that rumor about the lost Spanish treasure is true, we wont ever have to worry about finances again. Just use the one I gave you for compensation to the storekeeper. And dont say where it came from. Ok, how about that list? He sat down at a dilapidated table, and proceeded to write out a list of supplies they would need. Tobacco, food, some rope, and some utensils for the sheriff. He gave the list to the lawman, and he walked out the door. Tom just sat there, eyeballing his surroundings. He was in a small office with a potbellied stove, brickwork for walls, and several wanted posters tacked up. The coffee pot still sat on the stove, and he refilled his cup. He sat there sipping his coffee, and wondering how the hell he was going to pull this one off. He still had to prove his innocence. Maybe the man he shot in the shoulder would still be in the tunnels. The dead man should still be there, he thought. Maybe that would convince the sheriff to see his point of view. Soon the lawman came back with the supplies he had written. They proceeded to

load everything up on their horses, and the sheriff reached up on the wall and took down a rifle, just in case. He grabbed some extra ammo boxes for it too. Soon the two were on their way out of town, with Lefty leading the pair. The sheriff still didnt trust him, so he decided hed just play it safe for now and see what happened. Another pair of eyes watched the two head towards the mountain path, and the look he had was venomous. Manuel de Garcia swore hed get his revenge on the man who shot him, and killed his brother Juan. He would heal a couple of days, then follow the two into the hills, and may God help them when he found them!

Tom and the sheriff slowly made their way back to the cave entrance where the gold coins had been found. He reined in his horse, and tied him up to the same gnarled branch as before. The sheriff tied his horse off, then went over to inspect the opening in the side of the mountain. There were fresh tracks here, like someone dragging a foot behind them. Tom

inspected the tracks, and noticed that there were droplets of blood as well. He guessed that the man he shot in the shoulder had finally made his way out. The tracks ended at the place where he originally fell through the wooden planks some time before. He made his way down, and sure enough, only one man was there, the dead man. See, sheriff, this here is one of the pair of gunslingers that tried to lynch me at my other claim, he said. The sheriff bent down to search the dead man for any identity but only found a few bills in his pocket. This doesnt prove anything, he told Tom. All it proves is that you shot and killed another man. This just kept getting worse, he thought. He tried to change the subject. This is the tunnel that I found the gold coins, he said, and pointed to the left opening. He started to go down the tunnel, but the sheriff got up and grabbed his arm. Just a minute there partner, he said. Weve got a dead man here, no identity, and just your word saying he was one of the three that tried to hang you. How do I know you dont have something down that tunnel there that you can use to kill me? Sheriff, I give you my word, I wont try to hurt or kill you, said Tom. I just want back what was mine in the first place, and to find the treasure of the Spaniards,

which I do believe exists somewhere in this mountain, maybe in one of these very tunnels. He reached out with his hand to prove his intentions, and warily the sheriff took it. Alright, son, well just see how it goes, he said sardonically. Hed been around for a long time, and had seen just about all the tricks. Somehow though, his gut didnt tell him that this would be one of those times. Where do we go from here? he asked. I would suggest the left tunnel, sheriff, thats where I found the coins, he answered. He still had four of the precious coins in his possession. Hopefully soon he would have a lot more. He didnt mind sharing the treasure with someone, as long as that someone was somewhat honest and trustworthy. Why be greedy, he thought. Besides, another pair of eyes watching his back was in his best interests at the moment. Back in town, Manuel told the doctor to send the bill to Dekes father for fixing his shoulder up. Goddam, it hurt. He had given him some pain medication, but it didnt seem to be helping much. Hed go over to the saloon, and maybe a few shots of rye would help even more.

He walked in the swinging double doors, and everyone in there took a look. For a minute he thought he had a wanted poster of himself, they were staring for so long. Then he realized they were just looking at his shoulder bandage. He walked up to the bar, and placing some coins on its polished surface, ordered a drink. Sure, mister, said the bartender. He served up Manuels drink, putting a napkin underneath the glass. He watched as the Mexican gunslinger gulped it down, then pointed to his glass for a refill. Manuel would drink a few of these, and get his fire really going. He would kill the man who tried to kill him, and the one who did kill his brother Juan. Revenge was going to be bittersweet for him. He didnt know how he was going to tell Juans wife that he was dead. It didnt matter that they broke the law, they brought in money to feed their families. Somehow it just didnt seem right to him, that his family should be left to beg and go hungry while these white men walked around with plenty of coins in their pockets. Well soon, his pockets would be bulging with coins, and then he would go back and they would live a better life than they had. He drank his second shot and motioned for a third. He looked around the saloon.

There were about a dozen people in here this time of day, most sitting around tables with cards in their hands. The smell of several different tobaccos permeated the air, while the smoke gently curled upwards and swirled around the ceiling fan that lazily circled overhead. He caught a whiff of some beef being cooked, and his stomach growled. When was the last time hed eaten? Hell if I know, he thought, but damn, that sure smells good. He decided hed order a steak and some potatoes before he drank too much. With the mission he had in mind, he sure didnt need to get drunk. While he was waiting, he figured hed ask the barkeep a few questions. Who that white man come here all cut up? You should know, stranger, was the reply. Oh, no, senor, seems to be some kind of gringo. Look what he did to me. Well, senor, maybe you got what you deserved, way I hear it, said the bartender, not stopping his washing of his glasses. He liked an orderly, well-kept bar, not some of the slums that prevailed in other towns. He did have a conscience, however. The meal needs to be paid for up front. No credit, he added The Mexican smiled at him, a toothy white smile, and tossed several coins on the bar.

The bartender eyed it, decided it was enough, and rung it up on the cash register. Damned if hed be ripped off again by one of these goddam gunslingers. Seems like they were everywhere nowadays, hiring for the highest dollar offered and no questions asked. Helluva way to make a living. He grabbed the whiskey bottle and sat down at a table. Blowing the dust off, he figured it hadnt been used in awhile. He purposely picked this one because he could see who came in or out. He left his gun unslung just in case that sonuvabitch walked in here. He was going to kill him, come hell or high water. The potatoes were good, the steak even better, well worth what he paid for the meal. It was medium rare, just like he liked it, and he savored every bite. Hed take a shot of the rye every now and then. By now he was getting that familiar warm feeling in his belly again, the one in which the fire water made him do some pretty crazy stunts. Last time he was on a whiskey drunk he spent the night in jail over in Gila Bend. He was having the greatest time of his life, dancing around with a pretty little thing and drinking his fill. Next thing he remembered was waking up on a cot surrounded by bars. And his

head was pounding. Well, he wasnt going to do that here, no sir. He had something important to do, some plans to make. He needed to go to the general store to get some supplies, too. His livery bill shouldnt be too much, and what he had left he figured he could make do until he killed that bastard and stole what was going to be his. He would go back to Tijuana a hero, with treasure galore, and would be the envy of even the Mexican president. He and his family would live the life they deserved to live, not in the ramshackle mud and tin huts that they called home now. No way, it was going to be much better, he thought to himself. A smile popped up on his face, his white teeth showing and black bushy eyebrows curled over cynically with the thought of the rich treasure that he figured was rightfully his. Well, maybe not rightfully, but his brothers death would damn sure not be for nothing, he swore. Not for all the pesos in Mexico City.

Tom led the way down the tunnel, with the sheriff following close behind. They had traversed about another two hundred feet when they came to another cave-in.

Looks like we have to dig some more, said Tom. He got down and started moving rocks to the side, and the sheriff soon followed suit. Soon they had an opening big enough for themselves to crawl through. The air on this side of the tunnel was getting cooler. It also smelled of dampness. Tom figured that parts of this tunnel had water in it, and another twenty feet or so and his guess was right. They came upon some water that filled that end of the tunnel. What now? asked the sheriff. We double back, then try to find soft spots in the walls on each side of this tunnel, said Tom. Suddenly a low grumbling sound hit their ears. I hope that was your stomach, he told the sheriff. I wish it was, answered the lawman. Methinks we are now in deep shit! The earth shook, and dirt and rocks came tumbling down in front of them. After about five minutes, the ground stopped shaking. Now they really were in deep shit. The tunnel entrance was effectively sealed off, and it would take them some time to dig themselves

out of this dilemma. Tom started to feel his way on his side of the tunnel for some soft spots that might give way to other tunnels. The sheriff, after a fit of coughing, started to do the same. After coming up to the water, neither man had found anything. Now they really were in a pickle. Should they go forward, through the water, taking a chance that it will lead to nowhere, or stay here and hope they stumble across another tunnel to get out of here? Tom decided for them. Im going in the water, I found a tunnel before by doing that, he said. The sheriff looked at him like he was crazy. Son, that water is colder than a witchs teet, might give you a heart attack halfway through. Itll be okay, Sheriff, wouldnt be the first time Ive had to do this in these caverns, he responded, not looking forward to getting soaking wet again. Well, he thought, do or die. Might as well get it over with. He hyperventilated to clean his lungs out, then took one last deep breath and jumped into the water. It felt like a thousand knives stabbing every inch of his body as he hit the water. He swam and swam, feeling nothing but rock above him. Finally, he surfaced in an air pocket which had formed. It wasnt much, about

three inches from the rock face, but it was air. He rested a few minutes, then took another deep breath and continued on. Five more hard strokes brought him onto a sandbar, and he found himself in another cavern. This time, however, it was a cavern of beauty. Not only for the air it gave him to breathe, but ten feet in front of him sat two crates, very old by the looks of them. He was shivering as he walked up the sand, not only from the cold but from excitement as well. Had he found the Spaniards lost treasure finally? He walked up to the first cask he came to. It had an old rusty lock on it. He searched around, and found a rock about the size of a coconut to beat the lock off. He swung at it, hit it, and was rewarded with a dull thud. He hit it again, this time creating a spark. A fire would be nice right about now, he thought. Im freezing! He hit it a third time, and the rusty lock fell off in pieces. Carefully he moved forward on his knees, and slowly opened the chest. What would he find? Would it be the lost treasure he had been seeking? Only one way to find out. Slowly he opened it up. It had a musty leathery smell to it, as if it had been

here for many, many years. The contents made him shiver in anticipation, for there were gold necklaces, jewels, some gold coins, and many other items in gold and silver. Oh my god, he thought, Ive found it! Now, how the hell was he going to get it back across the underground tunnel? He would have to swim back with just a handful of items to prove to the sheriff that he had indeed found the Spaniards lost treasure. Quickly he gathered some items and put them in his knapsack. He would prove to the sheriff that this treasure did exist. How they would get it through the watery tunnel, they would have to figure out. Oh well, thought Tom, could be worse. He started swimming back to the tunnel, having to stop for air at the midpoint. He continued on, and broke water with a man staring worriedly at him. He looked at him and gave him a smile. Ive found the jackpot, Sheriff! Tom exclaimed excitedly. I need you to help me get it across here. He climbed up out of the water, and opened his knapsack. In it were gold coins, rubies, emeralds, and pearls, treasures which had lain dormant for many hundreds of years, and which would bring their owners much wealth. The sheriff marveled at the treasures, for he had never seen such riches. Hed been

paid to protect them, not look at them. But now, he found that he could put his daughter through college, and still live comfortably with his wife for the rest of their natural born lives. Okay, son, what do we do now? he asked him. He still wasnt a hundred percent sure about this deal. His lawmans intuition told him to keep his eyes open. First we get it all across, said Tom, then we carry it to the horses, load it up in the saddlebags, and head for town. I thought you wanted to prove your innocence in the Harrington case, the sheriff reminded him. Oh shit, he thought, Id forgotten about that. I do, Sheriff. Only one man can tell the truth about what happened, and hes gone. Might be in town for all I know, getting patched up. So when we get back to town, we need to talk to Doc Wallace. How about this: we leave the treasure where it is for now, go back into town, get your name cleared, and then come back when all this is behind you? the sheriff suggested. That sounds like a plan to me, said Tom, immediately regretting his stupidity. Once this monkey was off his back he could take his time, do it right, and not worry about anything or anybody. The only problem he was worried about now was the man hed shot in the shoulder. Where was he? Was he up here looking for him, or was he hiding

out in town? Or did he leave town? No, he didnt leave. Hed want revenge against Tom for leaving him for dead, and killing his partner. Maybe he didnt yet know about Deke. Either way, hed have to deal with the man sooner or later, and with a murder charge already against him, that was another issue he didnt need to bother him at the moment. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to him, the very person he didnt want to see was already in town planning his revenge.

Manuel walked out of the saloon, a belly full of supper and whiskey. He walked through the swinging doors, and the heat of day hit him like walking into a blast furnace. He burped contentedly and walked down the boardwalk to his left until he came to a bench, then sat down. How was he going to do this if the sheriff was with him? He had no quarrel with the lawman; he just wanted the other one dead. An eye for an eye, his father always told him, no matter what, especially if family was involved. Well, the man had killed his brother, and he would have to pay his debt with his own blood. He reached into his shirt pocket for the cigarillo he had stashed there. He lit up,

albeit a bit difficult with only the use of one arm. Thats another thing the bastards gonna pay for, he thought, for shooting me. Good thing it wasnt his shooting hand that was laid up. Hed gotten lucky there, he figured. Either way, the gringo was going to pay for what hed done to him and Juan. Hed found out about Deke while talking in the saloon. Whiskey had a way of loosening mens tongues, and the skinny man hed struck up a conversation with at the bar was singing like a bird. He told all about the man who got arrested for Dekes murder, and that him and the sheriff had taken a gander out of town early in the morning. He figured, at the very least, that he should pay Dekes father a visit; he still owed him half the money he promised, and maybe he could make a bit more killing the bastard for him. After all, that was what the game was all about, wasnt it? He got up and walked down the boardwalk to the bank. He opened the double door and walked in, the coolness immediately refreshing. Fans circled lazily on the ceiling, keeping it cool for the people who worked here. He waited until the teller was done

with the current customer, then walked up to her. Afternoon, maam, I need to talk to Mr. Harrington, he said politely, smiling his best toothy smile. The effect on the young girl was immediate, for she started blushing, her eyes turning down coquettishly. She was a pretty thing, Manual thought. Blonde hair tied up in a bun, with sparkling hazel eyes and wearing an ankle-length red and white dress. May I ask who is calling on him, sir? she asked. Tell him its a friend of his sons, and I have a business proposition Id like to run by him, Manuel answered evasively. One moment, sir, and Ill see if hes available. She walked towards the back of the bank, towards a door with the word MANAGER painted on the glass. She knocked three times, and opened the door and glided in. Two minutes later, she came out, followed by an older man with white, bushy hair. He was well-dressed in the manner of any banker, with a gold watch in one breast pocket. He walked around the counter and stuck out his hand. John Harrington, how may I help you? he asked, his gravelly voice reverberating with a deep bass-like sound.

Manuel extended his hand. My name is Manuel, senor, and I was one of your sons partners in his mining adventures. Oh, I see, said the old man. Legitimate business ventures or not? Senor, I am an honest, simple man. All I want from this world is an honest days work, for honest pay. Your son, my brother and myself acquired claims that had appeared to have been abandoned. So what can I do for you, senor Manuel? asked the banker. It was more of an order than a request. Well, you see, senor, Mr. Deke owed me some money. He hired my brother and I for protection, so to speak, and we received only half of what was owed for our services. How much are we talkin about? the elder Harrington asked. He was almost afraid to ask; Deke was a spoiled brat from day one, something he truly regretted. He should have taught the boy some manners; he might be alive today if he did. We agreed upon $500 apiece, senor, said Manuel. Ill give you $200, then you get the hell out of town. The look on his face was one where his price was nonnegotiable. Perhaps I can offer you my services as well, senor, said Manuel. As you can see, the man that killed your son also shot me. He also killed my brother, and I aim to avenge Juans death with his blood.

Perhaps my son got what he deserved, said the banker unexpectedly. Manuel did not foresee this happening. He pictured an angry father hell-bent on revenge, willing to pay any price to hang the man that killed his son. Your son did nothing wrong, senor, lied Manuel. Hed tell the old man anything to make a buck, and would gladly kill the gringo who shot him for five dollars. But he was in a position to make a lot more than that. He was merely an innocent bystander who was dry-gulched by a stranger. John Harrington looked at him, deep piercing blue-grey eyes, stroking his beard thoughtfully. Give me until tomorrow to think about it, and Ill let you know my decision then. Very well, senor, said Manuel. Ill be staying in a room above the saloon if you need me any further. With that, the elder Harrington turned on his heel and walked back into his office, slamming the door so hard it rattled the glass. The young teller looked frightened. Manuel flashed another charming smile to her, and walked out of the bank, his business concluded. Soon, my friend, soon we will meet, and this time you are the one that will lay in the sand spilling your blood, he thought evilly. It put a smile on his face to picture avenging his brother this way. Hed had enough of these damn gringos. He just wanted a

pocketful of money and a way home, to go back to his wife and son. He walked back to the saloon, and asked for a room. He paid the bartender, got his room key, and proceeded to order himself a whiskey. Might as well drink my fill tonight, he mused, because tomorrow I am on the trail of Juans killer, and perhaps earn a few coins in the long run. After his third shot, he bought himself a bottle, sat down at a table, and continued drinking. Soon his belly was full of the liquid fire, and it was time to sleep it off. With the sheriff out of town, he could do whatever he wanted. Should he try to rob the bank? No, that would be foolish. Best wait until all this had settled down before he pulled a stunt like that. He just thought of killing one man, and a smile broke out on his face. Thats it, he decided, Ill leave in the morning, and when I find the gringo, bang! Not only will I avenge Juan, but I will have more coins in my pocket too! He laughed to himself all the way up the stairs, carrying his bottle and room key. When he got to the assigned door, he unlocked it and went inside. Putting the half-empty bottle on the nightstand, he took his gunbelt and boots off and was soon sound asleep.

Sunlight shone bright through the dusty window of his room. Manuel shook his head, clearing the cobwebs of last nights drinking bout, and sat up in bed. He looked out the window at the clock on top of the bank. 9:37. Time to get up and talk to the old banker about a job. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his boots. He put them on, and stood to put his gunbelt back on. Then, on not quite steady feet, he walked over to the washbasin on the other table in the room and rinsed off his face. The cold water felt good, waking him up. He looked in the rather shabby mirror, seeing the red eyes, droopy eyelids, and several day-old stubble on his face. Oh well, he thought. He wasnt here for a contest for the good-looking. He chuckled at his joke, then opened the door and walked out into the hallway. He went down the stairs, walked up to the bar, and asked for a whiskey. He drank it, slammed the shot glass on the polished mahogany bar, and walked out through the double swinging doors of the saloon. He walked along the boardwalk until he was across

the street from the bank, then stepped off the creaky planking and with dust swirls in his footsteps, approached the door to the financial institution. Harrington met him at the door. Do you know who is out there? The sheriff is with that man, and he has until tonight when he swings from the gallows. Manuel wanted to calm the man. Senor Harrington, please, I aim to ride up into the mountains today, after I leave here, to find that sonufabitch who murdered my brother. Harrington seemed undisturbed. Heres what my son owes you. You bring me his head and I will give you another five hundred. He handed him a wad of bills. Manuel smiled his most white-toothed smile. Senor, I will be more than happy to present his head to you! With that, he tipped his hat and walked out of the bank, heading for the general store. He figured hed better pick up some supplies, and then head out as fast as possible to catch the gringo in the act of whatever it was he was up to. He was loading up his horse when he spotted two riders coming into town from the direction of the mountains. He squinted his eyes, but between the distance and the dust they were raising he couldnt tell who it was. Soon his whole plan went down the river. It was the sheriff and the gringo, coming back into town. Goddam, he thought. What the

hell am I going to do now? They went past him, and stopped in front of the general store. They dismounted and walked in the building. Manuel eyed them with suspicion. Something is brewing, something theyre not telling anyone, he thought. No one comes back for no good reason. Perhaps they had found something up there in the hills. He needed to find out. He mounted his horse, and headed west towards the mountains, intent on finding out whatever those two had been up to. Their buying done, they proceeded to load everything into their saddlebags. They watched a dusty plume leave town, obviously in a hurry. Not paying any attention, Tom looked at the sheriff and suggested they talk to Doc Wallace. Perhaps he might shed a light on the mystery of the wounded man. They walked over the old, creaky boardwalk to the doctors office. Tom opened the door, with the now familiar bell ringing in their appearance. They walked in, and the doctor soon made his way in from the back room. What can I do for you, Sheriff? he asked. Oh wait, let me guess; probably about the man that left here yesterday, isnt it? Perplexed, the sheriff looked at him. What are you talkin about? There was a man comin in here yesterday, shot in the shoulder, explained the doctor. I patched him up best I could, figured it wasnt my business to know what

happened to him. Tom looked at the sheriff. Its him, he said. One of the three that tried to drygulch me, he added. The sheriff looked at the doctor. What did he look like? Oh, about this tall, he said, indicating about a foot above his head, with a scar on his right cheek, and a mouthful of pearly whites. By chance was he shot in the left shoulder? asked Tom. He wanted to find out for sure if this was his man or not. Yes he was, answered the doctor. Had a nasty scratch on his cheek too, looked pretty recent. Tom looked at the sheriff, and said, Thats the one. Tom and the sheriff thanked the doctor for his time. They crossed the boardwalk into the street, going towards the saloon for a drink or two. The sky was getting a bit cloudy, with some dark skies on the horizon. Storm brewing up, said the sheriff. We might as well stay the night. Okay, said Tom. How about a few drinks to relax? Ill have one or two, thats about it for me, said the sheriff. I dont need to be all snookered up. Gotcha, answered Tom. They walked through the swinging doors, entered the saloon, and ordered their drinks. It was fairly busy tonight, with a couple of card games going on on several tables in the place. They took one look at the sheriff,

and decided to play it straight, no matter what. It was a house rule that once a game was started, all firearms were to be handed to the bartender for safekeeping. That way, the death toll would be a lot less than what it normally would be. Tombstone, Arizona was famous for that kind of thing. Boot Hill was a place a stranger usually wound up in, whether intentional or not. Men would be killed on the spot for cheating at cards, or even for looking at another man the wrong way. That was the way it was out here in the West. No one put up with anyone elses bullshit. Soon the sheriff left. He had to check on his duties, see if anyone else needed to be tossed in the clink for the night. God knew there was enough of the drunken bastards, he thought. Maybe tonight I can get some peace and quiet. So far so good, he reached his office without so much as a complaint about a horse pooping in the middle of the road and someone stepping in it. Maybe it will be a calm night. However, something the doctor told him was eating at his conscience. The man hed fixed up swore revenge upon a miner who had killed his brother. Could that be his

current partner? He wasnt sure, but he wouldnt take any chances, either. He decided to look up the doctor and talk to him while he had the chance. He knocked on the doctors door. Nothing. He tried the knob. It was locked. Hed try again in the morning, he didnt want to disturb the man if he was sleeping. He just wanted to ask some routine questions, and it could wait until then. Besides, he was bonetired himself, and turned and walked away to go home, back to his wife, eat some dinner, and go to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. Hed have to talk to the doctor, then go get Tom from his room at the saloon, and the two of them would head back into the mountains to reclaim their found treasure before someone else took up a mind to do it. Little did he know that someone else already had a mind to take what they had found, along with taking his partners life. Manuel saw the sheriff leave the doctors office, and closed the curtain. He laid back in bed, and smiled to himself. No, the doctor wont be in tonight, or tomorrow as well. He had seen to that. No one could pin anything on him, and

tomorrow the white gringo would be dead as well.

