The Rider of Phantom Canyon (11 page)

The Apache did not deny it. He glared at Joshua and did not speak. Joshua sawed a few strands of the rope away.

He said, “Wonder how much cutting this rope can take before it snaps?”

The Apache said, “Wait! Stop! I will tell you. It was our boss, V. R. Clinton.”

“Why?” Joshua said.

The Apache replied, “I do not know. Honest. I do not know. I get paid much money and do what the foreman says. I think they do not want you to fight for the Denver and Rio Grande.”

The Pinkerton said, “The foreman, his name?”

The Apache replied, “You killed him. One top hand speaks like foreman now. His name is Fast Norm Megilligan.”

Strongheart sheathed his knife and walked over to the blacksmith's fire, which still had some glowing embers in it. He pulled out two bullets from his gun and dropped them in the coals, grabbed another rope off the
wall, and returned to the restaurant. He quickly tied the rope off across the doorway at ankle height, stepped over it, and walked through the door.

Smiling at Helena, he said, “I am very sorry. I had to take care of the horse. You now will have my undivided attention.”

She smiled and he listened. The two henchmen whispered and apparently were wondering where their partner was. Then the two bullets went off, one after the other. Both men grabbed their pistols and ran out the door.

Joshua stood and said to Helena, “Stay here and move away from the door!”

Her eyes opened wide, but she listened and moved toward the kitchen as he bolted out the door.

Outside, the two men were sprawled in the dirt and were spinning around, clawing for their pistols. Strongheart drew and fired. He hit the one on the left in the chest with his first bullet, fanned the hammer back with his left hand, and shot the other in the stomach, then immediately followed that with a second bullet that slammed into his chest. The one on the left brought his gun up, but Strongheart fanned another shot into his chest a few inches from the first one. The one on the right looked dead, but the one on the left sure was game. He tried to stand but only got up on one knee, bubbles coming out of one bullet hole, and he slowly raised his pistol again. Joshua fired again, but the gun went
click
, and he did a border shift, tossing the Peacemaker into
his left hand as his right hand went to his knife sheath, pulled the large knife out, and flipped it over, and his hand went forward, the blade slipping through his fingers. The knife spun over a half a spin and buried itself up to the hilt in the killer's chest. This blade went through his heart, killing him instantly. He fell forward on his face. Strongheart quickly thumbed shells into his pistol, cursing himself for not replacing bullets when he tossed the two rounds into the fire. While he checked the two men to ensure the danger was gone, he once again thought back to his expensive lesson with his father growing up.

The tall Pinkerton agent went into the restaurant and saw that Helena was visibly shaken. A crowd was forming outside, and a sheriff's deputy came in the door, gun drawn. Strongheart was holding Helena, who was trembling. She put her head on his shoulder and whimpered a little.

Strongheart said, “I killed those two outside. Their partner, a gun hand who looks to be a Mescalero Apache, is hanging upside down from a rope at the livery stable.”

He looked down at Helena's beautiful face and grinned, saying, “I fibbed. I did not want to alarm you, but I could tell those three were after me. I tricked the Apache into following me, and I lassoed him and hung him upside down. He's still alive.”

Helena said, “I want to see him, please.”

He took her outside and thought about how different this beauty was from Annabelle, his late fiancée, and
Beautiful Woman, his first cousin. Neither of them would have been frightened like Helena was.

Two deputies were with the men Joshua killed, and he and Helena went on to the livery stable. The deputy who had run into the restaurant was there, and he turned and looked grimly at Strongheart.

He was clearly upset and said, “Mr. Strongheart, I have all the respect in the world for you, but I always heerd you was one ta ride the river with and would always fight fair and square. I got ta ask, sir, why would ya slit this Apache's throat when he is upside down and ain't heeled?”

Strongheart moved forward, exclaiming, “What?”

He looked at the Apache, who was now hanging lifeless upside down with a giant pool of fresh blood under him.

He said, “Deputy, I didn't kill him. I hung him here upside down, but I left him a few minutes ago. Please keep people back and check for tracks. Somebody, who has to still be close, came in right behind me, and slit his throat.”

The deputy looked down at the ground, and said to a man standing close, “Run into the café and see if they have a lantern. Hurry!”

A minute later, the man emerged with a large lantern, which was throwing a lot of light. The deputy used it, and sure enough found boot prints of a heavy man with large feet who had approached from behind the stable and run off pretty much in the same direction. He
followed the tracks for a while, but they went into the side street, where he lost them in the other tracks. He was still in town, maybe even in the large group of watchers assembling.

He returned to the body and said, “You were right, Mr. Strongheart. There was a killer, and he is still in town, a big, heavy man with large boots. Sorry for accusing you.”

Strongheart chuckled. “You are doing your job and do not apologize. Just call me Joshua, please, or Strongheart, just not
Mister
. At least you're a man who is not afraid to speak his mind.”

He could see the deputy's chest puff out a little and his chin lift up with pride.

The deputy said, “Let me interview this lady, sir. Then I'll speak with you fully. Boys, keep people away from the bodies!”

Joshua walked into the café, got a cup of coffee, and went back out, sitting down on a stump near the stable and thinking back to his father and his stern upbringing. It was a story he had relived in his mind many times.

*   *   *

Joshua longed for a father, and he was excited as a young man when the town marshal of the blossoming community of Flower Valley, Dan Trooper, got serious about his ma. Marshal Trooper was tall and slender, maybe six-foot-two and 190 pounds, but that was all muscle and sinew from all the years of hard work.