Chapter 12 He slowly made his way towards the gang of outlaws. When he was within spitting distance, he stopped his horse and dismounted. John looked at him and breathed a sigh of relief. Damn Jim, am I glad to see you! Jim looked over at the bleeding man. No, I dont think you will be, son. You see, Im the boss of these here fellers, and using my badge gives us an advantage. John could hardly believe his ears. Jim Patterson, Federal Marshal, a traitor? What the hell, Jim? Why? A lawmans pay isnt worth the paper its printed on, son. With this little setup I can retire a helluva lot quicker than I could doin it the legal way. But the mine.. That was me, of course, said Jim. I took some nuggets outta there that will definitely add to my account, and plus the takes we get from stages and banks will make us rich enough so that we can retire to the sunny beaches of Mexico, each with a little senorita on our arms. Despite his pain, John was enraged. Not only had he befriended this man, but he

thought he could trust him. Now he found out he was being stabbed in the back by the one person he thought was his friend. Now it all made sense. You dirty back-stabbing bastard! he spluttered, spitting out blood and his fury. How could he be so gullible? You wont get away with this, Jim, if that is your real name. My hands will come looking for me sooner or later! Sure they will, son, but by that time well be long gone. He looked at Simp. Everything ready? The big man just nodded at him. Okay then, lets go and get our senoritas! The rest of the men mounted up and together as a group made their way down through the narrow canyon pass that they came up through. John could do nothing but scream in fury and in pain. They had tied the rope tighter this time, and he found that he could not struggle against his bonds very much. He needed to get out of here though. The buzzards would soon be flying overhead awaiting their next meal. Jud took the point through the narrow pass, and following him was Red, Simp, Jim, and bringing up the rear was Willy. He was a Mexican they used as a guide and tracker and once

they got out of this territory he would take over the point from Jud and lead them to their siestas in Mexico. He was a quiet man, but his guns spoke louder than any voice ever did. How much was the take from the bank? asked Jim. About ten thousand, answered Simp. And with your nuggets, we shall live to the ends of our lives rich men! Oh, were not quite done yet, Simp. Theres gonna be a stagecoach comin through town tomorrow night that is carrying the Army payroll for Fort Yuma, and were going to get it. How much? he asked. Not sure, but it should be in the fifty to sixty thousand dollar range. Then both men started laughing, knowing that they had gotten away with it. They ambled on down the worn path through the mountains towards the base to where theyd make camp for the night, and then rob the stagecoach when it came through tomorrow morning. They just needed to make sure they were all in position at the right time. There were going to be armed guards riding this stage, and they couldnt afford any mistakes. John couldnt believe his crappy luck. He set out to do the right thing, and once again had let

himself get captured. He struggled some more with the rope, but found it to be futile. They had made sure that it was tied tightly. If only there was some way to get just one arm out, he could loosen the rest of the rope and be free. He looked around him, looking for some piece of sharp rock or something that was within reach. He soon spotted one that might work, but it was too far to reach for him. He wiggled some more and tried to puff out his chest some. He had heard about that trick working for some people and wondered if it would work for him. He took a deep breath and held it for a little while, then exhaled. He did it twice more, and the ropes seemed to loosen up just a bit. He wiggled his left arm, and finally slipped it out of the rope. He leaned towards his left side, and found that he could finally reach the stone with his arm free. He grabbed the stone and started slicing through his bonds. After a few minutes he had to rest. The heat was getting to him, and he was sweating profusely. His concentration kept wavering. He knew getting out of here was his first problem. He would still need to find a way to make it to town, and he didnt have any water with him. They had taken it when they took his horse with

them. He started to saw back and forth on the ropes again, and soon one strand broke through, followed by several more. He got his other arm free and tore the ropes from his body. He stood up, and retreated into the shade the overhang offered, looking for something that he could use. There of course was nothing but the still smoldering fire that they had used to cook their dinner with. John started walking across the canyon floor towards the narrow passage, determined to make it through. He had to get help and track down these hombres. He aimed for the passage and just plodded along, one foot in front of the other. He had to make it, he couldnt rest, no matter how bad he wanted to. After about a half hour walk he made it to the entrance and started his way through. Maybe he would be able to find some water once through this small canyon. He looked up at the sky and saw that the canyon walls towered above him. He could hear the chirping of birds and the thud of rocks on his boots as he made his way deeper into the canyon. After what seemed to him like an eternity, the world before him opened up with a panoramic view of the desertscape far down below him. Trees and bushes appeared around him, and he

immediately started looking for signs of water. His mouth was parched and dry, and even swallowing was difficult. He had to make it, he just had to. There was no way that as long as he was alive was he going to let those men, especially Jim, get away with this. He soon spotted a small spring that fed down from the mountaintops, and eagerly cupped his hands and drank the precious liquid. After he had drunk his fill, he stood up to survey his surroundings. He was in the small glade where he had tied up his horse. Now he had to make his way down the mountain and across miles of desert before he got to the town. He thought he could see it off in the distance, but it mustve been the heat playing tricks on his eyes. Down the rock-strewn trail he went, passing familiar clumps of greenery and trees lining the path downward to the base of the mountain. By the time he reached the bottom, it was nearly dark, and he figured hed better start making better time. Dead-tired and weary, he made his way across the desert, through cholla and scrub and miles of sand. His eyes kept on wanting to close for lack of sleep, and he was getting thirsty again.

Unfortunately he had nothing with him that he could carry water in. He did know that some cactus plants had water in them, but in the dark it was hard to spot the right ones. He was more concerned about snakes and scorpions, either of which would end his journey real quick. Daybreak found him walking along slower now. He was exhausted, and the dryness of his throat was as irritating as it was real. He looked up ahead of him and saw that his destination was still far away. He just put his head down, careful of where he was walking, and plodded on. With the rise of the sun came the heat. It started as a shimmery layer of air on the desert floor and worked its way up. Soon puffy cotton balls of clouds would form, giving him temporary respite from the heat of the suns rays. He stopped, and looked behind him. The mountains were off in the distance. He figured hed gone about five miles during the night, which wasnt much. But it was five miles closer to his destination than he was. Soon around midday his stomach started growling. He shrugged it off angrily, wanting water more than food right now. He needed to keep going if he was to survive. Several hours passed, and the town slowly came into view. He trudged along and was soon on the

boardwalk. People were looking at him strangely, as if hed just been dropped by an invisible stagecoach. He walked along the boardwalk until he came up to the saloon, then staggered into the cooler air inside. John! said a surprised voice. It was Julia, the owner of the saloon. With her red hair and green eyes, she looked just like Eliza did, except that she was a little taller. Where did you come from? Water, he croaked. She hurriedly gave him a glass, which he drained quickly. He asked for another. That one went just as fast. How about a beer, and you tell me whats going on. That sounded find to him. Got stuck up in the mountains chasing the men who robbed the bank last week. They caught me and took my horse, I been walkin ever since. He took the proffered stein and drained it in one gulp. Ah, thats much better, he said, wiping the foam off with the sleeve of his shirt. I need to borrow a horse, he exclaimed. You can use mine, if you want to honey, she said. Its over at the livery stable. Thanks, Julia, I owe you one, he said, and took off in the direction of the stable. Once there, he had her horse saddled, and quickly made his way to his ranch. Along the way he

was stopped by several armed guards. What the hell is going on here? he asked as Big Mike stepped out from behind some trees. We got some word that those bandits would be coming back here, he told John. Well, its possible, said John, but I believe theyre going to go after the stage tonight. They were talkin about it up in the hills. They took my horse, and Jims one of them. What? asked Mike incredulously. Are you sure? Sure as me sittin here talking to you, Mike, he answered. We need to warn the stagecoach company. They caught me up in the mountains and were talkin about more robberies and holdups. Now follow me to the ranch house, I have to talk to you and it dont concern no one else. Yes, sir, he said, and mounted his horse. Together the two men made their way towards the ranch house, running into several more hands hiding in the brush with rifles at the ready. Okay, Mike this is what I want you to do. I want half the hands guarding the mine, and the other half guarding the house here. You will come with me into town, and were going to telegraph the stagecoach company of whats going on. Then I want you to round up a posse and Ill get the sheriff

informed and ready. After that well play it by ear. You got it, boss, he said, and left the house to gather up the hands. John went into his room and changed clothes. By the time hed eaten a quick meal and dressed, Big Mike had all the hands going to their respective posts. He was on the porch waiting for him when John walked out the door. I need a fresh horse, he said to him, I had to borrow Julias from the livery. Mike took off and was soon back with another roan, saddled and ready. Okay, lets go. Together the two men rode down the trail towards town. Along the way were several of his hired hands, watching his property. These men deserve a raise, he thought, once we get through with all this mess. As Mike and him entered town, they found it strangely quiet. They stopped off at the livery first, dropped off Julias horse, then went back to the saloon. While Mike was having a beer, John walked over to the telegraph office to let the stagecoach company know what they were up against. Then he walked back to the sheriffs office and gave him an accounting of what had happened in the past couple of days. So Jims in on this, you say? he asked. I cant believe that. We grew up together,

no way would he do that. Believe what you want to, Sheriff, but its the truth, insisted John. Hes in cahoots with that gang, using his badge to throw the scent off of them and somewhere else. Im going to stay right here, he said. Until I know just what the hell is going on. Have it your way, then, said John, and slammed the door closed behind him. He walked down the boardwalk to the saloon, where in the meantime Mike had rounded up a good halfdozen men. Okay, you men, Mike explained things to you. Now if none of you wants to go I will respect his wishes. Other than that, Im in charge and what I say goes. Any takers? The men just looked at each other. Slowly two men walked out of the saloon, and eyeballs followed them out. Alright, said John. Thats two. What about the rest of you men? Again they all looked at each other. This time no one moved. Okay then. Have a beer on me and well figure out a game plan. The remaining men lined the bar and started drinking. John took his beer and swallowed it in one large chug. Then him and Mike found an unoccupied table and laid down the game plan. Okay, heres what were going to do. You take three men and scatter them on the

south side of the trail. Im going to take the remainder and wait along the route where I think the stage will be hit. Further up the trail theres some boulders and scrub, and I think thats where it will take place. Im going to try and push the stagecoach towards town. Once its here, I want you to commandeer it. Dont let no one take it anywhere. Get the soldiers off the coach and have them take the strongbox and wait in the bank. The back door will be open. Wait there until we get into town, and try and trap those men within the town limits. Ill try and steer them into town. After making sure Mike understood his plan, he got himself another beer. Then he went upstairs in the saloon and took a nap. Night was falling on the sleepy town. Soon the lights came on, and bathed the boardwalk in an eerie yellowish hue. The saloon was filling up with its evening gathering of patrons, socializing and drinking the night away. There was a melting pot of people coming and going, and those who were going were usually staggering out. There was a few that got thrown out, but they managed to shake it off and go their own way.

Sweetwater at night wasnt much different from any other town. The saloon was the center of night time activities, and the sheriff usually had his cells filled within the first few hours of business. He let them sleep it off, charged them a small fine for drunk and disorderly, and let them go about their business the next morning. Sir Archibald Kreasy was among the revelers, as he was pretty much every night of the week. With his impeccably groomed suit to his bulbous red nose, he looked like a cross between a butler and a circus clown. But the people of Sweetwater accepted him as one of their own, being in part for the revenue he helped to generate by running several mines and hiring out local folks versus claim jumpers. He was fairly wealthy, but you wouldnt know it if you talked to him. He was the proper gentleman at all times, drunk or sober. He would give anyone the shirt off his back if they were cold, especially the pretty saloon girls. One of them always ran off with one of his jackets. He kept the local tailor in business just by the sheer number of jackets he had custom-made for him. Tonight was no different, however. Sir Archibald was reveling in tales of the Far East to a saloon

girl named Shirley who had yet to claim tonights jacket, Julia was mingling among the customers, saying hello and how-are-yous, and John was having a drink with his men. The nap he took refreshed him immensely, and he felt pretty good tonight. He decided that he wanted a shot of whiskey to go with his beer. He ordered it, and as soon as it was poured it was tossed down his throat. Ah, he thought, the familiar old sting of the alcohol making the world around him more bearable. He still missed his family, especially when he saw Julia making the rounds. She was almost a deadringer for his deceased wife, and the thought of that hurt him tremendously. He mustnt let such thoughts ruin such a fine evening as this. He needed to keep his wits about him regarding the plan they had for tomorrow. He was going to get even with Jim and his gang of cutthroat robbers and thieves one way or the other, and having them tossed in jail would sure satisfy his yearning for revenge. His plan was to place four of his men inside the stagecoach, and bring the regular passengers into town along with the moneybox. Then when they hijacked it they would be surprised to find out that not

docile stage riders were inside but a group of well-armed men. Once they had the stage stopped, Johns men on both sides of the trail would slowly converge on the stopped stagecoach, trapping them within the circle. Then, when they were in between the men inside the stage and the men further out, they would close the pincer. A few men might die trying, but they were willing to sacrifice their lives to put an end to this menace. But in the meantime, the townspeople were reveling in theirown little celebration, happy to be as they were and happy that a steady stream of income was coming in through the mines and through Johns cattle business. The town was growing by leaps and bounds, and would soon be as big as Kansas City in a few years. But others had designs on the small town as well.

The four men sat around the campfire, discussing their parts of the raid for tomorrow. They would rob the stagecoach coming from Tucson, stopping in Sweetwater, then heading on to Fort Yuma with the Federal payroll strongbox attached to it. Jim would hold back, just so he wouldnt be identified if and when someone got caught. Then he

could tell the local law enforcement that he was his prisoner and was wanted in Kansas City for whatever crime he decided to come up with. That would save the mans neck. Simp was the brawn behind the brains. Being a big man, he was to grab the strongbox and rip it off the stage while the other three men held their guns to the stagecoach customers and Army detachment. Typically it would be a driver with two soldiers, but on this trip only one soldier would be present, hence the attempt. With an amount of between fifty and sixty thousand dollars at stake, they wanted to make sure their plan was foolproof. They sat around the fire eating their beans and jerky, and passing a whiskey bottle around. Simp slapped Red so hard on the back he darn near slammed him into the fire. He just got back up and sat back down. He didnt want no part of Simp; no one did. He was as bad as they came. Jud was the lightweight of the outfit. He was already sleeping on his bedroll as they were passing around their second bottle. His light snores were drowned out in the laughter and crackle of dry wood in the fire. Red was a fair-size gent, but he preferred to be led, not lead. He could

have brawn when he wanted to, but most of the time he was just a hired gun. Willy was the outfits tracker and guide. His real name was Jose Panuello, but Willy was an easier moniker to remember. He was the quiet man of the bunch. He could usually smell trouble a mile away, and the others would up and take care of it. He could also track a man through the desert as well as an Apache could; it was rumored that he had followed a man who broke out of Yuma Territorial for a month straight, going all the way to Los Angeles. There he shot the man in the kneecap and brought him back to Arizona. He was cool, calm and efficient. Jim Patterson was sick to death of the law. He had been a lawman for going on thirty for forty-eight years of his life and it was dull and didnt pay very much. He wanted to retire with some money, but even with a Federal Marshals income, he wouldnt be able to accomplish his goals. He ran into this bunch over in New Mexico. He was there to take a man back to Dodge City, Kansas to be hung. Idle talk turned into serious talk, and hed been a member of the group ever since, getting them out of numerous jails and out of several scrapes that otherwise they wouldnt have been able to

do. The man who he had come to get was Red for murdering a prostitute; the man who finally convinced him to join their little clique was Simp, short for Simpson. His full name was Thomas Gordon Simpson, but Simp had been his name since he was little. Hed been in and out of prisons and jails for most of his adult life, so nothing scared him anymore. He just wanted a nice chunk of money to tide him over for his retirement to Mexico. He was looking forward to being with a senorita and a tequila bottle. All the men were ready to head south, into Mexico. There they would be free from persecution and the United States Law. They figured on one more easy hit before heading down to the land of the Aztecs. Around midnight the last of them, Simp, fell asleep. He had drunk more than any one man in this party had drunk, and had stayed up the latest. No one could ever take that from him. He did need his rest, however. Come morning the stagecoach with the gold would be ripe for the taking, and he wasnt about to let that fall from his hand like so many grains of sand. Towards daybreak, Jud had revived himself, and was busy making a fire to heat

water for coffee. Soon Red was up, as was Willy, and Jim and Simp woke up a little while later. The smell of the coffee was good, and the early morning fire brought heat into the campsite. When we headin out to ambush that stagecoach? asked Red. Well let ya know, said Jim, quite disturbed about being questioned so much. At least in the lawmans creed he could expect a fellow lawman to obey his orders, but working with these outlaws tamed that wild beast. He would have to be careful. The men ate what was cooked for them and finished their coffee. Simp and Jim walked off to one side to talk to each other, away from the others ears. Jim lit a cigarette while listening to the big man, and glanced over at the others from time to time. How we gonna split everything? asked Simp. He had genuine concern in his eyes, and this was about the only time that he would. He was normally a very cruel man. Like I said, Simp, answered Jim. Well get rid of Jud and Red and that will leave just Willy against us. Once he gets us into Mexico hes dead meat. Okay, if you say so, the big man agreed. They would need to kill him last, because he was the only one who knew the secret trail out of here into Mexico. He would have to be

kept alive until after the border crossing. After that he was buzzard bait. Jud and Red started talking amongst themselves. What you plan to do with your share of the stash? asked Red. Well, Im not sure yet, answered Jud, but I would like to start a ranch somewhere where I can be left alone and in peace. Yeah, me too, just a nice quiet life. Im sick and tired of running and have nowhere to go, agreed Red. He longed for the quiet life himself. He just wanted to settle down, raise a family, and maybe some horses or cattle too. I have a bad feeling about this, Red Jud finally said. I dont know what it is, but I cant shake it. What do you mean? asked Red inquisitively. The look in his friends eyes answered his question for him. You mean being dry-gulched after this is over? His friend shook his head. Yeah, somethin like that. Well, Im not gonna worry about it none, but I will be keepin my eyes and ears open, my friend. Yeah, me too, Jud said, nervously looking in the direction of Simp and Jim.

The town slowly arose to the beginning of another hot, dusty day. John, Mike, and several others

were already up and eating breakfast, and were finishing their coffee when Sir Archibald came into the diner. Top of the mornin to ya, he said cheerfully. They mumbled their good mornings back to him. Then John looked at Mike. We have a couple of hours yet before we have to get set up. Take your men out of town and position them on the south ridge, just short of the junction. While youre doing that Ill take mine and well get set up on the high ground to the north. Right, boss, he said, and got up and left. John watched the big man go, then invited Sir Archibald to have a seat. Just tea for me, my friend. Todays going to be an interesting vision of the future, he stated. You got that right, John agreed. It will be an interesting day at that. Do you have enough men, John? asked Sir Archibald. I mean, do you think youll have enough hands to do the job and end this gangs terror on the land? I sincerely hope so, John said. I hope so. With that, he dabbed his mouth with his napkin and got up to leave. As he passed Sir Archibald, the man stood up and held out his hand. John reached out

and shook it. Luck of the Irish to ya. Thanks. Well need it. John left the diner, and walked down the boardwalk to the sheriffs office. He opened the heavy wooden door, and sat down across the desk from the sheriff. Were ready, sheriff, when you are. I still think youre wrong about Jim Patterson, the man said. He looked disheveled and seemed like he hadnt slept in several days. Ive known him since we was both kids, and I dont agree with what you said the other day. I dont make this accusation lightly, said John. He thought that Jim was a good man too, until he seen him come through that pass up in the mountains. When you headin out? Soon as everyone gets here, then were going to go get set up. John stood up, then stretched his lean body. He took his six-gun out of its holster and made sure the chamber was full. Then he grabbed a rifle from the rack on the wall and chambered several rounds into it. He also took a box of ammo and put it into a pouch he had brought with him, and slung it over his shoulder. This should hold us for awhile, he said. Then he took one last look at the sheriff and walked out into the

bright sunshine, closing the door behind him.

Chapter 13 Tom woke up to another bright sunny day. He got his boots on and walked downstairs into the saloon. Waiting for him at the bar was the sheriff with a grim look on his face. Whats wrong, Sheriff? he asked inquisitively, noting the look on the other mans face. Doc Wallace is dead, stabbed with a scalpel to his heart, said the lawman, the sign of strain on his face. His wrinkles seemed even more pronounced than usual. He had been up early that morning, with someone banging on his front door. The man said that his wife was going to see the doctor and the door was locked. The doctor was usually up well before dawn, and left his door unlocked for pretty much everyone to walk in. He mustve been tired, because everyone in town knew pretty well that the doctor never locked his door. That was the first sign of trouble. The sheriff went over and jimmied the door open, and they found him lying on his back with his own surgical scalpel

sticking out of his chest. Along with the pool of blood, they noticed that everything else seemed to be in its place. Robbery wasnt a motive. Then his eyes spotted what looked to be a cigarillo tip on the floor, next to the body. He didnt know offhand who in town smoked those particular cigars, but he would damn sure find out. You know, sheriff, said the bartender, that Mexican fella that was in here last night smoked something that sure looked a lot like the cigar youre describing. Any clue as to his whereabouts? asked the sheriff. No sir, he slept here last night, but he left earlier this morning, heading out of town. Well then, we need to find him. Which way did he go? He headed out of town towards the canyon, as far as I can figure, the barkeep answered. Looked like he was in a big hurry, too Okay, Tom, we need to find this fellow and quick. He was wearing a shoulder bandage, wasnt he Stan? Now that you mention it, yes he was, sheriff, said the barkeeper. He looked like he had something brewing in that head of his. I just wonder if he knows anything about that supposed treasure thats buried up in the mountains? The sheriff and Tom looked at each other. I think the treasure is his secondary goal,

because Im the target, Tom said. The sheriff just looked at him, and knew he was right. The gunslinger wouldnt take being shot at very lightly, and would have revenge on his mind. They guessed he didnt know about the treasure, but they werent sure how much he did know, either. Im the one that shot him and he wants his revenge. Well, I aim to give him a chance if he wants it that bad, said Tom. Now look son, lets not go starting something we cant finish, said the sheriff with a stern look on his face. As far as Im concerned, hes wanted for questioning involving a murder and we think that he was the last patient the doc had seen. That cigarillo on the floor was a mighty strong clue, and if we can match it up with him, hell swing for sure.

Manuel had made good time. He was in the canyon proper, and his shoulder was starting to bother him, just kind of a dull throbbing. He left town early, because he didnt want to be spotted leaving. However, there was always someone else up at that hour, and

once he got back to town after completing his business here, hed take care of that little problem as well. Mouths have a permanent way of being closed up. He soon reached the small plateau, and decided to rest for a bit. He got down off his horse and surveyed the surroundings. He needed to find himself a good hiding place among the rocks, somewhere to ambush that gringo when he least expected it. Then revenge would be his. He remounted his horse, and started back up the trail. Maybe he could ambush both of them in the caves, because by now the town knew about the doctor. He didnt want to stab him, but he felt that he would talk too soon, and ruin his plans. He did mention something about a lost treasure up here, and maybe thats what those two were doing up here all that time. Perhaps they had found it. Sure, if they did they would be back, and hed just lie back and let them do all the work. An evil grin crossed his face, and a plan hatched in the back of his mind. He could get his revenge, get rid of the sheriff, and claim the gold, or whatever it was, all to himself. That would sure make up

for what had happened. Hell, for that much gold, Id get shot in the other arm too, he thought to himself, laughing. He needed to get rid of his horse, though. If they spotted it, they would know he was up here in the hills, and his plans would not come to fruition. He got off, took off the saddlebags, swung them around his neck and gave his horse a smack on the rump. The animal whinnied and headed back down the trail. He was close enough to the cave entrance to walk anyhow, and the less those two knew, the better it would be for him. He walked up the trail, and passed the large boulder. There it was, the opening to freedom, he chuckled. Financial freedom that is. He put his saddlebags down, and took a quick rest, surveying the countryside. He wished he had his brother here with him, but that wasnt to be. His body was still down in the cavern where he left it as far as he knew. Once all this unpleasantness was over, he would take his brothers body down off the mountain and give it a proper burial with his family surrounding him, the way it should be. He picked up his bags, and proceeded into the cave. It was much cooler in here

than the outside temperature, and soon he was at the opening in the floor. He threw his bags on the ground, and dropped down the hole, landing on his feet. He picked up his bags and continued on down the passageway, into the big room that held his brothers body. The only thing different was that the body was on its back, staring upwards. He walked over and put his bags down in the dust beside the body. Soon, he promised, very soon now we will have our revenge. His heart was filled with pure hatred of the man who did this. He went down the left tunnel, and soon came upon the end of the tunnel that was filled with water. He decided hed chance it, to see for himself what was on the other side. Taking a deep breath, he dove in the icy cold water, and it shocked him like a thousand lightning bolts hitting him all at once. He almost lost his breath, but continued on. He felt like his lungs were about to give out when he came to the bottom gradually rising, and following it, broke through on the other side with a great whoosh of breath. He climbed

slowly onto the sandbar and saw then the box laying open in the sand. Well now, there was a hidden treasure, he thought. And too bad it will soon be all mine. He opened up the chest, and the smile on his face dropped. He scraped some of the mud off that had fallen in, and was disappointed in what he saw. The gold, diamonds, and other jewels his eyes had sought were simply not there. All that was inside was what was left of something that appeared to be a letter, written in a language he assumed was Spanish. Half of the moldy letter was missing, and it stank to high heaven. He sighed and closed the chest when a dim glint caught his eye. He reached down in the damp box and pulled out what looked like a small pebble. He rinsed it off in the water, and the gem encrusted within the latticework of silver shone a dull green. He rubbed it with his shirttail, and the emerald within revealed itself to him.

Mike took the men assigned to him to the south ridge, where they spaced themselves apart every hundred yards or so. They made sure they had a clear field of fire. Once the order to advance had begun, they were to make sure they could use the surrounding terrain for cover. John had taken his men and spaced them throughout the clump of aspen and willow trees on the north ridge. The stage would be coming right between the two groups of men, and the trail was about fifty yards from them. Once the shooting started, it wouldnt stop until there were

dead men scattered about. John also received the telegram back from the stagecoach company informing him that they were aware of the situation, and that there would be two armed men inside the stage itself. Upon reading this piece of news, John threw down the paper and stalked out of the telegraph office, angry that they werent taking more precautions against the suspected raid on their stagecoach. That left three armed men on the stagecoach, plus Mike and his three men and John with his four. There was a total of twelve against four. It would seem that the odds favored them, but the outlaws had three good hands with guns, while John and Mikes outfit had about six. That still cut the odds somewhat, but John didnt have a choice. This had to stop here and now, otherwise the killing and raiding would go on and on. He also wanted to recover the money stolen from the bank, five thousand of which was his. Now all they had to do was wait. They made sure their chambers were full and that they had plenty of ammunition handy. Once the shooting started, it would be guaranteed death to run out.

Simp and the rest of his gang mounted up, and got ready to bushwhack the stagecoach. Each man checked his weapon and double-checked their ammo supply. Then they headed east, towards the trail that the stagecoach would arrive on. There were several ridges around that they could use for cover until they actually assaulted the coach itself, but they wanted to do it where the ridges were closest together. Of course there was always the risk of an ambush, but they had to put that thought aside for the moment, and concentrate on each man doing what he was supposed to do. They rode on, the sun rising higher in the sky and the heat rising right along with it. Several dust devils blew with the slight breeze that had picked up, blowing sand in their faces. They kept on, knowing they had to ambush the stagecoach at just the right spot, otherwise it could get rough. After an hour of riding, they turned off the trail and headed towards the ridge to the south, to hide themselves and their mounts until the stagecoach arrived. Mike watched the men riding up the trail towards them. He looked down the line at his men, and looked back. These men werent stupid, they were going to hit the stagecoach at the narrowest point

between the two ridges. Mike thought they shouldve been further east, but that might have put them too far out of the action when Johns group rushed in. He had no choice but to hold his ground now. He counted five heads, one of which he couldnt believe his eyes. It was the Federal Marshal, the man who came down from Kansas City to identify John from the outlaw Clem Levens. His jaw just dropped. John was right, the lawman was in cahoots with this bunch! John had also watched the five men riding up the trail from the east. He made sure all his men were properly situated and wouldnt be prone to jump the gun. They had to time this just right, otherwise a lot of good men were going to die this day. The air was dry and dusty, and the wind blew gently through the tops of the trees, making the leaves rustle slightly. He watched and hoped that they wouldnt see Mike or his men, otherwise the shooting would start too early. He looked to his right, and far off he could see the makings of a dust trail winding up on the horizon. It was the stagecoach coming, and they needed to be alert now. Their plan was to let the outlaws make the first move, then ambush them from both ridges at the same time, catching them in

a pincer movement that would surround them.

Unfortunately for them, they were seen by the group. Jim and his gang knew that this was soon to be an ambush, and they hunkered down behind a rise and a thicket of trees to review their plan. From what Simp said, he saw four or five heads sticking out behind the trees over on the other side of the trail. That only meant one thing, that someone knew their plans. Dammit, Jim swore to himself. He kneeled down on one knee and gathered his men together around him. Alright, we need to figure something out, he started. Someone's over yonder wantin' to drygulch us, and we need to do somethin' about it. The damn stage is comin' and we're goin' with the original plan! Simp stated factually. Jim just looked up at the big man, and shook his head. No good, Simp, we'll get shot for sure. There's probably other men on this side of the road further on down, and the way it looks to me is that I smell a trap.

Manuel pocketed the trinket he held in his hands, and sloshed his hand through the rest of the gunk in the chest. He came up with nothing but slime. He rinsed his hand off, noting that it stunk like a rotted corpse, and decided to leave the cavern to the souls that were trapped here. He started under the water when he heard a low rumbling coming up through the mountain. He quickly took a deep breath and dove underwater, swimming hard towards the opening at the other end. His lungs felt like they were about to burst, and he finally broke through into clean air on the other side, fear and adrenaline taking over his body now. The rumbling continued, and he made a mad dash for the cave entrance, a strong sense of urgency clearly

guiding his every move now. He found the original cave entrance, and started to climb the timbers that were there to use as a ladder, slipping once, twice in his urgency to get out of there. He finally dragged himself onto the dusty cave floor above, and the rumbling grew in intensity. He watched helplessly as tons of rubble poured down in front of him, slowly burying him alive in the cavern that had shown him so much promise, a golden future. Once the rumbling stopped, the only thing left of Manuel was his right hand sticking out between the rocks. His vengeance and his greed had cost him his life.

Everyone in town heard the rumbling, and turned to stare at the mountains. They knew from experience that once that happened, the ground would start shaking, and things would break. The townspeople ran towards their homes, hoping to save all of their treasures and trinkets from falling off of mantelpieces and shelves, saving their knick-knacks for another day. One man stood on the boardwalk, and watched a slowly rising cloud of dust coming from the mountains, and knew what had happened. Earthquake. He hoped that no one was up there when this happened, and if they were, he would pray for their souls.

Chapter 14 John and his men watched the stage getting closer, leaving a small dust cloud in its wake. All eyes were intently on this moving piece of man's machinery, waiting for the inevitable shooting to start. However, the closer it got, it still remained strangely quiet. Soon the clippityclap of horse's hooves reached their ears, then grew into a

thunderous noise as the stagecoach approached, not even slowing down. The dust it raised left dirt in everyone's eyes, ears nose and mouth, a gritty dirt that was foul-tasting. The stage passed, and John and his men just looked at each other. Nothing was happening. Dammit, thought John, someone tipped these guys off, they knew it was an ambush! Now what were they going to do? He called his men together, then made their way through the slowly falling duststorm to the other side of the road, meeting up with Mike and his crew. What happened, Boss? he asked, clearly confused. We were finagled, Mike, they knew about us bein' here, said John. He spat out a mouthful of grit and looked at his men. Let's mount up and follow that stage into town, see what happens. All his men gathered their horses together and mounted up. They soon caught up with the stagecoach which was, unfortunately, stopped in the middle of the road. They'd been beaten again!

Tom got his horse ready to head back into the mountains. On his way over to the livery stable he ran into an old friend, Matt. The portly man was watching him with interest. He was soon walking alongside him, making him uncomfortable. What can I do for you? asked Tom. He wasn't quite sure about this man, whom he'd known only for a few days. I hear tell you're lookin' for a treasure, he said. Word is that you're seekin' that old Spanish treasure that they say exists somewhere up in those mountains. Tom eyeballed the man, wondering just how in the hell he knew all that. I'm

doing some investigating, if that's what you're getting at, he said in response. Matt looked at him square in the eye. That treasure is haunted, he said finally. Everyone who goes lookin' for it doesn't come back. Tom just looked at the man. What was he getting at? Was he supposed to be superstitious, or afraid of ghosts and such? He didn't mention that he was already up there, and had found some gold coins. The less people knew about what went on, the better. He was still a ways away from getting out of this mess with his head still attached to his neck. I'm going up there one way or another, said Tom. By the way, have you seen that Mexican gunslinger around, by any chance? he asked. Matt just pursed his lips and looked at his boots. Not since he left town the other day, he said. No one's seen him since he headed off towards the canyon that leads to the mountain. I aim to bring him back to town, said Tom. He is the one that killed Doc Wallace and he's gonna swing for his crime. He swung up on his horse, and headed south towards the mountains. After about an hour's ride, he came upon a stagecoach that was lying on its side in the road. He dismounted, and went to see if there was anyone hurt inside. The horses were gone, and the straps had snapped and left them on their own. He cautiously approached it, and soon he heard the click of several weapons focused on him. He stopped, and turned slowly around, noticing that several heads were popping out from behind the trees that were in the copse. Suddenly, a familiar voice rang out. Tom! it said happily. He turned, and there was his buddy John, whom he had given up for dead after hearing about the fate of

his family. He figured that his friend was long gone, or dead by now. We figured you was one of those snakes comin' back to pick through the wreckage, said John. Tom looked at his old friend and just smiled. No, I'm just glad all these guns are on your side! John motioned for the men to come out and put their weapons down. He walked up to Tom and gave him a great bear hug. What say we trail the varmints that robbed this here stage? They's headin' west as far as we know, and an extra hand won't hurt none! Tom thought about it for about five seconds. Count me in, partner. I got someone on my tail as it is, and as they say, the more the merrier! I'm sorry about Liza and the kids, John, he added sympathetically. John looked at him, and just shook his head. It'll be okay, was all he said. Everyone mounted up, and soon were following the Simpson gang, trailing them through the sagebrush, cholla, and cactus of the desert. The sun was slowly settling in the west when the men decided to call it a night. They had made good progress, and had made something to eat and were drinking a little whiskey to relax when they started to get serious with their conversation. Tom told them of his adventures in the old abandoned mines, and John reveled his listeners with tales of his. Each man listened intently to the other, and soon decided upon a course of action. Well, said Tom, it seems that this town's sheriff isn't too keen on having to follow criminals. I have nothing better to do, so deputize me and make me a member of your posse. John swore him in, and looked straight into Tom's eyes. A Federal marshal is in the gang that we're trackin, Tom, he said without batting an eye. He's on the take,

so be prepared no matter what you do, he added. Day turned into night, so they took a break and waited to see what morning would bring them.

Simp and the gang had ridden to their hideout, a weather-beaten slab of sandstone that was carved out of the side of a cliff many years ago. They couldn't wait to get off the horses and count the loot they had stolen from the stagecoach. It didn't matter that two people were dead because of their greed. The box fell off of Jim's horse with a dull thud in the sandy soil, and there were several eager pairs of hands waiting to open it. The lock had to be dealt with first, however. Simp stood up and backed off a little. Move your behinds, boys. Let's let Mr. Smith and Wesson open this here box for us! He pulled out his revolver and with two shots, the lock came apart. Jim knelt down in the sand to pull off the stillsmoldering lock, and opened the box. He just looked up with a shocked expression on his face. Nothing! Not so much as a lousy five dollar piece! Simp couldn't believe their luck. After all they went through, the damn thing was empty! Red just stared at Simp. The look was venomous, and Jim knew what was coming next. Hold on there, fellers, he said, trying to ease the tension. Fighting amongst ourselves isn't going to get us rich. They knew they were gonna be ambushed. How I have no clue. We'll just have to figure something else out. Red jumped in with his two-cents worth. Goddam, he said, spluttering with rage. All this trouble and all we got was a box of dust! He swore disgustedly and walked towards his horse. Where the hell you goin? asked Simp. I'm done with you fellers, said Red disgustedly. We plan and we plan and all

that ever happens is nothing. We killed two people for nothing! And soon our faces are gonna be on wanted posters from here to Colorado! I'm a goin' South, to Mexico! He got up on his horse and started riding away. Jim took out his six-shooter, took careful aim, and fired one shot. Red toppled from his horse, and lay unmoving in the dust of the desert. Anyone else wanna abandon me? he asked, looking around at each man in turn. He got no answer and holstered his weapon. We just need to plan a little more ahead, he added. Willy spoke up next. Senor, what we do now? We wanted men and no gold to show for it. Let me think, said Jim, stroking his chin thoughtfully. I think we settle down for the night, then head up towards Tombstone in the morning. Unless, of course, anyone has a better idea... No one said anything, and that was that. He was counting on the news not traveling that fast. Little did he know how determined his former friends were.

Tom, John, and the rest of the men decided to head back into town. There they would telegraph the stagecoach company and let them know what happened. They also needed to let the sheriff in on what was going on and to see if he was any closer to Doc Wallaces' killer. Too bad for them that he was gone, chasing after a dead man. They proceeded to the saloon, and went to find out what happened in their absence. The bartender told them about the earthquake and how the sheriff left

town to head up into the mountains after the man that killed the doctor. John just swore. The sheriff was supposed to wait until they got back! I'd give 'em a day John, said Tom nonchalantly. If we head into the mountains tonight we'd be askin' for trouble. Better wait til daybreak. John just looked at his partner. Okay, if you say so, he said. If that's what ya'll want to do, then let's drink up, and we'll continue our hunt tomorrow first light! The saloon was busy when they walked in, and they all ambled up to the bar to place their orders. John looked around at the various clientele that frequented this establishment, and noticed that they were all as dusty and dirt-covered as they were. Not only did he have the stagecoach robbery to worry about, but also his mine, now knowing that Jim was part of the group that was in on it. Was he the one that cut the timbers? He didn't want to believe it, but he had to face the facts, like it or not. He thought that Jim was on their side, but his true colors finally came out. He finished his drink, and walked over to Tom, motioning for him to follow him outside. There the two men could talk in relative peace and quiet, without anyone overhearing their private conversation. So what do you think of all this, Tom? asked John, who let out a burp. Well, my friend, it seems that you can't trust anyone these days, answered Tom, swishing the whiskey in his glass, then taking a drink of the potent liquid. I found something up there, John, that would start a stampede in this town, he added, almost in afterthought. He stared at his friend, then looked down at the amber liquid in his glass. I thought I'd let ya know. I'm here to help ya. John just stared at his friend in astonishment. No need, my friend. I've heard rumors of a Confederate treasure hidden in the mountains around here, and I aim to

share it with whoever helps me find it. What do you mean, Confederate treasure? Just what I said, Tom. There's word out that some of the rebels got away and took some of Jefferson Davis' gold out here and buried it, to come back later when they thought the South would rise again. Tom just pursed his lips at that, and walked slowly back into the saloon.

Simp was aggravated with the whole deal. First the stage robbery went bad, then he had to kill Red in cold blood. Who else, he wondered, would turn on him next? Jim, or would Willy lead them into a trap? He didn't trust any of them. Suddenly, Jim had an idea! Gents, he said, I know of a mine we can knock off! The others gathered around him quickly, their interest clearly piqued now. What are you talkin' about, Jim? asked Simp. Willy nodded his head in agreement. Well, fellers, there's this gold mine that I was working for John awhile back, and I bet there isn't a handful of men working it now. We could go in there, take what we want, and disappear over the border til everything cools off!

High Mesa by Clifton L. Bush Jr.

To Lori, who was proud

Chapter 1 The wind blows eternally through the desert, constantly eroding the rock and the scrub that barely clings to life there. This is the process that has been going on for millennia, and will continue to do so.

For thousands of years water and wind have eroded the land, causing giant buttes to rise up against the sky as if in defiance of mother nature. Layer by layer these goliaths represent time, allowing one to look back at the geologic processes that formed our planet. But the one man who was slowly riding through this part of the desert took no notice, only glancing occasionally to his right or left, or up at the sun, making sure that he was heading in the right direction. On and on he rode, with the sun high at his back, as the sun slowly rose in the east and sank in the west. He was on his way to Colorado, to a mining town where he could hide and remain hidden, providing of course the locals didn't ask too many questions. He was a tall, lanky man, square shouldered and slightly hunched over who had seen plenty of years. The most unusual feature about this man, however, were his eyes. One was green, while the other was an albino white. He knew he would have to find a camp that was out of the beaten path to hide his secrets, because his face was on wanted posters around the Arizona Territories and that it wouldn't take much for some young buckaroo to spot him. That was something that he didn't need nor want. He had been on the run going on for five years now, and he wasn't about to let some young wet behind-the-ears punk take him in. He didn't want to spend the next 20 years in Yuma Territorial. He figured that once he reached a camp, he could just blend in with the other misfits who found their way into these establishments, and make a living mining or lumberjacking. Perhaps even working for the railroad, if he was lucky enough. As long as it was a job, he didn't have to worry. He could then put his past behind him. Once someone recognized him, it was all over. He'd have to shoot his way out of another town, with another death on his conscience. That was something he could do without. He found himself on a trail that slowly rose through the canyon, and the soil became hard and rocky. He eased his mount through the worst of it, and found that it was a winding trail that headed towards the mountains. He figured another day or two would find him in a small mining town or camp to where he could start his new life. Little did he know that he had a shadow. The bounty hunter reined in his mount, and stopped, watching the man several hundred yards ahead of

him. He watched him stop, look around, and continue on into the canyon to where he could finally trap him. He could almost smell the skin he was so confident of his success. He looked around, trying to find the best possible area in which to trap the man, and led his horse around to the southern part of the canyon. Here there was a small stream that slowly flowed down from the mountains above. He let his horse drink, then got down and filled his animal skin with the cool, clear liquid. Out here a man needed water, and he was no exception despite living in these harsh conditions all of his life. He was on a mission to gaining a reputation, and killing this man and bringing back his guns and horse were trophies that he did not want to see slip away. The sun was setting, and he decided to make camp for the night. He could easily follow the man, for he left a trail a blind man could follow. The horse tracks led right up through the canyon, and he made no move to conceal his travels. Simp stopped his horse, and looked behind him. He had an idea he was being followed, and had come into this canyon on purpose, to make the pursuer known. He had a gut instinct that the man knew what he was doing, but he had the disadvantage of knowing that his prey knew he was being followed. He reined in, and decided to camp for the night. The sun was low in the western sky, with just several more minutes of daylight left. He dropped off his mount, and opened up a package of jerky. He didn't want to make a fire and make himself that much more obvious. All he needed right now was the whole tribe on his tail. One he could deal with, one hundred was another story. He laid back against a flat rock, and tilted his hat down over his eyes, his ears picking up where his vision left off. He started to hear the noises of the night, the birds and owls and other such nocturnal creatures doing their thing. He listened intently for awhile for any noises on the trail, but heard none, and took his pistol out of its holster and laid the weapon within easy reach, just out of sight of whoever might come up the trail and try to trap him. He soon dozed off, and let his mind wander through the mists of time. The bank they had held up in Borderland had been an easy job, and had netted each of them about

three thousand dollars. Normally they would have headed for the border, but then they heard about an army payroll coming through and decided they would hijack that as well. That didn't go to well, from what he recollected, and they wound up splitting up and scattering after awhile. Jim and Jud wound up getting arrested, Willy headed back to Mexico, and he headed up north, towards Colorado, to try and hide out until the heat was off. Normally once a person left the state in which a crime was committed they were home free, but a new law made it a federal offense and now he was on the run from the feds as well. He wondered sometimes if it was all worth it. All he knew was that he was tired of running, of having to hide all the time, and wondering when some punk kid would decide to take him up in the offer of a gunfight. He had killed enough men in his day, but he was tired of it. He had no interests in making notches in his gun barrel like he did when he was just a kid. He knew a little more now, and he was disgusted by it. But he kept running for fear of swinging in a noose. He figured that he had about two hundred dollars worth of gold in his packs to make him through the next few weeks. After that he'd just have to get a job or go back to being a bandit. Either way he didn't care. He stared up at the stars, and wondered what it would be like to never have to run again. He heard a noise, like metal on rock, and was instantly wide awake. He reached for his weapon, and a foot soon stepped on his arm, pinning it six inches away from his pistol. He looked up, straight into the face of the bounty hunter. The man had no expression on his face, and it seemed that he bore no hatred of Simp. He was simply doing what he was being paid to do. He reached down, and picked up the six-shooter, tossing it behind him in the dirt. He pointed his rifle directly at Simp's heart and said two words. Get up, he stated. Simp saw that he had no choice, and slowly got to his feet, brushing the dust off of his pant legs. The man just looked at him, and his eyes widened when he saw that Simp's eyes were two different colors. He looked at one eye, then the other, and realized that this was no ordinary man indeed. What was he to do? Simp saw the hesitation in the man, and decided to try and talk his way out of this. How, he said,

raising his right hand. You no kill, right? The hunter just continued to stare, and slowly the rifle he was holding lowered. What's wrong with you? he asked. Nothing wrong, friend, answered Simp, slowly realizing that he was gaining the upper hand in this. All he had to do was keep talking, and maybe he could worm his way out of this predicament. Then he realized that the bounty hunter was staring in amazement at him. You like my eyes? he asked, pointing to his peepers. The man just nodded. Just then a rifle shot sounded far off, and a pink, frothy foam came from between the hunter's lips. He slowly sunk to his knees, his rifle clattering on the rocks, and pitched forward in the dust. Simp instinctively ducked in the dirt, and slowly looked around for the shooter. It was a few minutes later that a rider slowly trotted up the rocky path towards where he lay. Recognizing the Mexican guide, Simp got up, dusting himself off, and angry that Willy had damn near killed him too. Willy, what the hell did you do that for? he asked gruffly. The Mexican just gave him a big, toothy smile. Looks like Willy save your ass, he said, dismounting and chuckling to himself. Bounty hunter have you for supper. Good to see ya, Willy, he said finally, shaking the Mexican's hand. They hadn't seen each other in over five years, not since the mine incident, and they had split up. He eyeballed the stallion that Willy rode up on. Nice horse you got there. Who'd you steal it from? he asked. Oh no, senor, Willy no steal, he buy, the guide answered, patting the horse on the nose. The horse rubbed his head against Willy's hand, and he reached into one of his packs, withdrawing a dried-out carrot stick. The animal chewed on it contentedly. Where you heading, big man? he asked Simp. Up north to where its safe from varmints like you, the big man answered.

Why don't you come back to Mexico with me, Simp? I have hacienda we can use as base, and make raids across the border. Lots of senoritas and tequila, no? The big man thought about that. Head back into Mexico? That might not be such a bad idea after all, either, instead of heading into Colorado where he'd be more likely to be spotted. Okay, Willy, ya talked me into it. We'll head into Mexico, he said finally. He mounted his horse and turned it back out into the desert, heading out of the canyon. Soon they were trotting through the cholla and Saguaro in a southerly direction. Simp figured that once they got to Mexico, they could lay down a base of operations close to the border, and make strikes through Skeleton Canyon or follow a stage trail up through one of the border towns and make good their getaway. Soon he felt like a second wind had blown through him. Willy couldn't have shown up at a better time. He needed his spirits lifted and going back to the outlaw ways was going to do it for him. By the way, have you heard any more about that Rebel treasure that's supposed to be hidden somewhere around here? he asked the guide. Only bits and pieces, senor, was his reply. Word is its hidden in a gold mine, then someone else say it hidden in a silver mine. Willy can't figure it out. Okay, we'll play it by ear then. But by God, I aim to find that treasure!

Chapter 2

They ran across the stagecoach road heading south, and decided to stay on it to make time, despite the danger of being identified. As soon as a plume of dust was spotted, they found themselves a hiding spot and waited for the stage to pass, giving it ample time until they made their way. On the second day of

this, they decided that it was just too dangerous, and stayed hidden during the day and followed the ruts at night. An hour after sunset they spotted the faraway lights of a town in the distance, but decided against going there. They both could've used a drink, but they also knew they'd be spotted and that was a risk they weren't ready to take just yet. On the fourth day of their journey, they were sitting in amongst some rocks and scrub eating jerky when a rifle shot sounded close by. They both jumped up and peered through a crevice in the rocks to see if they could find who was shooting and at what. They didn't see anything, and no shots followed the first. They sat back down, and wondered just what exactly was going on. What you think that was, senor? asked Willy, chewing on a piece of smoked meat. I don't know, answered Simp, but we better not be here at sundown. Couple more days, we be over the border, senor, Willy stated. He was originally hired to lead the other four men out of the Arizona territories after they robbed the Army payroll coming in from Kansas City, but were thwarted when all they did was rob an empty box, killing two men in the process. After that things just kind of fell apart. Red was shot in the back by Simp for wanting to leave the outlaw gang and the others wound up getting arrested. From what they heard, Jim was still awaiting trial and Jud had been hanged. But that was just hearsay; it wasn't a known fact. Soon dusk came, and they prepared to leave their hiding spot. Willy made sure the small fire they had made to boil coffee was out, and Simp mounted his horse, ready to move. The two men glanced around them, and soon set back off on the trail, heading towards a new destiny in the land called Mexico.

She sat at the bar, nursing her fifth drink. She raised the glass to her lips, arched her head back, and slammed the fiery liquid down her throat. It burned all the way down, and she wiped off her lips with her sleeve and put the shot glass down, motioning for a refill in the process. Her name was Dori Smith, and she could drink with the best of them. She grew up in a mining town just like this one, except that she was much younger and gullible then. Some of the miners had tried to take advantage of her, and her

father intervened, being shot and killed in the process. She had held a grudge against men ever since, and vowed to be even better than them when it came to drinking, fighting, or gunplay. She had 30 years of experience packed into her twenty-two year old frame. She was afraid of nothing or no one, and didn't care if her appearance made others uncomfortable. She'd been called names from A to Z and was still standing after all was said and done. She was tough, and she was proud. That made her extremely dangerous, and the men that tried to romance her found that out the hard way. She stopped in town to drink herself numb after having to bury her baby brother. He was all she had left in this world, and she aimed to find the man who shot him down in cold blood. She would walk the ends of the earth to find out, and would let no man nor woman, for that matter, stand in her way. She stood five foot six inches tall, with dirty blonde hair, and weighed a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet, with her gun attached. But what she lacked in size she more than made up for in spirit and determination. She downed her sixth drink and was nursing her seventh when Rusty Miller walked in. In his mind he was the cream of the crop, and had an attitude that a steer couldn't knock out of him. He figured to be a ladies' man, but he hadn't quite yet met Dori Smith. He ambled up to the bar, ordered a drink, and sat there eyballing her, from the hat on her head to the well-worn boots on her feet. Well, hello there darlin', he said, tipping his hat sarcastically. He raised his right boot and placed it on the brass rail footrest, and casually leaned over to stroke her hair. She viciously slapped his hand away, making him coil back in surprise. No one did that to him, not any man nor woman, for that matter. Rusty wasn't the type to take no from anyone, especially a woman. Well, well, well, he said, we got us an impertinent little filly! He reached back with his right hand, cocking it as if to strike her, and the bartender grabbed his wrist. Not tonight, Rusty, he said. No one strikes a woman in my bar! Rusty turned to look at Ray Holloway, the man who'd grabbed him. Back in the day, Ray had been known to be pretty fast with a six-shooter, and Rusty remembered that fact, slowly lowering his arm and

smiling at the lady. Well, pardon me, ma'am, he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. He finished his drink, dropped a coin on the bar, and walked out, slamming the bat-wing doors in the process. You didn't have to defend me, Dori said to her rescuer. My pleasure, ma'am. Besides, I'd rather look at your face than his! he laughed, chuckling to himself as he wiped out several glasses and laid them behind the bar. Thanks, and much obliged. You're welcome, and anytime, miss..... Miss will do for now, she said, and turned to walk out of the bar. Before he could say anything, she reached in her pocket, took out a coin, flipped it backwards towards him, and he deftly caught it in the air. Thanks for the drinks. She walked out of the saloon, took a left to head to the hotel to sleep it off, and was caught off guard behind her as someone picked her up and clamped a hand over her mouth. She bit down, and the man yelped and let her go. She dropped to all fours, slid her six-shooter out in one smooth motion, and pointed it at her attacker. The man was holding his hand, blood coming out where she'd bit through the skin, and just glared at her. It was Rusty Miller. Mister, what's your problem? she asked him. Just 'cause a woman don't cotton to ya do you have to attack her comin' out of a saloon! She kept the pistol pointed at him, and he was smart enough to notice that the end of the barrel never wavered far from aiming at his heart. She stood up slowly, her eyes locked with his, and slowly holstered her weapon. Do you always attack people coming out of a saloon, or are you just plain ornery? she asked him finally, her heart slowing back to its regular number of beats. I could've killed you, and would have swung for doing it. What's your problem, mister? Rusty shook his hand, and glared at her. What'd you bite me for? I wasn't gonna hurt ya! he stammered. He looked down at the teeth marks in his hand, and swore softly.

She glared back at him. Leave me alone. If I want company, it sure as hell won't be the kind you keep! With that, she turned her back on him and stalked off towards the hotel, boots clomping on the boardwalk. He just watched her go, and walked to the hitching post to where his horse was tied up. He reined in, and headed west out of town, back to his ranch house, finally being swallowed up in the cloud of dust that was so prevalent in these parts. What neither of them noticed was the man who was leaning against a post in front of the general store watching their exchange with amusement. His eyes carefully took in how the man tried to grab the girl, and by how she responded. He liked what he saw, she was fast. Perhaps he could talk her into helping out the establishment and perhaps not. He decided he'd try later, after a few drinks and after she had calmed down some from her predicament with the cowboy in front of the saloon. He didn't want to raise eyebrows just yet. But he needed people that were fast on their feet, and that could think their way out of danger. He rolled a smoke, and calmly lit it, the gentle desert breeze catching the flame and slowly bending it to and fro. He lit his cigarette, and tossed the burned out match to the sand, his mind slowly working out the details of his plan.

Dori reached her room and opened the door. Once inside, she took a deep breath, unfastened her gunbelt, and lay down on the squeaky bed. She quickly went through what had just happened to her on the boardwalk, and decided that it was just an isolated incident. She figured he was just a lonely cowboy who wanted to get cozy and comfortable with a woman. Well, he wouldn't be doing that with her, no way. That's what the saloon girls were for. She was far from being a saloon girl. She got up and looked out her window. The occasional couple strolled by, and the cowpunchers heading towards the saloon whirled up little puffs of dust in their wake. She walked over to the washbasin and rinsed off her face, which helped to sober her up from too many shots of whiskey. She figured she'd better be careful. The last thing she needed would be to be jumped and hogtied like some farm animal. That she could do without. She thought about what she needed to do, and decided that she

would head to Uncle Bob's ranch early in the morning, and greet him and Aunt Clara with a surprise visit. She hadn't been there since she left several years ago, and she figured that now was as good a time as any to let them know she was still alive and well. She walked back over to the bed, kicked off her boots, and laid down with a gentle sigh of relief. Soon she entered a world where dreams came true and problems melted away.

Willy, you go get supplies, they don't know you there, said Simp. The way he figured, the guide could go to town and restock their dwindling reserves and wouldn't be noticed. Mexicans were as commonplace around the south as the Saguaro plant, and one more wouldn't be noticed or have attention paid to him. Willy agreed, and Simp gave him some gold out of his sack for purchasing the items. By the way, get me a couple bottles of whiskey, I could use 'em! Okay, senor, if you say so. I be back shortly. Willy rode off towards town, and Simp made himself as comfortable as he could, leaning up against a boulder that was surrounded by scrub and sand. To while away the time until Willy returned, he thought about what he was going to do. Yeah, right, he. Not they, he. Would he just dump the Mexican once he didn't need him anymore? More than likely, because he didn't like to share his wealth. Willy was a good tracker though, he had to admit. He saved his life back in the canyon by shooting that bounty hunter, and he was only the first out of many, depending upon the reward placed upon his head, and whether they wanted him dead or alive. Nah, he thought, Willy deserved better than that. He was the only one besides Jim who didn't complain about anything, even the heat in the middle of the day. He'd be a good backup man in case he needed one, so that thought was tossed out. Jud and Red were both gone, and Jim might as well be. They would find him guilty of conspiracy and hang him on the spot. Especially since he was a former lawman. The locals didn't take too kindly to a law enforcement officer being in on the take. A strange thought had crossed his mind. What if they were to break Jim out of lockup? Would they be able to do it? It was possible, he figured. They could probably come up with some kind of plan once they

reached Hell's Gate and figure out how to release the man. He would be a useful ally then, that's for sure. He would owe them his life, and one more gun watching their back wouldn't hurt anything, either. He sat and thought about that while he waited for Willy to return from town with their supplies.

Willy trotted into town like he owned the place. He pulled up in front of the general store, stopped his horse, and got off, tying the reins loosely around the rail there. He walked into the store, where the air was a little cooler, and raised his sombrero just a bit more to see better. It took just a couple of minutes for his eyes to adjust to the limited light and was soon walking up and down the aisles looking for the supplies they needed. He walked up to the counter, and set everything down. He grabbed three bottles of whiskey and another box of ammunition, and watched as the store clerk added it all up. Once done, he took out a small sack that contained gold nuggets, and set one down on the counter top to pay for his merchandise. The man just looked at him, and Willy gave him a smile, his white teeth showing like the bleached bones of a horse out in the desert. The man scooped it up, reached under the counter and placed a loupe in his eye, inspecting the nugget. When he said everything looked fine, Willy had everything put into a large burlap bag and walked out with his goods, almost walking into another man coming into the store. Watch where yer' goin'! said the man angrily. Willy just bowed down and tipped the sombrero, trying not to arouse suspicion on him. Excuse please, senor, he said, walking up to his horse and tying the sack to its rump. He looked east of town, and saw the Davis Mountains in the background. He stared at them for a few minutes, then mounted his horse, reining its way back out of town towards their hideout. He hoped no one would follow him, and his horse raised a cloud of dust galloping through the cholla and cactus. He soon reached the spot where they were camped out for the day, and dismounted, taking out one of the bottles of whiskey and handing it to Simp. The man uncorked it, and drew long and hard on the bottle before smacking his lips and wiping the sweat from his face. Now that's what I needed, he said happily.

He took another large swig, and handed the bottle to Willy. He declined, saying I will later on when we're on the way again. Of course he was right, they shouldn't be getting snookered while still on the run. There would be plenty of time left for that once they reached Willy's hacienda in Mexico. Instead of this rotgut whiskey he could be sipping on some premium tequila, the bottles with the worms in them. Those were the quality liquors, he knew. Just one bottle of that would make one's toenails curl and straighten their hair! He took another deep gulp from the bottle, then corked it closed. He put it down, and watched as Willy stoked up the fire for their evening meal. Once the sun was down they could make more time and get further and further away from the hangman's noose. Willy figured on two more nights, and they would be at the border. Once there, they would have to cross the river and head straight on through any villages they came across. As soon as they reached Willy's place would they know that they were safe. As long as Don Trujillo didn't find them, that is...

Chapter 3

Dori rose from her nap and quickly slid her boots on, then attached the gun belt to her lithe waist. She took a quick glance out the window, and headed for the door. She walked down the steps, and went over to pay the proprietor what she owed him. With that taken care of, she walked outside into the bright sunshine and headed towards the livery stable to collect her horse. She paid the hostler and was soon heading out of town in a cloud of dust. After about a mile or so she turned around to see if anyone was following her. Not yet, she thought. But she wouldn't put it past that

man Rusty to do so, since she injured his male ego. That was probably not the best thing to do, but she wasn't about to fistfight with a man. She'd lose that battle for sure, and there weren't too many men out here in the West who were too keen on a man hitting a woman in the first place.

The man who watched her leave with interest had no such qualms about hitting a man or a woman, for that matter. He lit a cigarette, and with casual indifference, walked over to his horse and got on. He reined back and was soon following the fast disappearing dust cloud that was Dori and her horse. He fully intended to find out the information he needed and was willing to go all out to get it. Once the mine papers were taken care of, he would be paid the balance of his fee plus a bonus, and then the chubby railroad tycoon J. Adam Carlson could have his way with this miserable little town. Little did she know that her uncle and aunt held the key to stopping the railroad from coming through this town, and this man was paid to change people's minds, so to speak. And for the sum he was offered, he didn't plan on failing.

The sun dipped below the horizon, leaving a beautiful orange-purple glow to the sky. Simp and Willy packed everything up and prepared to move out. When they were ready to leave, they heard horse's hooves and quickly dismounted, reaching for their weapons. Simp took a peek and noticed that a single rider was going by at high speed, long hair flailing in the breeze. What the hell, he thought, a woman? Out here? He watched her go for a little longer, then soon heard another horse coming up the same trail. What was going on? He didn't think that they were being spotted, because the riders just kept going, heading towards Bower's Canyon. Him and Willy remounted and decided to follow the two riders, just to see what was up. They decided to keep their distance. Besides, they could easily follow their trails, because the soil was a mix between dirt and sand, and would show hoof prints quite easily. After about half an hour they reined up, and noticed that their quarry had stopped also. Simp got off his horse, and peered around a copse of trees. With the sun down all he could see were

shadows, but there were definitely two riders, one being a female. Now what would a woman do out here at this time of night? What and who was the man following her, and what was his business? Maybe they ought to find out, and maybe catch a break in the process. Simp drew his weapon and slowly advanced, with Willy in tow carrying his rifle. The two men soon were about fifty feet away when they heard the woman scream, and saw the man clamping his hand over her mouth. They both rushed the man and woman, and when the man saw them, he made a mad dash for his horse. Simp took a shot and missed. The man reached his horse and took off, dust blowing in the wind. Ma'am, are you alright? he asked, taking one last look at the direction in which the man took off in. Yes, thanks to you, she said, rubbing her throat with her hand. It seems I owe you a debt of gratitude, mister..... The name's not important. What is is that you're safe and you can go on your way. Simp holstered his weapon, and Willy put his rifle back in its scabbard. I don't think he'll try it again anytime soon. The woman just looked at the two dusty, grimy men. It seems you two have been on the trail for awhile. Where you headin' to? Ma'am, no disrespect, but that's really none of your concern now, is it? Well, it might be if I plan to hang out with you two, she said evenly. Simp just looked at her in surprise. What do you mean, hang out with us? I don't have any pressing issues at the moment, except for the man who just attacked me, and I'd feel a lot safer with two strong men to travel with. So, once again, where you going? Simp could feel the strong will of this lady. South, to Mexico, he said finally. Willy gave him a dirty look, but he ignored it. Home of tacos and tequila, that's where we're goin' he added. She looked at Willy, and back at him again. No room for another long lost traveler? she asked. Depends, said Simp. On...? she asked. She really didn't expect these two to take a woman along with them, but it was

worth a shot. Especially after almost getting killed just a little while ago. Are you as tough as a man, or just a wannabe? he asked her, point-blank. Why don't you get your butt down here and let's find out, she snapped back. He just chuckled at that remark, and walked down towards the trees in which she was standing. He stood in front of her, and without warning, drew his weapon, aiming it directly at her heart. She crouched and drew at the same time, the hammer clicking back on the pistol. She held her fire, though, and he decided that she would make a most useful ally right then and there. Good, very good, he said, reholstering his weapon. She soon did the same, and he walked up to her with his hand outstretched. They call me Simp, and this here's Willy. You don't want to know his real name. She stuck out her hand, and he was surprised at the strength in it. Name's Dori, and glad to meet ya'll, she said. I'd still like to come with both of you though. Simp looked at Willy, who just shrugged his shoulders. Up to you, amigo, was all he said. He looked back at Dori, and thought that she might come in handy. Welcome aboard, he said finally, and they both mounted their horses and headed south. Simp was the first to start the conversation. Any family around these parts? he asked, not really expecting a response. I buried my baby brother just the other day, she said, and instantly her demeanor hardened. I'm sorry for your loss, Dori, said Simp. Willy just made the sign of the cross over his poncho. My daddy was killed trying to defend me from some perverted miners, and my mother died during childbirth for my brother. So its just me and the range, I reckon. Simp felt sorry for her. To lose so much at a young age was hard on a person, and what made it worse was that there was no one to take revenge on. He knew it first hand when he killed those two men during that botched stagecoach robbery. That was a total waste there, he thought to himself. He wasn't proud of that incident. Shooting a man in self defense was one thing; killing just for the hell of it was another.

Either way left a sour taste in his mouth. Well, Dori, I'm gonna be honest with ya, he said. We're not exactly the kind of people you wanna hang out with. We rob banks, trains, and anything else we can get our hands on. We're heading to Mexico to let things cool down, because we're both wanted men in the Arizona Territories. He expected her to just stop and turn her mount around, heading back into town. But she kept riding. Yeah, well, everyone has a bad side, don't they? she said. Simp was impressed with this girl. Already she was showing signs of being a cool customer. He decided to take a wild long shot. Have you ever heard of someone burying Confederate gold out here somewhere? he asked her. She took her time to think. You know, I did hear of something like that when I was younger, but never paid it no mind. I was told it was buried in some gold mine somewhere here in Arizona, but I wouldn't swear to it. Mining camp rumors, ya know. We've heard the same thing, but it was a gold mine, then a silver mine, and we're not quite sure what to believe. Besides, do you know how much it was worth, by any chance? Who knows? she answered. Could be in the thousands or hundreds of thousands. Won 't know til it gets found, right? True, he had to admit. But I'd like to find it, and it wouldn't hurt me any to split it three ways with both of you, if you'll help me. She pursed her lips, as if deep in thought. If I had the slightest clue to where it was at, I would let you know. But all I have is hearsay and rumors. Is there a map or anything like that that you know of? asked Simp. He was doing all the talking, and Willy was taking notes in his head. Not that I know of, she replied. Even if she did know, she wouldn't tell these two idiots. She had just met them and regardless if they had saved her life, the rumor of the lost treasure was just too much to resist. There were estimates of it to be in the millions. The only thing she couldn't figure out is why they

were so short of funds that they would bring that much currency out here to bury it. The Confederates had secondhand equipment, from the uniforms they wore to the artillery they fired. Everything was old and that money would have come in handy to finance their war effort. But apparently someone higher up wanted this gold hidden, to keep the Union soldiers from getting it. Perhaps on the orders of Jefferson Davis himself! They rode on in silence for awhile, the stars above shining brightly over the desert landscape. Every now and then they would hear a wolf howl his evening song to his mates. Willy led the way, since he knew every trail and hiding spot between here and the border, and the other two talked quietly amongst themselves. We should be in Mexico tomorrow, said Simp, watching the horizon from east to west to make sure they weren't being followed. That bounty hunter the other day had him spooked, and he would like nothing better than to avoid capture at all costs. If that happened, his next date would be with a hangman's noose. Have you ever stole before? he asked her, gently touching upon the subject. Once, she said, oh, about two years ago, I walked into a general store and swiped a pound of butter, she said, chuckling. By the time I got home, it had all melted in my coat pocket! She laughed at the memory. Nothing other than that? No banks, stagecoaches, or anything like that? Nope. Can't say that I did, she answered. Why are you asking me? Simp really didn't want to tell her their past, but he figured that if he had to trust her, she had to trust him too. Well, we've robbed a bank or two in our day, plus maybe some ore out of a mine.' She just looked at him. Well, you gotta do what you gotta do, was all she said. It was then that she noticed his albino eye. Why are your eyes two different colors? I don't have the slightest clue, he answered, but we have warrants in half the towns around here so we're trying to avoid them like the plague. I'm kinda easy to identify, ya know.

Yeah, I can see that, she said, no pun intended. None taken, answered Simp. He was kind of used to people noticing the different pigments of his eyes. He still wondered why that had happened, that if he was a genetic defect. That would explain the life of crime that he'd taken up since he was a teen. He always thought he was different, somehow; he was the bully in school until his pa made him quit to help work on the farm. He was always bigger for his age, and liked to pick on the younger kids. Pa used to whip him for being late coming home from school when he stayed after to try and comprehend the niceties of schoolwork, and finally he got sick of it and just stayed home. He'd learned his lessons the hard way, in the fields from sunup til sundown. On they rode, until the dawn's rays in the east made a grab for the sky and took the sun with it. They were nearing their destination, and just kept on going. They figured they'd stop one more time to water the horses and let them nibble on some grass. According to Willy, they were about half an hour away from a spring, and would then take the time to rest up and drink. He had to admit that Dori was a tough girl. She didn't complain once about the conditions or about having to keep on the move. Most women would have shouted themselves hoarse by now, but she said not a word. The only time she said anything was when he talked to her. They soon reached the spring, and let the horses drink their fill and rest for awhile. They made a small fire and Simp passed around the half empty whiskey bottle he'd been drinking from earlier. Willy fried up some tortillas for supper and they had some jerky. The conversations soon turned serious. Did you know we robbed a bank in Borderland? he asked Dori. She looked at him with those piercing blue eyes, and said nothing. Her expression never changed, either. Yeah, you told me that already. What else do you have on your resume? Instantly embarrassed and miffed by the sharp tone of her voice, he said nothing. His face turned a bright red and Willy thought for sure that he would get up and wallop her good. But he surprised himself even when he just sat there and stared into the fire. Oh, we've done a bank

and a stage or two here and there, he said. The easiest are the banks. It just normally takes five minutes to rob that. With a stagecoach you have to wait for it to show up, then hope that the man riding shotgun doesn't blow you to smithereens! She popped the last of her tortilla into her mouth, and stared into the fire. What makes you have those different color eyes? Simp didn't have an answer for that. I honestly couldn't tell you, he said truthfully. Something in the breeding or whatever. Who was that man tailing you? he asked. Seems like you have something he wants. I don't know, she answered. I've never seen him before in my life. Well, I have the feeling that he'll be back, sooner or later, so my suggestion would be that we get a move on while we can. They put out their little fire and mounted up. With the downed sun on their right they headed south along the stagecoach trail, and within an hour came upon railroad tracks. They decided to follow them for awhile until they came up to an abandoned station. Willy was the first to look at the sign. Southeast Station, he called back to the others. Simp was uneasy. It shouldn't be deserted like it was, but the facts didn't lie. It didn't even have the station keeper with it nor a team of fresh horses. Something didn't smell right here, and his hand went for his gun instinctively. He dismounted and walked up on the boardwalk, slowly making his way in the entrance. He held his gun at the ready, and walked into the building. At first he didn't see anything, but then he walked behind the makeshift counter and saw a man lying face down, his lifeblood on the floor underneath him. Someone ambushed the station, he said to the others. This one's dead. Go to the outbuildings and see if there's anyone else, Willy. Hokay, senor, he said, and walked out the door. Simp walked up to the dead man, and flipped him over onto his back. He had a neat little hole in his

chest right where his heart would be. That would explain all the blood. He wondered what kind of coldblooded creature would do such a thing. He'd had to kill in the past too, but usually it was self-defense. Only once did he shoot a man in the back, and had to live with that fact for the rest of his life. Willy soon returned and made his report. No one there, and all horses are gone. We need to get the hell out of here, said Simp. Something was eating at his guts about this one. He looked at the body again, and his eye caught a glint of silver reflecting in the sunlight. He bent down, and picked up a spent shell casing. A 44 caliber slug. Someone did this to warn them, to let them know that they were still being followed. Instantly his mind flashed back to the mysterious man that had attacked Dori earlier. Was it him, or someone else? And why would they slaughter an innocent man and take the horses? This all didn't make any sense to him.

Chapter 4

All three walked out of the station and mounted their horses. They continued on their trek to Mexico. There was no sense in staying here, because there was nothing they could do for a dead man. A couple of hours passed when they finally crossed over the border into Mexico. Simp put Willy on point because he knew where they were headed. He and Dori just kept following the Mexican, and soon were at a small white adobe building. They pulled up to the hitching post in front, tied their horses up, and walked inside the cool, dark interior of the building. It was like a breath of fresh air. The coolness revitalized all three and since the cantina was across the street, Willy had a girl fetch them some food and cool drinks. She soon returned with a big tray full of tacos, burritos, and beers for everyone. They took

their time eating, and afterwards drank their beers, letting out contented burps. Even Dori got in on the act with that. Senor, senorita, this is Maria, my oldest daughter. She will take care of you while we here in Mexico, hokay? Simp just nodded his head, and Dori stared at the girl. She was shorter than Dori was, but with a much darker complexion and thinner legs. She was a beautiful girl, though, she had to admit. Willy, you must be proud to have such a beautiful daughter, she said, taking another swallow out of the bottle. Very proud, senorita, she take after her mother, bless her soul, he answered, making the sign of the cross across his chest. Where is your wife? she asked, instantly regretting her stupidity. She should've figured out that she was no longer among the living, but her tongue ran before her mind did. Ah, she in heaven, senorita, watching over all of us, and praying for our souls, he said. Suddenly there was a commotion outside, and Willy motioned for everyone to stay still and be quiet. He walked outside, and saw that it was some local banditos coming into town to quench their thirst. He walked back into the hacienda. Is hokay, just locals coming to town for drinks. Simp got to his feet. He felt sore in spots that he didn't know he had. He chugged the rest of the bottle, then put it down and uncorked another one. He took a long swallow of that one, too. Willy, tell your daughter that I want whiskey, not beer, he said. Hokay senor, if that what you want, I tell her, he answered. Ungrateful bastard, he thought. Damn gringo thinks he runs the show, he thought to himself. And not that watered-down dog piss, either, he added, a scowl on his face. Last time I was down here I had the shits for a week. Dori got up and decided to walk around town. She didn't want to listen to Simp piss and moan all the while they were down here. She walked into the cantina and ordered herself a whiskey. The small dark-

haired man behind the bar served her promptly, and she slapped a coin down on the polished mahogany bar. He deftly picked it up, studied it, and put it in his pocket in satisfaction. She slammed the shot, and motioned for another. Hell, she thought, if she was gonna be around these kinds of people, she might as well get a good glow on.

The stranger almost succeeded. If it hadn't been for those two idiots who showed up, he would have had her, and it would have been the end of it. He would now have to find out where they headed and go there, to see if he could catch up to them. He noticed they headed south after they stopped chasing him, so he figured that they would head towards southern Arizona or possibly Mexico. He didn't know the men personally, so he didn't have a clue as to their ideas. Maybe that's where he should start, he thought. Look them up and see what kind of backgrounds they came from, see if they were criminals or something of the sort. That's what he would do. He would head for the nearest town and pore through the wanted posters. The man who shot at him had two different colors in his eyes. That would be helpful, he thought. He would peruse the wanted posters and see if this man was perhaps wanted by the authorities, and then he would make up his mind as to his destination.

Simp was bored. All they had done since arriving was drink and tell tall tales. It was high time that they jumped on the robbery bandwagon. He was tired of just sitting around and carousing. He needed action, and that's when he decided to leave. The other two were at the cantina having a drink when he mounted his horse and decided to cross the border by himself. He made it as far north as Nogales, and decided to spend a couple days in town to see how things went. It wasn't much in the way of towns, but at least it did have a bank, and where there was a bank, there was money. He cased out the place as much as possible without drawing undo attention to himself, and made mental notes of the comings and goings of the different people that went there. Soon he had a rough idea of how he would pull it off.

To make himself look even more honest, he decided to start a savings account. He walked in the bank and told the teller he wanted to start the account. The clerk gave him a paper to put his name and address on, and he handed the paper back along with a fifty dollar bill. He figured that he wouldn't miss it anyway, seeing as how sooner or later it would wind up back in his pocket. He went back to his hotel room, and thought that he would need a diversion. He could pull it off early in the morning right after the bank opened its doors. He would buy some dynamite and blow up the furthest building from the bank; that would attract the attention of the townsfolk. They would all go running to see what happened and he would just walk in calm as can be and walk out with all the money. Providing the safe was unlocked, of course. Maybe he could put a longer fuse on it, insist on speaking to the bank manager while the vault was open, then when the explosion went off he could just help himself to the cash. Yeah, he thought, that would be better. He figured that way there would be more attention on the explosion than on the bank. He went back to his hotel room and laid down on the bed, content with the fact that his grand plan was coming to fruition. Now all he needed to do was to get a hold of some dynamite and blasting caps. That shouldn't be a problem in a mining town, so he figured he'd do that once he woke up. A nap relaxed the mind as well as the body, and he figured that he was deserving of it. After all, he had a big afternoon planned.

Dori and Willy got back from the cantina to find Simp and his horse gone. Goddam, said Willy disgustedly. Can't tell him nothing! Don't worry, Willy, he'll be back, one way or another. He can't resist the temptation to steal something. You should know that by now. Where is there in town anything of value? Willy thought for a moment. Nothing here in town. He must've went back across the border. Sonuvabitch gonna get his ass in sling again! He raced towards his horse, with Dori in tow. Together they headed north towards the border to try and find their friend before the law found him.

Simp woke up, and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, got his boots on and walked out of the room. He went down the stairs, out the door, and headed down the boardwalk towards the general store. Once there, he purchased a case of dynamite and several blasting caps. Then he walked further on down to the end of town, found an empty building, and set up the dynamite. He attached the caps to the sticks and laid out about twenty feet of fuse cord. He then lit the cord and quickly made his way back into town to the bank. He wanted to hurry to catch the bank manager to where he would be in a position to forget to shut the vault. He walked in, and took off his hat. He stood in line behind a lady with a shawl around her shoulders, and waited his turn. He was getting kind of nervous by the time the teller called him to the counter. What can I do for you today, sir? she asked politely. Well, he said, I'd like to start a savings account, but I'd really like to talk to the manager about all my options. Well, sir, she looked around, we normally don't let anyone in without an appointment, but seeing as how no one else has his attention at the moment, please follow me. He followed her petite form behind the bars and sat in the proffered chair. The manager soon showed up, a chubby man with red cheeks and a thin hairline, looking like he just ran five miles with all the sweat that was pouring off of him. He nervously wiped his face and neck off with a handkerchief. So what can we do for you, son? he asked. Well, you can..... BOOM! The dynamite he planted blew up, and not a minute too soon, either. Everyone scattered, thinking it was the end of the world. The bank manager went running out the front door to see what was happening, just like everyone else. Now was his chance! Simp jumped up, and ran into the vault. He grabbed sacks of money, and taking all he could carry, ran out the back door into an alley, running back towards where his horse was stabled. He hid behind the

town buildings, watching for people but they were all too interested in the building that blew up. Soon he made it to the livery stable and loaded the sacks of cash into his saddlebags. He then mounted up and headed out of town at a leisurely trot so as not to attract too much attention. Once the town was in the distance, he urged the horse on to a gallop, trying to make good time and hide in the base of the mountains before they discovered what had happened. Soon the swirls of dust hid him from sight, and he disappeared like a wraith in the night.

The stranger made his way into Tucson, intent on looking at wanted posters at the city jail. He wanted to see if he could identify the man who had taken a shot at him and repay him in kind. He should be easy to spot with those different colored eyes, he figured. He had that clue to go on at least. He walked into the jail and the sheriff was sitting with his feet up on the large wooden desk. He looked up as the man entered his jail, and immediately was put on edge by his looks. The man stood a good six foot five, and probably weighed around two hundred and fifty pounds, and none of it looked like fat. He was wearing a black stetson with a matching dark colored vest, with a pearl handled revolver on each side of his waist. They looked well-worn and the man had a scarred face, probably from too many fistfights. He looked at the sheriff, nodded once, and walked over to the wall where the wanted posters were hung up. He perused them, casually flipping through the stacks of drawings, until he came up on the one he was looking for. The man in the picture looked like the man who had shot at him, and the description of him matched the discolored eyes perfectly. He looked at the name on the poster: Thomas Gordon Simpson. Now he had a name. All he had to do was ask around and soon Mr. Simpson would be pushing up daisies in Boot Hill, just like the other ten men he had put there. He turned around and walked back out of the sheriff's office. He glanced up and down the boardwalk, looking for the saloon. It was time for a couple shots of whiskey. Now that he knew who he was looking for he could kick back for tonight, and go hunting again in the morning.

Simp slowed his horse down to a trot to give the animal time to rest up and see if he was being followed. He didn't see any unusual dust swirling up other than the normal dust-devils that popped up here in the desert from time to time. He made his way through the creosote bushes and yucca plants and tried to think about what his next move would be. He knew that he shouldn't have left Willy and Dori like that, but the temptation was too much. A man gets a bellyful of alcohol in him and he's ten feet tall and indestructible. Or at least that's the way that it seemed. He thought that maybe stashing the cash somewhere might be a good idea, but he needed to find an area that was identifiable only to him. Besides, if a lawman caught up with him and he had all this cash, he'd be in a world of trouble trying to explain why he had it. One does not come across that kind of cash just lying around in the desert sands. He stopped the horse again, and looked from horizon to horizon to make sure that no one was coming. He soon came across a small outcropping of rock amongst the creosote bushes and got off his horse. He took the saddlebags off and proceeded to count the money inside. Ten minutes later he had an amount: $2,590 in cash, and about two hundred in coins. He walked over to the outcropping and kneeled down in the still-warm sand. He dug a hole about a foot deep, and put the saddlebags in it. He then covered it up, and with some small sticks lying around, put a small marker on top of the sand. He got up and remounted his horse, preparing to head back to town to blend in with the locals and shed any doubts about him. He reined in his mount, turned his head towards town, and made his way back along the stage road, whistling to himself. He stopped the horse, took one last long look around to familiarize himself with the landscape so he could find it again, and continued on.

Chapter 5

Dori and Willy made good time. By nightfall they were across the border, and found their way to the saloon. They tied their horses to the hitching post, and dusted themselves off. They stepped up on the

boardwalk and proceeded through the bat-wing doors into the brightly lit dance hall. People were everywhere. They were packed two deep at the bar and all the tables were full. It seemed like some kind of celebration was going on. They found an opening, and ordered their drinks. Then they turned themselves to the task of trying to find Simp. They were pretty sure he would stand out in a crowd, which was what they were hoping. Willy had no clue as to the big man's whereabouts, and figured that if he were in town this would be the most likely spot to find him. Dori was looking around, trying to recognize anyone, when the stranger in black walked in. He took a long look at the faces in the saloon. She turned quickly for fear of him recognizing her, and downed her drink. She ordered another, all the while trying to make herself blend in with the other patrons at the bar. Of all the small towns in the West, she figured, he had to be in this one. Go figure. Willy was listening to the casual conversations going on around him, and soon picked up that someone had robbed the bank in town earlier that day. He turned to tell Dori, and she just looked at him with a fear in her eyes. She motioned behind her, and that's when he noticed the big man staring into the room at the bat-wing doors. She looked at him, and said That's the one that tried to attack me earlier, and spread her arms wide. He turned and looked at the man in black, and at that moment he caught his eye. The man held his gaze for a minute, then he turned around and walked out. Willy downed his drink, and walked quickly outside to see where the man was heading to. But for a big man he was quick, and was nowhere in sight. He looked right, left, up and down but saw no sign of the tall stranger anywhere. He sighed and turned to walk back into the saloon. He bumped into a drunk coming out, and quickly stepped out of the way. The last thing he wanted now was to draw attention to him and Dori. So he stood aside, and let the man and his companions pass, one of them belching in Willy's face and laughing at him. He watched the drunk men saunter on down the boardwalk, then wended his way back inside, weaving a crooked path between other revelers towards Dori and the bar.

Simp slowly trotted back into town, from the opposite direction in which he had come. He reigned in

his horse at the saloon, and tied him up. He brushed the dirt off of himself, and walked into the den of inequity. A drink right now would sure quench the thirst in his throat, especially after a long, dusty ride through the desert. He made his way to the bar when he noticed the pair standing at the end of it. Sonuvabitch, he thought, they followed me! He walked up to the two, and grabbed them by their arms. They turned around in surprise, and smiled when they saw that the man grabbing them was Simp. Where you been? asked Willy. We leave cantina and find you gone. I had a bug up my behind, my friend, was his answer. He had a smile on his face as wide as a steer's horns. We need to head back down South, after I have a few drinks, that is. Word is the bank in town was robbed today. You wouldn't have any ideas about that, would you? asked Dori, already on her fifth drink. Nope, he snarled, and motioned them outside. Once there he let her have it. Don't you ever, ever, ever mention something like that in public again, lady, or you'll be out on your keester! he exclaimed angrily. He was so mad he wanted to slap her in the head just for making a comment like that. You never ever say that to me again! Sorry, was all she could say. Willy say we get the hell out of town. We have another problem, the Mexican guide added. Dori say man who follow her is here in town. We need to bug out, and quick like. Who? he asked. Look, Simp, I don't know who he is or what he wants, but he attacked me the other day, and would have probably killed me if you hadn't shot at him. Now he's probably looking for you too, with your different colored eyes and such, you won't be hard to spot. Simp thought about that. She was right, of course. Having two different colored eyes was a bit of a disadvantage, especially when someone was looking for you. Alright, he said, let's mount up and head

out of town. Just follow me and don't ask no questions, okay? They both nodded their assent, and untied their horses from the rail. They mounted up and were soon on their way to where Simp had stashed the moneybags. But unbeknownst to them, they were being watched. The big man in black made a mental note of the general direction in which they went, and went to the livery stable to retrieve his own horse. He paid the man off, and mounted up, following in the dusty hoof prints of the three that just left. He rode at an easy trot. The sun was just about to set, and he still had plenty of light in which to follow them. He just didn't want them to know they were being followed. He needed to be careful, and catch them at just the right time. He didn't worry that he was outnumbered three guns to one, for he could hold his own in a fight, whether by fists or guns. He'd put plenty of men on their backsides in his time, and would probably put more down. But he was being paid to finish this, and with half the money already spent, he needed to finish this and get this girl back to her husband, whether she wanted to or not. He would carry her kicking and screaming if he had to. He would rather not, but times were tough, and a man had to make money no matter what. He'd never left a job unfinished, and he wasn't about to start with this young filly. If the two men with her decided to protect her, well then so be it. He'd gunned down his share of wannabes before, and he wasn't at all worried about using his six-shooters.

Once they were well out of anyone possibly hearing their conversation, Simp turned to them and told them that he had robbed the bank and had come out here to stash the money. Willy just smiled that toothy grin and Dori had a look of amused surprise on her face. That's why he was so angry with me, she thought to herself. They left the rutted road and clumped in among the creosote and lechuguilla, careful to avoid anything with stickers on them. The last thing they wanted to do now was put down a horse. After half an hour they reached a small outcropping of rock, and Simp dismounted. He looked around once more, and reached down and scooped the dirt away from where he had buried the money. Soon he had the moneybags back in his possession, and put them on his horse.

Now we need to vamoose, he said, and noticed a small dust trail coming up the way. Uh-oh, we might have trouble, he added. The others turned to look the way he was and noticed a small dust cloud making its way towards them, too. They trotted back to the road, and kicked their horses into a swift gallop, raising even more dust. Dori would have lost her hat but for the string she tied on it to keep it from doing just that. The cool desert air felt good on her face, but she knew or rather, had a feeling, of who was following them. The big man in black, that's the only explanation for it. No one else was looking for them, or for her that she knew of. She knew that these two were wanted, but no one in town had given them a second glance, much less wanting to chase after them in the desert after the sun went down. They were all enjoying themselves in the saloon too much. Simp took another look behind him, and saw that their three horses were making a good dust cover. They made a series of turns, and found a clump of saguaro to hide behind. He waited for the dust to settle down, and noticed that their tail was still on the way. They continued on, and were soon upon the railroad tracks that headed towards Kansas City. They followed the tracks for awhile, then crossed over and headed in the opposite direction, towards their pursuer. He didn't know who it was or why he was following them, nor did he care. All he cared about right now was disappearing and making themselves scarce. Probably some knucklehead in town noticed his eyes, and was coming for the reward. But the more that he thought about it, the less it made any sense. If that were the case, they would have arrested him long before he robbed the bank, or even while he was in making his 'fake' deposit. No, it was someone else chasing them. Maybe the big man dressed in black? Possible. He already tried attacking Dori once, and he got a good look at Simp after the man had shot at him. If that were the case, they needed to find a hiding spot, and either disappear or shoot it out with him. Trouble was, the sun was down and it was getting dark. No one in their right mind would want to have any gunplay when you couldn't see two feet in front of you. They followed the tracks for a few minutes more, and then made a hard left once again, to swing back

into the hills that surrounded the town. They needed to disappear; heading into Mexico wouldn't stop this man. He would just pursue them across the border. There was a good chance he wasn't a Federal Marshal or a sheriff, and he wouldn't much care much for the niceties of the law.

It was right after they got going again that they noticed they were being followed. Damn, he swore to himself. This dust leaves a trail that a blind, deaf, and dumb man could follow. Well, so be it. He'd been spotted. They took off at a fast trot at first, sticking to the stagecoach road, then headed off towards the tracks. He analyzed the situation, and thought that they might make a beeline back for town, so he slowly arced himself to his right to try and cut them off. He stopped for a minute, to gather his bearings, and noticed that they were following the tracks back into town when they suddenly veered to their left a gain. Nope, he thought, they were going to hide in the hills. He urged his mount even faster, and soon the black stallion was foaming at the mouth with its exertion. He needed to cut the distance as much as possible with the light going quick. He stopped to give his horse a brief rest, and slowly looked at his options. He could continue straight and try to hunt them in the hills at night, or he could circle back towards town following the tracks, and camp out just outside of town in case they made for it in the morning. He thought that would be their best course of action once daylight came. Or they may just try to cross the border again. Either way, he would be ready, and border or not, it wouldn't stop him. He'd been paid a nice sum for this job, twice as much as he normally charged, and would finish it, come hell or high water.

They finally made it to the treeline, and hunkered down in a little hollow with a good view of the way they had come from. They didn't want to be surprised by whoever this man was. Maybe he was a bounty hunter, Simp thought. Now why would anyone want to hunt him down? He hadn't robbed a bank in five years, except for today, and hadn't done anything that he could think of since then. They tied their horses up in a small copse of trees to let them rest, and nearby was a small pool of water from which they could drink. They needed their horses fresh for the morning, so they put them to where they could drink and

munch on grass for the night. Who is this guy? Simp asked Willy. The slim Mexican just shrugged his shoulders. Don't know, senor, he said. Maybe bounty hunter? Maybe, said Simp. But who's he comin' after? It was then that both men simultaneously looked at Dori. What? Why you two lookin' at me like that for? she asked, wondering where this was all going. I haven't done anything, not that I know of anyway. The two men looked at each other, then back at Dori. Is there anyone who would want you dead or alive, for any reason, that you can think of? Simp asked her point-blank. She thought for a minute then shook her head. No, not that I.....Wait a minute, I got it now! Well, you gonna let us in on it? asked Simp impatiently. He was getting irritated with her now. I think I know who's causing all this, she said, finally. My ex-husband. Your ex-husband? What do you mean, your ex-husband? Well, I kinda took something that belonged to him, or rather, to his family, and he holds grudges, she admitted. Well, thought Simp, that would sure do it. Leave it to a woman to do some crazy stunt like that. What'd you take? he asked. Oh, she said, only about five thousand dollars! Is that it? I can't see anyone wanting that back! he shot back sarcastically. My god, what kind of mess did this girl get them into? It wasn't bad enough that they could get themselves in trouble, now they had to deal with her problems too. They took turns keeping an eye out for their mysterious shadow. The small fire that Willy had built to make coffee with was slowly dying into hot embers, and they wanted to keep it as small as possible. They didn't want to be surprised. All three had their weapons at the ready just in case they were ambushed. Dori took the first watch, then Willy, and finally Simp stayed up until dawn came. There was no sign of

their pursuer, so he woke the other two and they broke camp, making sure the fire was out completely, and then mounting their horses for the long ride back into Mexico. They wanted to put as much distance between themselves and their shadow as possible, and ride as much as they could in the early morning hours to get a good jump start on the day. By mid-day they had about 10 miles between them and town, and were just coming up on the border when they noticed a small dust trail following them. Dammit, thought Simp, we didn't get as much of a head start as he would've liked. He motioned to Willy, who took a look in the direction in which he was pointing, and they started galloping towards the border and minimal safety.

Chapter 6

The stranger wasn't about to let his prey off that easy. He was up well before daybreak, and had gotten his horse ready for the long ride south. He figured that they would make a line to the border, and once again his guts told him that he was right. Now he just needed to catch up and stay behind far enough to where he could watch their every move. They could try, but they weren't going to get away that easy. He had been a tracker for many years, just as his father and grandfather had done. He had learned his lessons well, and had made a living out of hunting human beings. It was a lucrative business, and it kept him fed and never short of money. He had almost given it up once before, when he was engaged to a beautiful redhead, but it didn't work out. She up and left for San Francisco one day and he never even got a letter explaining why. Ever since then he figured he'd keep his mind on his work, and not worry about any womenfolk. To him they were just a distraction, and a distracted man is a broke man. He reached for his water jug and took a quick sip. He replaced the cap, and peered far ahead to the horizon where his prey was. Nothing. Not so much as a faint dust cloud. Now where could they have

hidden out here? There was nothing but scrub, prickly cholla, and creosote, and a man couldn't hide very well behind any of that. He peered off to his right, and noticed a set of railroad tracks off in the distance. So there must be a station around here, he thought. Well, he would follow the tracks and see if they had stopped to rest their mounts. After a mile or two more, he spotted an adobe building off in the distance. That must be where they had stopped, he figured. He pointed the stallion's head in that direction, and he soon approached a broken down hut bleached white by the sun. He listened intently for a minute or two, then dismounted and walked towards the entrance. He tied off his horse to the hitching post, and walked in, pistol drawn. It took a second or two for his eyes to adjust to the darkness after staring at the bright sand all day long, when something caught his eye. He crouched down behind a table, and listened. He heard nothing, not even the sigh of the wind. He stood up, and walked further into the building. It was spartan in nature, with just the one table and three chairs and an old broken down desk in the far corner. There were empty cans littering the floor, and he walked carefully towards the open window, not wanting to kick any of the cans and make any noise to announce his progress. He reached the window and peered outside. He saw nothing but desert, and made his way back to the door. He walked around the corner of the building, and leaned up against the warm adobe, trying to attract as little attention as possible. He peered around the back and still there was nothing. He holstered his weapon, turned around, and walked back to his horse. Dammit, he thought, I lost 'em! There was no possible way, though. They were directly ahead of him, and this was the only shelter for miles. It was then that he realized that they had probably turned west to head into the wind, where their tracks would be blown clear of the sand. How could he let this happen? He was better than that. He remounted his horse and headed west, urging his mount on to try and catch his prey.

The three amigos laid down in the small wash, with Simp poking his head up occasionally to check to see if their shadow was still following them. He figured that he would at least stop at the station to make

sure that they weren't there, and therefore give them a little more time to hide. He also counted on the fact that the further they got away, the murkier the desert heat would make it harder to see them. After half an hour of laying in the dirt, they got up and brushed themselves off, remounted their horses, and headed back to the relative safety of the station. They wanted to make sure that he was gone, and not just hiding out. They reached the adobe hut, and tied their horses to the hitching post. They entered the building, and were immediately hit with the relative coolness of the station versus out in the open desert. Dori and Simp got busy making a simple meal, while Willy kept a sharp lookout for their shadow. Dori found a broom in a closet, and busied herself with sweeping all the cans and other trash into a pile in a corner, while Simp opened up some cans of beans that they had with them. He also set out some beef jerky for them to munch on. A fire was impractical due to the smoke rising, which one would be able to see for miles, so he took out the two remaining bottles of whiskey he had in his saddlebags. He then took the moneybags off of the horse, and dumped the contents on the table, leaving Dori to whistle under her breath. Soon Willy came back in. No sign of danger, senor, he said, and his face lit up when he saw the contents of the moneybags lying there. Wow, senor, you still have it. Simp just smiled. Yeah, Willy, I still have it, he said, and proceeded to sit down gingerly in one of the rickety chairs. It creaked under his weight, but held. Dori went back to her cleaning, and Willy sat down opposite Simp. What we do now, senor? he asked the big man. We'll split this up three ways, then I think it might be a good idea if we all separated and went our own way, to put our friend in black on the wrong track, he said. As he said that, he was secretly hoping that Dori might want to come with him. He was finding her presence comforting and she wasn't too hard on the eyes, either. Suddenly a screech came from the other end of the hut. Simp and Willy both got up, knocking their

chairs over in the process and drawing their weapons. What's wrong? he asked. She reached down into the pile of trash that she was sweeping, and pulled up a piece of paper, a bit wrinkly and with many folds and creases in it, and blew the dust off of it. Well, I'm no miner, but this looks like a map to a mine, she said, handing the paper over to Simp for inspection. He looked at it and whistled. Yeah, it sure is, he said, shaking the paper to dislodge the remainder of the dust and dirt from it. It sure does look like a map to a mine. Wonder what its doing here. Willy looked at it. That, senor, is a map to a silver mine, if my eyes don't deceive me, he said. And if the directions are correct, this mine is not too far away from here. The three of them just looked at each other, and smiles crossed their faces. Not only did they have the bank loot, but now they had a map to a silver mine. But having a map and having the actual silver were two different things, and they all knew it. Well, Simp said, what should we do? Follow this map, or head back to the hacienda? We're not gonna do nothing down there but drink and cause trouble anyways, said Dori, so I propose that we head to this mine and check it out. Its the very least we should do. How far, Willy? asked Simp. He watched the Mexican carefully. He was staring into space, as if he didn't hear the man. Finally, after what seemed like fifteen minutes but was actually two, he answered him. We follow the tracks about three hours north. The mine should be about two miles off the tracks, and then we shall see. Simp looked at each person in turn. Are we agreed, then? We find this mine and work it? Or do we head south to Arroyo del Fuego? They agreed unanimously. They would head toward the mine, and stake their fortune there. Hopefully no one else would have a claim on it, otherwise this trip would be a complete and total waste of time. Besides, heading there would throw off their would-be shadow, and perhaps they could trap him in a

canyon or arroyo somewhere and ambush him, find out what he was up to. They all finished eating, and polished off one bottle of whiskey, then packed up their belongings, grabbed the map, and headed north, following the tracks. As they traveled alongside the tracks, they gradually widened the space between the path they were on and the tracks themselves, to throw off any followers. They stopped, and Simp figured that once the sun touched the tip of the mountain peak in the west, they would veer off in that direction and head directly into the sun. He figured they had about another hour of riding to do, and then should be at the mine. He let Willy ride point, since he knew more about this area than he did. Dori was looking a bit ragged by this time, but he knew that she was a tough lady and would keep going. They were nearing the base of the mountains now, and followed Willy into a small wash which gradually widened out to become a canyon, albeit a narrow one. He led them over some fairly rocky ground where hardly anything grew, and it seemed to Simp that they were making good time. Only once did Willy hold up his hand, giving the party the signal to stop and be quiet, when he heard rocks above falling. He turned and his gaze followed the area to where the rocks had fallen, and had seen a small mountain goat on top of the canyon rim. They breathed a sigh of relief, and kept on going. After another hour they finally found what they were looking for: a dark hole in the side of the canyon wall. Here they would camp for the night. They had good protection from the elements and from any surprise attacks, and decided to light a small fire and heat up some beans and bacon, their first good hot meal in a while. Simp and Willy went to investigate the opening while Dori was cooking their supper. They saw that it was timbered up to a point, and Willy walked around until he found a stick about two inches thick by about three feet long. This they would use for a torch to check out the cavern more closely. He ripped some of his shirt into shreds and wrapped it around one end of the stick, and put that end into the fire to use as a torch. With that in hand, they proceeded to enter the mine and check out things for themselves. It was much cooler and darker than they thought it would be. The ground was level for about fifty feet,

then it slowly started to angle downwards. They made it about two hundred feet in when Dori hollered down into the opening that their supper was ready, come and get it while its hot. They looked at each other, took one more look at some of the timbering, and headed back towards the entrance. They sat around the campfire eating, and didn't have much to say, except that they were still concerned with whomever was trailing them, and how to put an end to it. All they knew was that this man was a professional, and none of them had ever seen him before. Soon the campfire was down to glowing embers, and they laid back and relaxed, their bellies full and the whiskey making them sleepy. Soon Simp dozed off, watching the slight breeze in the canyon slowly swirl the smoke of the fire around, and gently blow it away from them. The others were already fast asleep, and he figured that if they wanted to get an early start in the mine, he needed to get his rest too.

He suddenly awoke with a start, a noise coming up the canyon. He immediately reached for his sixgun, waiting for trouble. He reached out with his hearing, but didn't hear any other noises. He figured it was just a rockfall or another mountain goat making noise, but he wasn't sure. He figured that daylight was only a couple of hours away anyways, and that he might as well get up. Willy heard him get the fire going again, and woke up. Simp figured that it was nice to have the company, and the two talked together in low tones so as not to wake Dori. She seemed to be a good woman, and they had yet to see how she handled a gun battle, but other than that she appeared to be running from something. Sure, they said, that she told them that she stole five thousand dollars from her ex-husband and they could see him being upset about that, but it was no amount worth having her killed. It just didn't make any sense. Was there something she wasn't telling them? Soon the sun's rays hit the tops of the trees above them, and Dori finally rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and woke up. She looked at each in turn. Good morning, she said. We'll see if its a good morning in about another hour, said Simp. He got up, walked over to his horse, and took out a hammer and chisel from one of his bags. He then headed back into the mine

entrance, and disappeared. Willy just looked at him, and took another sip of coffee. What's eating him? asked Dori. Oh nothing, senorita, he just like that. He a loner. Oh, okay. She got up and poured herself a cup of steaming coffee, enjoying the full flavor that it offered her. She took another sip, and glanced around the canyon. Kinda out in the open here, don't you think? she asked him. We be okay, said Willy. No one bother us here. No one know we here. She hoped that he was right. If that man in black got the slightest idea of where they were, he'd come in here guns blazing and there was nowhere to hide except in the mine entrance. There were a few big boulders strewn about, but not as many as she liked. Granted, they were surrounded on three sides, but he could ride on top of the canyon and shoot straight down, and there was nowhere for them to hide. Willy finished his coffee and got up, walked over to his horse, and grabbed a pouch of tobacco. He sat back down and proceeded to roll himself a smoke. Nothing like the bite of tobacco in the back of your throat to wake you up and make your day better. He finished rolling, licked the paper, and lit it with a stick from the fire. Then he sat back contentedly and smoked, blowing out small rings with his mouth. Dori got up, set her cup down, and walked towards one of the bigger boulders. I have to use the little ladies' room, she said. Willy just waved to her. Simp came out of the mine entrance. Hey, Willy, you got to see this! he said excitedly. Willy got up, and went to follow his partner into the mine. After about fifty feet there was a shaft that ran on a ninety degree angle towards their right. He led the Mexican into the shaft and they walked in about twenty feet, and he kneeled down. He pointed at the rock wall, and with his hammer and chisel broke out a small piece of rock. Lookit this, he said. Willy took it and looked at it. I see nothing, senor. Okay, take it outside, then come back. Willy walked back outside, and Dori was sitting by the fire. Standing next to her with a pearl-handled

revolver pointed at her head was a very large man dressed all in black. Oh shit, said Willy, and he dropped the rock. He didn't even look at it. The big man spoke, a deep, husky voice that reverberated throughout the canyon. My name's unimportant. The fact that I have this lady is. What's your next move, Mexicali? Willy just stood there, rooted to the spot. He couldn't reach his gun fast enough, for the man would blow a hole in Dori's head bigger than crap. What could he do? Maybe talk his way out of this? Why you want her? What she done to you? he finally croaked. She never hurt a hair on my head, said the big man. Trouble is, the man who's payin' me to get her, now, she's hurt him right at his worst sore spot, right in the billfold. What she to you? Willy was visibly shaking now. What she to you? What she to me? She's worth a lot of money to me, my friend. I've been paid to haul her ass back to her husband to pay for what she's taken from him, that's what. And I aim to do what I'm paid to do. Willy didn't know what to do. Dori had the look on her face of pure terror. She didn't dare move for fear of having a slug in her brain. How much you want, man in black? How much it cost for you to forget the bounty on her? The big man just leaned back and roared out laughing. You don't have enough money, my friend, even if you combine everything you and your friend stole from the bank in Nogales the other day. He ignored the look of stupidity on Willy's face. Yeah, I know you two did that, and I honestly could care less. I aim to make more money hauling lil miss pennyfoot here back to her husband and collecting the reward on her head. There's nothing you can do about it, so if I was you, I'd let me and her just ride off into the sunset and forget about us. That is, unless you wanna start wearing a wooden suit. Willy had his daughter to think about. No, he didn't want to die. Not just yet, anyway. Well, senor, seems you have upper hand. I guess I have no choice but to let you have her. That's the smartest thing you've done all month, Mexicali, he said menacingly. Now, back into the

mine, and don't come out until you've counted to a hundred. That's if you can count. He started laughing at that. Get your ass in that cave, mister, said the big man. And don't come out, or she gets it straight through the brain. Willy didn't seem to have a choice. With a last look at Dori, who looked absolutely terrified, he backed into the mine entrance and sat down to start counting. He heard her muffled screams outside as the stranger dragged her off, and wished that there was something he could do. But what? With a gun pointed at someone's head, one's options were limited. He ran back into the cave to where Simp was to let him know what happened. Outside the mine entrance, the stranger dragged Dori over to his horse, and dug out some rope out of his saddlebags. He tied her up, then tied her to her horse. He then dug out some dynamite and cord out of his pack, then walked back to the hole in the side of the canyon. He dug a little hole and placed the dynamite in it. With that done, he set about lighting the fuse. Once lit, he walked back to his horse and got up, grabbed the reins of Dori's horse, and started back out of the canyon. They were about halfway down the wash when the dynamite went off. A loud BOOM reverberated throughout the canyon, and a large cloud of dust followed them out. The big man just smiled as he figured that he wouldn't have to watch his back anymore. He had the person he was hired to find, and now it was off to Kansas City to bring her back to her husband, not to mention collect the last half of the payment that he was due. That would set him up handsomely, he figured. He could finally buy a ranch and settle down, and wouldn't have to do this anymore.

Chapter 7

The dust in the cave almost choked the two men into oblivion. Simp gathered himself up and swore. Damn, he thought, trapped like rats. He needed to find Willy, and make sure he was okay. His question

was answered in a few minutes when the guide slowly made his way back towards him, hacking and coughing from the dust. What happened, Willy? he asked him, coughing himself. Big man took Dori, he answered, then sealed us in here. We trapped, senor, until we can dig our way out. Oh lovely, thought Simp. Not only was Dori gone, but now they had to figure out how to survive in here. Just great. Okay, Willy. Let's go look at the damage, he said, choking and coughing some more, then spitting out a big wad of dirt. The two men made their way back towards the entrance, and once the dust settled, saw that they were indeed trapped. They started to move the rubble by hand, and soon had an airhole in which to breathe. I don't think he wanted to kill us, just delay us long enough to disappear with Dori, said Simp. As he was digging he was looking at the ore, and spotted bits and pieces of silver in it, along with an occasional flake of gold. Holy shit, Willy, if we make this work, lookit all the gold dust mixed in with the silver! Willy was too busy digging to worry about precious minerals. He just wanted to get the hell out of here. Since the man in black planted the dynamite in the ground, it absorbed most of the blast, and they soon had dug their way out of their predicament. Once they got out of their tomb, they both sucked in the fresh air like they had never had any before. Simp took off his hat and wiped his dirt-caked face with his sleeve, and Willy did the same. They noticed that the man left their horses but took Dori's. That meant that he was slowed down, and wouldn't be able to travel very fast. He had some explaining to do, as far as Simp was concerned. Now they just needed to figure out in which direction they were headed. Where you figure they went, Willy? asked the big man. Willy thought for a moment. Don't know, senor. Dori never say where she was from. Simp thought about that for a minute. Okay, we'll head towards the tracks, and figure out something

from there. Maybe we can pick up their tracks in the sand. Maybe, senor. I do my best.

Dori was pissed, she was madder than a rattlesnake being teased with a stick. Not only had this man caught up to her, but she was hogtied like a calf at a rodeo. She couldn't even scratch her nose when it itched, which it was doing right now. Let me go, you big bastard! she shouted at him. She shrugged against her bonds, but found that it was no use, they were too tight. He just looked back at her and chuckled. Ah, he thought, but she was a feisty one! She was one of his more challenging captures, and once he got to Kansas City he would buy a ranch somewhere outside of Dodge City and settle down. The captain wanted his wife back something fierce for what he paid him. Ten thousand dollars, with half up front, was no laughing matter in this day and age. That would buy a lot. He figured he could buy up a nice chunk of ranch land and raise horses or cattle, then make money sending them to the railhead in Abilene to be shipped out east. Either way he would make money, and he counted the days. He figured they'd be in Kansas City in about 3 days, give or take, depending on how much trouble she would give him. And if he was any judge of character, she would give him a ton. She was already griping about the rope that held her bound to her horse, and about being hot and all. Well, she might as well get used to it, he thought. It was gonna be a long ride. They followed the railroad tracks for most of the first day, then reached one of the stagecoach stations nearby. He figured that they would spend the night there, get a good hot meal and stretch out a little bit. He had it all planned out that the two men that were with her wouldn't have any clue as to what direction they were heading in, so he was in no hurry. He untied her long enough for her to eat her meal and stretch out, then they headed about a mile out away from the station and made camp for the night. He found a large rock in which to tie her up to, and then proceeded to make a small fire and boil some water for coffee. He had whiskey in his saddlebags, but he wasn't in the drinking mood until he had delivered his

bounty. Then he would have all the time in the world to get drunk. And get drunk he would. Probably tear apart a saloon or two just for old times' sake. His name was Jacob, but most men called him Jake. He'd been raised by a strict father, and from what he remembered, his mother died while giving birth to him. His father always blamed him for that, and as a child growing up he could never figure out why. He grew up tough and strong, always working when the other kids could play or go to school. He never did attend a school, but his father did at least teach him to read and write. He wanted to make sure that his son would keep up the family tradition and become a feared bounty hunter. He was a big man by most standards, standing six foot five and all muscle. He had worked hard all his life, and his hands were calloused from years of digging post holes, raising cows, and tilling the land. He was no stranger to hard work, and the life he led only challenged him that much more. He loved the thrill of the hunt. Hunting deer or bear was one thing; hunting a human being was another. He became very good at his profession, so good in fact that his name was almost legend when it came to bounty hunting. He'd been hired by sheriffs, Federal Marshals, and whole towns even to hunt down even the most elusive prey. They thought that since he was so good at tracking that he was part Indian. But that wasn't the case. His family came from Europe. He was a mix of Irish, English, German and Welsh, and by all standards his hair should have been as red as a sunset. But the Welsh in him gave him his black hair, and he was afraid of no one, man nor beast. He'd taken on some of the worst dregs of humanity that the West had to offer, and had sent many a man to prison. He didn't care; as long as he got paid for his work he did it, and he did it well. Finally he decided that they stop for the night. He found a rock outcropping that would protect his back, and got her off her horse to walk around a bit. He even loosened the ropes that bound her. She gave him a dirty look, but that was all. She stretched out and walked a little back and forth, all the while looking straight at her captor. She finally decided to ask him some questions. Why are you doing this? she asked. What could you possibly gain to kidnap me? I have no idea

who you are, nor do I care. All I can say is, get these ropes off of me and we'll see who outdraws who! He just looked at her and smiled. I'm not impressed with your show of bravado. I am merely doing a job for which I have been paid. After I deliver you to your destination your fate is not my concern. My ex-husband did this, didn't he? she sputtered. That dirty lousy no-good bastard! He smiled at her again. Ma'am, I have no quarrel with you, nor your husband. I have been paid to do a job, its as simple as that. Now if you'll be kind enough, I'll take the ropes off of you so you can eat and make yourself comfortable. But I won't be this nice again. Give me a hard time and I'll give you a hard time back. She just scowled at him at that comment, but she figured that she might as well do as he wished. There wasn't much choice in the matter from what she could see. How much is my husband paying you? she asked. I could double it. I sincerely doubt that, lady, said the big man, stirring the pot of beans. He took out his knife and she started to get nervous, but he sliced up some bacon to put into the pot. Okay, she thought, money isn't his thing. Or is it? How much? she persisted. Well, if you must know, ten thousand, he said finally. Really? she spouted. I'm only worth ten thousand? What a cheapskate! She was outraged. She'd given him 5 years of her life, and she was only worth ten thousand dollars? What a jackass! She'd get even with him, one way or another. He mixed in the bacon with the beans and was stirring it around. He looked up at the western sky, and noticed that it would soon be dark. Better get your bedroll ready, he said. Be dark soon. She thought better about arguing with him. It didn't seem that he was out to be cruel or punish her in anyway. He was just doing a job, plain and simple, and she figured the less she fought, maybe he would get lax with her. She took the proffered plate of bacon and beans and proceeded to eat. It was good, she thought. She

didn't realize she was so hungry. It had been a long day, and all she had that day was the cup of coffee by the mine before this bozo showed up. She ate and with a contented burp, set her plate down and went to lay on her bedroll. Soon the stars started to come out, and she thought about how beautiful and bright they looked. She remembered then as a little girl how she used to stare at the sky at night in their backyard, staring up at the sky for hours at a time. She had a warm feeling at the memory of that. Soon she was fast asleep, and the outside world existed no more.

Simp and Willy were still trying to figure out in which direction they had gone. He had grown quite fond of Dori, and was upset that she had been taken. Ex-husband or not, he was bound and determined to find her. They soon spotted double horse tracks heading north, and they both wondered where he was taking her. She didn't give you any clue whatsoever as to where she was from? Simp asked the guide. No, senor, not a clue, was his answer. He was beginning to think that the big man had the hots for her. Not that he blamed him, she was an attractive woman. Granted, she'd look better in a pretty dress than in the coat and dungarees she was wearing now, with the six-shooter at her waist. But he had to admit, she did have a nice figure. It was times like this when he missed his wife the most. Although his life had turned to petty theft and robbing banks, when Consuella was alive he was a good, hardworking man. He never stole, never even swore. They had one daughter together, Maria, and she had turned out to be a very beautiful young lady. Consuella always prided herself on having the cleanest house in the town, and until the sickness took her away from them she had always worked hard at making sure her family had a good supper at night and a good breakfast in the morning. But when she died, he renounced his belief in God and started to drink more. He figured that it wasn't fair, that he should have her back. Even Maria, who was ten at the time, didn't think it fair that God should take her Mama away from her. But there was nothing they could do.

She had developed tuberculosis, and all the town doctor could do was to tell Willy to make her comfortable. After she died, he buried her in a corner of their land, and hand carved the headstone himself. At first he went to her grave every day, but then the alcohol took over and it became less and less frequent. Even Maria started to wonder about him. That was when he started to head across the border and he'd come back with sacks of coins or wads of bills. He knew the land like the back of his hand, and he was often hired out as a guide for the Texans who wished to bring their cattle up from Mexico to Texas and Kansas. He learned the trails well, and it benefited him in the long run. He took his knowledge of the trails and paths and turned that into a life of crime. He always made sure that Maria had the best of everything, but still, she was disappointed in her father for his choice of making a living. She knew he was better than that. But she didn't argue with him. She stayed home in the hacienda, working occasionally at the cantina across the street to make a few pesos of her own, to buy her material to make her own dresses and such. But when he did come home, he often told her stories of how much money he made, but he never came home with it. He would always bury it somewhere and in his room was a map of where all the money he stashed was hidden. The only thing Maria wanted for was the love of her father. She missed the old Father terribly, but felt that she couldn't do anything about changing him. He was too set in his ways. She always had the fear in her belly that he would cross the border one of these days and not come back, except for in a pine box. But she kept up a strong facade and did as she was told. Now, after work, she sat in the hacienda alone waiting for her father to come home, as usual. She was seventeen and a woman now, but she still missed her father, her papa. Deep down he was a good man, and she didn't want to see him hurt. She also wanted him to know that there was a boy in town named Diego that she wanted him to meet, that she had been seeing. She wanted to marry the boy, but she also wanted her father to know him first before they did such a thing. Diego was a good man for her, he helped her at the cantina when he was not working in the fields, and he treated her like a woman, not like a slave. Most women who married were often treated no better than animals, and the fact that she was

treated as an equal was something that she was proud of. Diego would take care of her, and her children, if they were so blessed. But she wanted her father to meet him, to get his blessing. But first he needed to come home, to come back from where he happened to be at this moment, to come home to his family.

Jake was up at the break of dawn. He got up, started a small fire, and put water on to boil for coffee. He looked at the woman sleeping across from him. He felt no malice towards her, for she was just a bounty. That's what he got paid to do. Track people and bring them in, no matter if it was for a town sheriff or for a personal reason. The sky in the east was brightening, and he decided it was time for her to get up. He kicked at her feet, and she stirred, mumbling in her sleep. He kicked her feet again, and she got up and glared at him. Let's go, lady, time's a wastin' he said. Eat yourself some breakfast, then we hit the trail. Kansas City is a long ways from here. Oh great, she thought, back to that town. She left it not only because her husband lived there, but because she hated the city life and wanted to carve a niche for herself out in the untamed lands of the Western territories. And now here she was being dragged back into it by this lout. If only there were some way to make him change his mind... She thought about that little problem fast and furious for awhile, and every solution that she'd come up with batted zero. He tied her up, helped her remount her horse, and once again they were on the way to Kansas City.

Simp and Willy followed the tracks for several miles, then stopped to eat. They didn't make a fire for fear of being spotted and had a meager meal of jerky and water. Soon they were on their way again, and Willy soon spotted something amidst the creosote bushes, a tell-tale sign that someone had been here recently. Look senor, he said, pointing at the ground, two sets of tracks, with one heavier than the other.

Must be big man's horse. Plus, look at this string. They were here, I'd swear to it. Simp looked down, and nodded his agreement. So they were on the right path. Good, he thought. Now they could make some time knowing that they were behind them. Several hours later, they came across a small firepit that was still warm. Willy got off his horse, and held his hands above the embers. Not long, senor, he said, and followed the tracks down out of the outcropping of rock. He looked around the horizon, and decided on a course of action. There, senor, he said, pointing the way northeast. Simp looked in the direction indicated, but could see nothing but a haze. Where do you think they're headed? he asked the guide. Hard to tell, senor. So many towns and forts, they could go anywhere. Wonderful, just wonderful, said Simp disgustedly.

Chapter 8

Simp wasn't too sure about chasing after a girl. Especially one he'd only known for a few weeks. He'd already shot at a man because of her, and didn't want to be shot at in turn. But something was nagging him at the back of his mind, something that he hadn't felt in years. He thought he was actually starting to care for her. That's why he would go to such lengths to rescue her from the big boy in black. They rode east until they came upon the railroad tracks, then headed north. They followed them all the way to Albuquerque, then headed northeast towards Santa Fe. The weather changed on them, with a thunderstorm blowing in off the mountains and soaking man and horse. They barely had enough time to dig out their slickers before the deluge began. They needed to find a shelter to spend the night, and kept their eyes open as their horses plodded forward. With the rain it would make it harder to track them, but it would also slow their prey down, too. Simp figured that maybe, just maybe, they would head towards the nearest town with a railroad. If the stranger

kidnapped Dori on the orders of her ex-husband, perhaps he was close by. If he was far enough away they might take the train to their final destination. If not, then it would be a several day ride through Comanche territory, which he seriously doubted that he would want to do, especially by himself. He would not only have to defend himself, but also the woman too. Maybe they'd lay up in Santa Fe until things cooled off, until he knew that they weren't being followed anymore. So many variables, so many situations that this could go, it was enough to drive Simp nuts. But he found with each passing day that he cared for Dori more and more, and would do just about anything to rescue her from the big man. They walked the boardwalks of town that day, asking anybody and everybody if they had seen the man in black. Most came back as no, but a few people said they did remember someone of that description with a woman. So, thought Simp, they were on the right path. Soon, my friend, soon we'll meet again. And this time I won't miss!

Jake and Dori were well on their way to Kansas City. They left Albuquerque, and followed the trail that led to La Junta, which took them most of a day and a half. Once there, they decided to lay up for the night, and in the morning would cross the Mora River. After that, they were on God's good graces. Although the Cimarron Trail was shorter, it was also more dangerous. It passed through Comanche and Apache territory, and with just the two of them by themselves, it could be a very bad encounter indeed. But Jake was willing to take the risk. Ten thousand dollars would make any man do it. He had given the Captain his word that he would bring his wife back, and he fully intended to keep that promise. However, he didn't count on the two men who were following them; he figured that once they were in Santa Fe they would be home free. Now it would be his turn to be the prey. Little did he know that one of the men tracking him was an expert, both in animal and human. He would find out soon enough, though. While in La Junta he stocked up on his supplies, buying plenty of ammunition and food. He also bought two more water jugs, for their travels would take them across the great prairies where there was no water. He also bought a new rifle and scabbard, tying it up to his horse just as soon as he walked out

of the store with it. He was glad that the woman wasn't giving him much trouble. It was something he could do without during this trip. God alone knew how much of a pain in the ass it would be to get her to Kansas City in one piece, much less the both of them. There were several rivers to ford, and plus crossing Indian territory didn't thrill him in the least either. He hoped that she was as good with a gun as she was with her mouth. He only worried that she might wind up shooting him in the back. But taking the train out of Sante Fe would save them several days of travel, plus a lot less headaches. After several days of travel, they finally reached Santa Fe. The town was bustling with activity, with a mixture of ranchhands, cowpunchers, and cattle barons mingling among the dirt street. Jake slowly led them towards the livery stable, where their horses would be taken care of, and he could find suitable lodging for the night. He knew where she would sleep. Being a bounty hunter, he had the right to ask the local sheriff to keep her in his cell overnight, whereas he could sleep in a nice comfy hotel bed. He helped her off her horse, and the two of them slowly made their way along the boardwalk looking for the local jail. He soon found it, and opened the heavy oaken door. It was much cooler in here than on the street, and he introduced himself as a bounty hunter. He showed the sheriff some papers, and had Dori locked up for the night. He let the sheriff know where he would be, and he walked out the door, his spurs rattling along the boardwalk. He stood there for a minute or two, just taking in the sights of the town. People were bustling to and fro, going from one place to another. The saloon was off to his right, while the hotel was straight ahead and slightly to his left. He decided he'd rent a room first, then head towards the saloon to see if he could pick up any local gossip. Besides, Dori had told him of some lost Confederate treasure that was buried out here somewhere, and that had piqued his interest. The only problem with that was that no one knew exactly where it was, or who had buried it. He figured that once he dumped her off and collected his bounty, he could return by train and go treasure hunting. He didn't have any family anyway, so he decided

the best way he could spend his time was by working. That was how he was brought up, to work hard and play even harder. But playtime came only after everything else was taken care of. He figured two more days and then he could collect his money, then another two or three days on the way back, and he would be ready to go looking. But first things first. Tomorrow he would go to the train station and get their tickets, stable his horse and pay up for a week or so, and get rid of this big mouthed little filly before she drove him nuts.

Simp and Willy were about four hours out of Santa Fe when they saw a dust trail heading right towards them. Being on the stage road, they figured that that's what it was. Sure enough, a stagecoach pulled up on them and slowed down when Simp hailed the driver. Howdy, he said in a friendly tone. See any riders headin' into town on your way out? The driver shook his head. Not since we left town, mister. Okay then, much obliged. The stage continued on its way, and the two men did the same. Soon they could see the outskirts of Santa Fe, but instead of heading directly into town and possibly spooking the stranger, they decided to camp out about a mile from the outskirts. Soon Willy had a small fire going, and they were eating their first hot meal in several days. Simp decided to uncork the last bottle of whiskey, took a slug, and passed it to Willy, who did the same. Early morning found them rising before the sun was up. They packed up their gear and got ready to move out. They wanted to surprise the stranger and Dori if possible, and rescue her without any bloodshed. But their options were limited. They could try to negotiate a deal with the man, but he didn't seem to be the type. Once his mind was focused on something, it was that or nothing, and no one could change his mind. And if Simp got into a fight with the man, he'd do his best to whup him, but he stood a good four inches taller than he did and probably outweighed him by a good fifty pounds. All of these thoughts were going through his mind as they entered town, trotted down the main street,

and pulled up to a hitching post in front of the general merchandise store. They tied their mounts to the pole and walked into the store, to try and get the layout of the town, not to mention buy some more badly needed supplies. They were almost out of food, and wouldn't last long in the open desert if that's what it came to. They found out that the hotel was down the street two blocks, and took their supplies out to their horses. They finished packing up, and crossed the dusty street. They soon came upon a folding billboard that had 'Humble Hotel' painted on it and walked inside to inquire about the stranger. They no more than took ten steps inside when they noticed the big man coming down the stairs. Simp just walked straight up to the man and watched as his eyes widened in surprise when he saw the two dusty travelers. Where is she? asked Simp, getting straight to the point. The man just grunted something, and came down the remaining stairs like a big black bear. He knocked Simp over, and almost took Willy with him, too. The two men got up and faced each other, fists balled up. The big man took the first swing, missed, and Simp counterpunched that caught the man on the jaw. He watched in amazement as the man just wiped off the trickle of blood and smiled at him. Now we do it my way, the bruiser stated, and grabbed Simp in a great bearhug, squeezing the breath out of his lungs. Simp clapped both hands on the man's ears to make him let go, and found out quickly that it didn't work. He took his thumbs and pressed into the man's eyeballs, feeling the grip on him lessen. The man dropped him and covered his eyes, and Simp let loose a roundhouse that knocked the big man on his behind. He then walked up to him and kicked him straight in the mouth, busting his lips wide open and the blood started to spurt all over the floor. One final kick to the ribs, and the big man was down for the count. Simp surprised himself that it was just that easy. Yeah, right. Easy. Now, I'm gonna ask you one more time, he said between breaths. Where is she? The man in black just spat at him. Jail. With that, the two men turned around and left the hotel, leaving several pairs of eyes just staring at them. He hated to mess up their carpet, but he didn't start the

fight, the other man did. He just ended it, that's all. They stepped out on the boardwalk, and he walked up to the nearest man and asked him where the jail was. The man just eyed him up and down and pointed further on down the street, on the other side. They crossed back over, and were soon at the solid oak door with oversize hinges on it. They entered, and approached the man sitting behind the desk, who he assumed to be the sheriff. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Dori sitting on a bunk in her cell, watching them. She got up quickly, and grabbed at the bars, smiling at the two men. Simp smiled back at her, and spoke to the sheriff. I'm here to get this woman out. How much? he asked point-blank. The man just stared at him. Where's the bounty hunter who brought her in? At the hotel bleeding all over their floor. Now, how much? The man didn't know whether to laugh or cuss them out. Who the hell were they, prancing in his office and demanding information? That didn't sit well with him, and he started to bristle at the edges, waiting for more smartmouth talk. Just who the hell do you think you are, God Almighty hisself? he hissed at Simp. You don't traipse into my jail and demand a goddam thing from me, you hear me son? He stared into those multicolored eyes of his and suddenly a light clicked on in his head. Wait a minute, he stated slowly, you look familiar. Simp just stood his ground. I don't think so. I've never seen you before, Sheriff. You're wanted, I believe, and he walked around the corner of his desk to the drawings hanging on the wall. He thumbed through the pictures, and pulled one out. He looked at Simp, back down at the paper, and back up at him again. You Gordon Thomas Simpson? Simp thought quickly. No, my name is Johnson. Bullshit, son. I'm old, but I'm not blind. You're Simpson, sure as hell. With that he drew his gun and pointed it at him. Simp groaned inwardly. Damn, he thought, this woman is becoming more trouble than she's worth. Now he was being arrested on an old warrant. Damn!

He thought fast and furious. Okay, sheriff. I'll go quietly into a cell if you just let the girl go. She didn't do anything to anyone except ruffle some cowpoke's feathers. Now that ain't a crime now, is it? He shushed her argument with a slash of his arm. What's it gonna be? The lawman thought for a minute, and slowly nodded his head. Yeah, sounds like a fair trade to me. She ain't broke the law here that I know of, so you got yourself a deal. He kept the gun pointed at him while he fumbled with the keys to unlock her cell. The door swung open, creaking on rusty hinges, and he motioned with the barrel at Simp to get in. He obeyed, and Dori hugged him as he passed her by. Don't worry about me, sweetheart, he said. It'll be okay. Willy here will take good care of ya. With that said, he laid down on the small cot, and Willy and Dori walked out of the office into the brilliant sunshine. They would come up with something. In the meantime, they walked down to the livery stable to retrieve her horse, and galloped out of town in a cloud of dust to find somewhere to think about their next move.

Chapter 9

Simp laid there staring at the ceiling, wondering how in the hell he was going to get out of this one. They definitely wouldn't grant him bail, because he'd take off, and even he knew it. He'd been charged with robbing the bank in Borderland, a long time ago, and it was his eyes that were his undoing. Someone apparently recognized him, and with that feature of his looks that he couldn't change he really didn't stand a chance of being free forever. There was just no way to hide it, unless he started to wear an eye patch. An idea that started to sound pretty good right about now. Just then the door slammed open, banging against the rock wall with a loud thud. The stranger that he'd beaten up stomped in, and he looked madder than a wounded bull. His face was still bleeding, and once he saw Simp sitting in jail, he growled like a grizzly and turned to face the sheriff. I want to press assault charges on this man, he said, his swollen lips making him sound like he had a

lisp. Simp wanted to laugh. But it would only make him madder. Maybe he should do it anyway. He was the one that started this whole shebang anyways. Stealing his girl like that. Now wait a minute fella, he thought to himself, she's not your girl. Not yet, anyway. That thought made him smile, and he just clasped his fingers together behind the back of his head and layed back down. Hell, there was nothing else to do in here. Just sit and bide his time, and hope Willy and Dori came up with some kind of escape plan. The sheriff just looked at the big man in astonishment. That man there did this to you? he asked, clearly puzzled. Yeah, and you let my bounty go too, you sorry..... he spluttered in rage. Whoa there fella, back off the war paint. I don't know who you think you're talkin' to, but here I do the talkin' and you do the listenin'. You got that, big boy? I don't give a rat's ass how big you are, my gun does the talkin' for me, so if you don't wanna end up wearin' a wood suit I'd shut up and listen to what I have to say! The big man backed off a little, but was still clearly pissed. He was stewing like a fish in a pot, and just as hot, too. Not only did Simp beat him at his own game, but the sheriff had just cost him five thousand dollars. I was hired to track that girl down, sheriff, an' I been followin' her for almost a year now, said Jake, calming down somewhat. I still have five thousand to collect to bring her back. Bring her to where? the sheriff asked him, purposely being nosey. To Kansas City and her husband. Simp decided to add his two cents to the conversation. Ex-husband, you big lout. For his trouble he was given a very dirty look. Jake pointed his finger at him. You just wait, partner, he said angrily. Your day's comin'! The sheriff spoke up. Well, son, she's not broken any laws here in town that I'm aware of, so there's really nothing I can do about it. My hands are tied. With that, Jake turned, grabbed the door, and slammed it hard behind him. They could hear his

stomping on the boardwalk as he left the office. They both started laughing at the comedy of it all. And now he wanted to press assault charges. A big man like that, getting beat up. Simp chuckled at the irony of it, and the sheriff just looked at him with a smile on his face. Looks like you worked him over pretty good, son, he said, reaching down to a draw on his desk and pulling it out. He reached in and retrieved a bottle and two glasses. He blew the dust off the bottle and uncorked it, pouring a sizeable portion in each glass. He then got up and walked over to the cell that Simp was in. He handed him a glass and tilted his head back. Bottoms up! and swallowed the fiery liquid, enjoying the burn all the way to his stomach. Now that there is good ol' Irish whiskey, my friend. I've had that for years, and been waitin' for a special occasion. The way your story sounds, I hereby declare that this is that special occasion! Thanks, sheriff, I'm obliged, said Simp as he drank. He handed the glass back to the lawman, and sat down on his cot. I suppose there's no negotiatin' to get outta here, is there? Son, I pride myself on runnin' a tight ship, and what would folks say of me if I let ever' lawbreaker out just because I liked him? They'd hang me from the nearest oak tree. Simp just groaned. If the sheriff of Borderland ever got ahold of him, he'd swing for sure. Robbing a bank was an offense that many people didn't cotton to, and had decided that it was time to make it rougher on the outlaws that they did catch. Damn. However, the sheriff added, we wait 'til that big fella's outta town, and you sorta get the keys and let yourself out while I'm a'nappin, well, then you hightail it outta town and there's no hard feelings between any of us. He just winked at that. Simp couldn't believe his ears. The man was going to let him 'escape.' Works for me, sheriff, he said, and laid down, closed his eyes, and took a nap.

Willy and Dori stopped at an old abandoned mine shaft about two miles out of town. They checked to make sure they weren't being followed, and she got off her horse.

Thanks for comin' after me, she said gratefully. No problem, senora, said Willy. You make a good addition to our little group. She wasn't quite sure how to take that, so she just smiled and walked towards the shaft. Wonder how long its been since someone's been here, she thought out loud. Careful, senora, don't fall down hole, cautioned Willy. If she fell down the shaft he had no rope in which to pull her out. She turned around and walked back to the horses. What now? she asked him, wondering what might come next. She wasn't sure if the Jake was going to come after her again or not. But deep down she knew that they had to get Simp out of jail. He had risked his life and lost his freedom over her, and the least she could do to repay that would be to get him out of that cell. Her cell, she thought. Willy make fire, we eat, said the guide, getting off his horse and gathering some small chunks of firewood. He soon had a small blaze going, and put a pan on to fry some bacon and beans. He also put on a pot of water to boil for coffee, since he had no liquor in his pack. It was just as well. Whiskey made one careless. They sat there, eating their meal in silence. Only the sigh of the wind through the trees disturbed their thoughts. How were they going to get out of this predicament? Dori felt that it was all her fault, because if it wouldn't have been for her, none of this would be happening now. She got up and angrily stalked around, wondering how they could break him out of jail. She just knew that they had to do something for him.

Back in town, Jake was steaming hot. He was so mad at the sheriff for letting his bounty go that he wanted to swing at every man he came across on the boardwalk. He was so angry that he forgot where the livery stable was, and had to ask someone which way to go. That made him even more mad. Finally he reached it, got his horse and paid the man his fee. He mounted up, and rode out of town in a swirl of dust, intent on recapturing his prize. He figured that there was no way they would stay in town if they knew

that he was still here. The only other place they could go would be somewhere outside the town limits, and he had a pretty good idea of where that might be. He had found out that there was an abandoned copper mine just a couple of miles outside of town that might serve as a refuge for those two. He urged his horse on even faster, and was soon within eyeshot of the mine. He slowed his horse, then stopped. He got off and proceeded on foot lest they hear him coming. One horseshoe on a slab of rock would give him away just as sure as a coyote's howl in the night. He drew his gun, and slowly made his way up the draw towards the mine. It was starting to get dark now, and he figured that this would be a good time for an ambush. She was worth five thousand dollars to him, nothing more, nothing less, and he aimed to collect his bounty, come hell or high water. He peered around the edge of a boulder, and saw nothing but two riderless horses. The sun was completely down now, and it was getting more difficult to see. He slowly edged his way along the rock face, and suddenly heard voices. He scuttled back the way he had come, and soon saw two people coming out of the shack, talking in low voices. One he could tell was definitely the girl; the other one must be the Mexican, for the man he got in the fight with was in jail. He again slowly made his way back up alongside the face of the cliff, and crouched down behind a creosote bush. He could hear a little better here, noticing that they were talking about how to bust that man out of jail. Well, they wouldn't if he had anything to do with it. He finally stood up and walked towards the two. Hands up! he ordered. They both whirled around in shock and surprise, and once they saw who it was, Dori just groaned inwardly. Not you again! she said angrily. Yes, me again. You're worth five thousand to me alive, and I aim to collect, he said, his focus now intently on her. He watched the little Mexican out of the corner of his eye just in case he went for his gun, and reached for the reins of her horse. He motioned with his gun barrel for her to walk down the draw towards his own horse, and he kept an eye on Willy. She reluctantly went, and he soon had her tied up again and in handcuffs, then put her in the saddle.

Chapter 10

Willy just stood there with his hands in the air. There really wasn't anything else he could have done. He would never have been able to outdraw the man, so he stood there like a stone statue. He watched the two of them ride off in a cloud of dust, not knowing what to do or how to do it. So he decided to head back into town to tell Simp. Just then a shot made him jump. He fell flat on his face and listened as the bullet ricocheted off the rocks behind him. He scrambled up to his feet and grabbed his own weapon. Then he put his body between the shooter and some rocks that jutted out of the canyon wall. He figured that Jake must have been shooting at him to keep him off balance, to keep him from watching which direction they were heading. Well, mister, that old trick wouldn't work. Not with Willy, anyway. What the stranger didn't know was that Willy was a first class tracker. Not only that, but a pretty good marksman with a rifle in his own right. He ran over to his horse, grabbed his rifle, and aimed into the swirl of dust he saw from the two horses galloping away. He held his breath and squeezed, aiming at a point just ahead of the lead horse. He was rewarded when the horse toppled, throwing its rider onto the desert sand. He quickly jumped up on his own horse and headed towards where the downed horse was. Soon he reached it, and found that he had indeed hit the big man in the shoulder. There wasn't much blood, so it wasn't a fatal wound. However, without proper care it would quickly become gangrenous and he would lose an arm. Willy got off his horse and took the reins of Dori's in hand. He just looked down at the man in black. I tell you once more. Do not come looking for us. Next time I aim for the head. He got a dirty look for an answer, and a grunt of pain when the man tried to stand. His horse was unharmed, only momentarily stunned over the fall. He kept his rifle barrel pointed on the man while he mounted his horse and rode away, holding his left shoulder. Willy hollered after him to not come back. Then Dori and he pointed their mounts back towards town to where a good hot meal and Simp waited.

Back in town, they headed straight for the sheriff's office to check on Simp. They wanted to keep him up to date on what was happening, and let him know that the man was gone for good. Or so they at least hoped. Next they left the jail and walked over to the only restaurant in town, Ribs'n'Things. They ordered steaks and sat and talked while they waited for their meals to come. Willy gave her a serious look. You still in danger as long as big man in territory. We need to hide you because he come back, I guarantee it. Five thousand dollars is lot of money, and no man in his right mind would pass it up, no matter what. She sighed, and agreed that he was right. But where will we go, Willy? I have no friends or family around here. You wrong, senora. You have friend in Willy. He smiled, and patted her hand. We get Simp, then we get out of town, okay? She just nodded her head and smiled back.

This was far from over. Although he was wounded, he could still walk and talk, and revenge was building in him like a volcano about to blow its top. He needed to get his wound tended to first, though, and that meant heading back into town. Maybe he could put it off for a day or so, but that would be it, then he'd run the risk of infection. Each day that passed made his wound that much worse. It looked like the bullet went clean through, which was nice, so he just wrapped a piece of his shirt around the neat little hole in his arm and decided to head back into town, no matter what the little Mexican had said. He still could shoot with his right hand. He nudged the stallion in the flanks, and together they headed back towards town, taking the roundabout way. It would give him some time to think of a new plan of attack. And they would pay. Pay with their lives. He would make sure of that.

Simp sat in his cell, dozing off when the sheriff walked up to the cell door and unlocked it. He walked over to the sleeping man, and shook him awake. He woke up with a start and rubbed his eyes, wiping the sleep out of them.

Let's go, mister, time to get goin'. Your friends are here. He sat up, swung his legs over the edge, and looked past the lawman. Sure enough, Dori and Willy were there waiting for him. He shook his head and stood up, gathering himself. The sheriff moved aside to let him pass, then grabbed his arm. That stranger will be back. I expect you to be out of town within half an hour. After that you're all mine. Simp just nodded his assent. Okay, sheriff, if you say so. I didn't come lookin' fer trouble, anyway. All I wanted to do was get this woman back. There. He had said it. Now Dori had heard it for herself. She inhaled in surprise, and her eyes widened. She didn't come out here looking for a man, but apparently had found one. He wasn't as clean and polished as her ex-husband with his college degree and commission, but she saw a diamond in the rough that just needed a little polishing. She surprised herself with her thoughts on the matter. She walked up and gave him a hug. Willy smiled his big toothy smile and the sheriff ambled in and hung the keys up. He walked over to a peg hanging on the wall and handed Simp back his gun. Now git goin', he said good naturedly, and I don't wanna see you anytime soon! You won't sheriff, and thanks again, said Simp gratefully. The three amigos left the sheriff's office and headed down the boardwalk towards the livery stable to gather their horses. Willy paid the man, and they mounted up, heading east in a cloud of dust, back towards Benson and then south to Mexico.

Jake was fuming mad when he got to town. He went looking for the town doctor, and it didn't help his mood any to find out he was in the saloon drinking. Oh well, he thought, he couldn't be choosy. He needed to get some antiseptic on his wound and get it bandaged up properly. Then he would go after the three people that he hated most in the world. He grabbed the doctor, and pretty much dragged him back to his office. He didn't care that it was closed, his time was short and so was his patience with this town. Not only did he get beat up but had

gotten shot as well. He pushed the good country doctor through the door, and made himself comfortable on his exam table. He watched while the man cleaned the wound and wrapped it up. Then he gave him some coins to pay for his treatment, and then stomped out the door to his horse. He walked his way over to the sheriff's office to have a little talk with the man he fought with, and as he opened the door, he saw the sheriff leaning back with a drink in his hand. He looked over at the cells, and they were empty. Where's the man you had in here? he demanded. The look on his face was murderous. Gone, my friend. By now probably about 20 miles away. Your bounty huntin' ain't no good around here. He exploded. He went for his six-shooter and pumped five rounds into the ceiling. The man just stared at him, and Jake took a big swig of the bottle on the desk through the haze of gunfire. He left the office, and got back on his horse, intending to find his quarry before they disappeared into the mountains. He'd get the girl back, dead or alive. They had seriously pissed him off now, and his rage boiled over. The hell with the money, he fumed. They had insulted him more than once, and they would pay with their lives. He'd kill all three of them, then head north to the mining towns of Colorado or somewhere to take the heat off. He wasn't afraid to swing a pickaxe if he had to, and maybe he'd have the good fortune to make a strike for himself. The way it was his bounty hunting days were over; now he would be the one being hunted, and with all the little tricks of the trade he knew, he could probably get away with it. If caught he would swing for sure for shooting a lawman. Especially in cold blood the way he did. He rode his horse hard for the first couple of miles, then slowed its pace. He turned around to see if he was being chased, but didn't see any clouds of dust rising from the horizon. Good, he thought, they're still trying decide if they want to organize a posse to chase him down. Well, that would give him some more time, and once in the hills, he would disappear, never to be heard from again.

Four days later, they arrived in Benson. They were tired and dirty, and ready for a bath and some hot meals. Somehow, though, they felt that their adventures were just beginning instead of ending. They stopped their horses in front of the hotel, tied them up, and walked in the door. They walked across some Persian carpets towards the main desk, where a squirrely little man was standing. He eyeballed them, then asked them what they wanted. We want two rooms, said Simp, growling like a momma bear. He was in no mood to put up with any impertinence. What's the matter, baldy? You figure our money's not good enough? Who owns this place? I wanna talk to the owner, not her little flabby bald-ass flunkie! Simp looked at her, and told her to just calm down. They wanted a place to sleep, and it wasn't the jail. Forgive my friend, sir. We'd like two rooms and we're more than happy to pay the going rate. He took out some bills from the saddlebags slung over his shoulder, and flipped through them. How much? he asked. The man told him, and he counted out the money. The man slid across two sets of room keys, and they headed upstairs to their respective rooms to clean up. A hot bath and hot meal would do wonders to ease their minds from the past few days. As long as you-know-who didn't show up again. Willy told Simp he had threatened to shoot him again if he showed up, but somehow he decided that the man was stubborn as a fence post, and wouldn't listen to anyone or anything other than a bullet. An hour after they entered the hotel, they were clean and had a meal in their bellies. They both felt human again. Simp just smiled when he saw Dori emerging from her room. My, he thought, she is a beautiful woman once she cleans up. She noticed him smiling at her and looked down at the floor in embarrassment. Don't look at me that way, she said furtively, her eyes darting around. You're a pretty little thing when you're cleaned up, got all the desert dust off of you, he said unashamedly. He was examining her from top to bottom, and definitely liked what he saw. You just keep your hands to yourself, she said, and walked out the door in a dignified manner. She

wasn't fooling anyone. She kind of fell for him, the big lout, and he knew it. She wondered what would happen if she and he got together..... Suddenly, a gunshot brought both of them out of their reverie. They looked down the street, and there was Jake, standing in the middle of the street with a six-shooter in his right hand. Oh wonderful, she said, and fell to the boardwalk, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Simp looked down at her, and knelt at her side. He moved her hand away from her belly, and it came away wet with her blood. An inhuman rage started to light inside of him, and he looked at the man who had done this. He got up, and Willy picked up the girl and brought her inside. Get the doc! he was hollering. Two men eyed Jake, and slowly made their way to the doctor's office. If looks could kill, Jake would have been struck down by Simp's eyes. He marched out towards the big man, fully intending on killing him this time. He'd gone too far by shooting a woman, and the whole town knew it.

Chapter 11

The doc finally showed up with his little black bag in his hand, but when he looked at the wound, he just shook his balding head. There was nothing that he could do. The bullet had blasted her insides real good, and about the only thing he could do was give her a shot of morphine to make her more comfortable. Willy went to the bar, and got her a shot of whiskey, tears streaming out of his eyes. Here, senora, Willy get you a drink, he said, and slowly poured the liquid into her mouth. Simp just stared helplessly at her, and watched her lifeblood pour off the tables and onto the floor. The sheriff had arrested Jake, but it would do no good. The town was out for a lynching now, and someone had already been sent to get rope for a hanging. Simp was tying the knot as the sheriff entered. Now Simp, ya know you can't do this, he said, truly empathizing with the man. That's what we have laws for. Yeah, a lot of good those laws are doin' for her, huh sheriff? he snarled. He cinched the noose tight,

and gave it to another man to go loop around a tree branch. Where is that scumbag anyways? In a cell, where he's gonna stay, said the sheriff. And I'll shoot the first man myself that tries to break him out! Simp knew the man was right. There was a law, and he had broken that law many times. But he never, ever shot a woman. That was forbidden, and there would be no forgiving someone that did that. It didn't matter if she was the meanest, ugliest female on the face of the desert, one didn't shoot a woman, no matter what. Jake would have his chance to stand trial, then he would hang. There were too many witnesses around who had seen him do it that there would be no possibility of him getting off on it. The streets were full when he unloaded the shot at Dori, and he was amazed that she was the only one who had been hit. Suddenly Willy was at his side. She's askin' for you, senor. His look took on a softer demeanor, and he quickly went over to her side, cradling her left hand in his right. What, sweetie? His eyes started to fill with tears. He was watching her last moments on this earth, and they both knew it. I.....I did love.....you, she got out, and her eyes closed. Her head flopped over to the side, and she was gone. He put her hand up against his forehead, then kissed it gently. He sat there for a minute to compose himself, then walked up to the bar. Gimme a shot, and keep 'em comin'! The bartender poured him one, and watched him guzzle it down. He refilled his glass, and he did the same thing. Then he pulled himself together, and walked over to Dori's body, and slowly picked it up in his arms and carried it out the door. He walked down the boardwalk to the doctor's office, where she would be until a casket could be made up for her. Then he personally would take her body and bury it in the town cemetery. He couldn't believe it. Dori was gone. She took the bullet that was meant for him. He needed to avenge her death somehow. She died a needless death. At least if he would've been killed the world wouldn't have missed him. But she was an innocent, and that was not acceptable, in any way, shape, or form.

He sat there with her body for awhile, just reflecting on the time they had together. He really realized now just how much she had meant to him. And he would miss her. Very much. But first he would make sure justice was served. He would see Jake hang for what he did to her. There was absolutely no reason for a man to shoot a woman. He did it out of pure spite, and for that he would pay. His anger would make him swing with the breeze, and Simp would be there to pull the lever on the trapdoor. Later that night he was sitting on the edge of the bed thinking about what happened. What if he had walked out that door first? He would've caught the bullet, and she would still be alive. It was tearing him up inside that she had to die for a bullet that was meant for him. He sat and cried for a long time, drinking whiskey and staring out the window at the street below. He was torn up inside, and didn't know what to do. For the first time in his life he was confused. He usually had a clear-cut way of doing things, and that was point-blank. But Jake had thrown a wrench into his plans, and he had to act accordingly. He wouldn't see him hang until the judge arrived from Kansas City, which would take another four or five days at least. Then it wouldn't bring Dori back. His heart ached, and he drank some more. There was a soft knock on his door, and he ignored it. Senor, its me Willy, said a voice on the other side. I need to talk to you. Leave me alone Willy, he said, angry that he would interrupt his grieving. Senor, it is important. Fine. He got up, and let the guide into the room What's so goddam important that it can't wait 'til morning? Willy took off his hat and stared at the floor. Senor, before she, senora Dori, pass away she wanted me to give this to you. He held out his hand, and in it was a key. Simp looked at it, then slowly took it into his own hand. What's this key for? he asked, not really expecting the man to know. I don't know, senor. She whispered something about bank, was the man's answer. With that, he put his hat back on, and slowly left the room, leaving Simp alone with his thoughts.

Jake sat in his cell, restless as a polecat. He finally slumped on the uncomfortable cot, and laid down with the thoughts in his head racing around like a dog chasing its tail. He shouldn't of killed the woman; it was a mistake. He meant to kill Simp, but she walked out of the saloon first. Damn unlucky shot there. Now the townsfolk would hang him sure as dust was dry, and there was no appeals or no wa y a judge would see it any other way than plain murder. But he had a plan forming in the back of his head. He figured that once that girl's funeral came around, he'd be able to try and break out of this flea-bitten rat trap while everyone was gone. Surely they might leave one man to guard him, but that would be it. They'd be so cocksure that their jail was secure that he believed that's what they would do. They didn't search him very well, otherwise they would've found the buck knife he hid in his boot. He would use that to start digging some of the mortar from around the blocks, and eventually have enough dug out to kick a hole in the wall and steal a horse. He'd eventually get his revenge on Simp and the Mexican, but he wasn't sure how or where. All he was concerned about now was how he was going to get out of here. The deputy brought him his evening meal, and he sat back down on the cot with the tray. He ate hungrily, for he would need his strength in the next day or so. It wasn't anything special, just soup with some bread and a cup of coffee, but it was good. After he ate, he would dig some more on the mortar, and when the time came to break out, he could do it and do it quick. He finished, and slid his tray on the floor underneath the bars. Soon the deputy came in, and picked it up, and looked at Jake. They'll be buryin' that woman tomorrow, son. Hope you enjoyed the meal, cuz its one of the last you're gonna git! Jake just looked at him and smirked, and flopped down on the cot, waiting for the deputy to leave. Soon the door closed, and he jumped back over to the wall and started digging some more. He would have to hide the pile of mortar that was adding up, so he just scooped it up and tossed it out the window. He didn't figure no one would be there looking, they would be more interested in their own affairs.

Simple folk, how he loved them. Easy to trick, and easy to please. This time tomorrow, he figured he'd be ten miles out of town, and riding fast.

Simp took the key to the bank and asked them about it. He was told that it was to a safe deposit box, but not with them. Thanking them for their trouble, he pocketed the key and walked out, for later in the day they had to lay Dori to rest, and it was something that he didn't look forward to. He went to the saloon for some bracers, and then went up to his room to take a bath and change. He didn't want to disrespect her memory by showing up filthy. He even shaved, which was quite out of the ordinary for him. Soon he was looking like a gentleman, and walked down the stairs. Every eye in the saloon was on him, and he did his best to behave normally. He walked out the doors, down the street to the coffin-maker's shop, and walked in. He had the body in it already, and all that was needed was for some strong backs to place it on the back of his wagon for the long last haul up to the cemetery. They loaded the box, then formed a procession behind it. They walked slowly towards the cemetery to where the new hole was dug, and were soon there. Several wreaths of flowers had been brought up, and the preacher was there ready to do his part. He shook Simp's hand, and that was the signal for the ceremony to begin.

Jake just watched the procession and started drooling with the fact that he would be a free man soon. He dug furiously at the mortar and soon had a foot-wide hole in the wall. He kept kicking and digging, and wiggled his way through the broken mortar. He glanced around, making sure nobody spotted him, and he took off down the back alley way, looking for a horse to steal. He soon found a nice roan, waiting for its owner at the saloon, tied up nice and neat. Well, he was now the new owner of it, and he jumped up, and took off, dust flying. He headed out of town towards the hills, and not a soul in town saw him. After about half an hour, he stopped and turned, looking towards town. He waited to see a dust cloud

that would indicate riders coming out this way, but saw none. He was home free, that is, until they saw the nice little hole in their precious jail cell. Then all hell would break loose. He nudged the roan in the ribs with his heels, and off they went, higher and higher into the mountains.

Chapter 12

Simp and the rest of the townsfolk headed back into town. It was a somber crowd that entered the saloon that day. The talk was less than boisterous, and the drinks were on the house.

'