The marshal had high cheekbones, a prominent nose, and honest, intelligent hazel eyes which would bore daggers through anybody. Much older than Joshua's ma, he had a little gray in his mustache, which was always well trimmed and ran full down in a point just past the corner of each thin lip. Like his hair, it was primarily dark brown.

He was not given to talking, just doing. Dan was a very harsh taskmaster to Joshua when he was growing up, but he was all man, and he was bound and determined to make his stepson a man. He said the country was too unforgiving for him to go easy on the boy.

The man was great with grappling and fistfighting much larger men, spending many hours tossing around a large section of heavy log with thick branches simulating arms and legs. He made Joshua train and build his muscles with it, too.

Dan was also an incredible shot with rifle or pistol. He started Joshua when he was young and first taught him how to shoot a long gun. He had learned to shoot with an 1860 Henry .44 repeater, and his stepdad gave it to him when he was twelve years old.

It caused Joshua to chuckle because he realized he was rubbing his fanny while he looked across at Helena being interviewed. He thought about the lesson his father had taught him about keeping track of his ammunition, and he could not believe he had not reloaded after tossing the two bullets into the blacksmith's fire.

It was another hour before Strongheart and Helena
were able to leave. He walked her down Main Street and could tell she was still unnerved by the situation. They arrived at her hotel, and she turned at the doorway outside.

Looking up into his dark eyes, she said, “Mr. Strongheart, Joshua, I can tell you are a true gentleman, part Indian or not. I am still shaking from what happened.”

Inside, Joshua shivered when she said “part Indian or not,” and it bothered him. He decided it was too trivial to concern himself about. His entire life, he had grown up hearing “half-breed” derisively, “blanket nigger,” “red nigger,” “Injun,” “redskin,” “mongrel,” and “cur,” and many of his white friends called him “Chief.” Strongheart chalked it all up to ignorance.

“I know this is very, very forward, Joshua,” she said. “We just met, but I really do not want to be alone tonight. Would you please escort me to my room and stay with me tonight and just hold me?”

Strongheart got a lump in his throat. This was not only one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, but one of, if not the most, sensuous woman he had ever laid his eyes on.

Always the gentleman, the tall half-breed simply said, “Of course.”

They went upstairs to her room, which was the top suite in the hotel. Inside the room, she immediately turned and moved into his arms. They came together in a long, lingering kiss.

Stepping back, she whispered, “Hold me, please?”

Strongheart wrapped his massive, muscular arms around her, and she laid her head on his chest, her breathing shallow. Something about this made him uncomfortable. Maybe he still felt a loyalty to his late fiancée, but he did not think so. He would always love Belle and always mourn her, but he had emotionally processed her death. He was romantically involved with Brenna Alexander. He even had fantasies about his ravishing Sioux cousin Beautiful Woman, who was so aptly named. There was just something about this, maybe because they had just met or because she was being the aggressor. Something inside just felt awkward.

She asked him to have a seat in the sitting room while she slipped into something more comfortable. She emerged minutes later in a pink silk gown covering a matching sheer outfit. Joshua knew this woman had money.

She sat down and said, “Joshua, would you like a nightcap or coffee?”

He said, “What are you having?”

She said, “I am going to order a small glass of brandy.”

He said, “I will have an iced tea if they have it.”

She smiled and pulled a long cord in the ceiling. A bell rang downstairs, and in minutes a young bellman knocked on her door.

She said, “Can you bring me a small brandy and a glass of tea, iced tea, from the saloon downstairs, please?”

He tipped his cap and took off running.

The pair made small talk until the bellboy returned with the drinks. She tipped him handsomely, and he left, very excited.

Strongheart said, “Thank you, Helena. I do not drink liquor, but I discovered iced tea, a brand-new drink, several years ago and like it. Do you want to try a sip?”

He held his glass out to her. She smiled softly, putting her hand up.

Helena said, “Thank you, no. I have had iced tea and do enjoy it occasionally.”

Because Strongheart had that uncomfortable feeling, and simply because he was a warrior and an investigator, he noticed everything and made mental notes constantly. She sipped her brandy and held the glass out for a toast, and they touched glasses and he sipped his tea.

She said, “Can you do me a favor and get that suitcase for me and set it on the bed? It is very heavy.”

“Certainly,” he said, feeling tipsy when he stood up.

He picked up the suitcase by the dresser and set it on the bed, noticing it really was not that heavy. When he turned, Helena was standing in front of her chair, her gown and robe on the floor. She was totally nude, and her naked body was even more perfect than he had imagined. It was flawless, in fact. He got very dizzy and had to grab the bedpost to steady himself.

She said, “I must confess, I didn't really want you to just hold me tonight. I wanted you to love me.”

He started getting dizzier and suddenly realized that she had put something in his drink. The look on her face
turned from seductive to evil, and his mind raced and whirled. He staggered to the window and remembered there was an awning over the first-floor windows below, and he shook his head to clear the cobwebs. He was confused, but his survival instincts as a warrior took over. Joshua saw her reaching for something in her purse and thought he saw the handle of a Bulldog pistol, and he staggered across the room and crashed headfirst through the window. He fell three stories and was able to make himself twist so his body hit the awning with his back muscles. He heard her startled scream behind and then above him.

He immediately rolled off the awning, hitting the ground below with a thump, bruising his hip and upper arm. Strongheart knew he was in danger, and his eyes slowly scanned the scene. He moved along the building, leaning against it for support, and went around the corner to the back side, where she could not see his movements. Spotting a wooden building with a raised wooden sidewalk, he made his way across the street and dived headfirst under the wooden walkway. Strongheart crawled as fast as he could under the building, hearing rodents scatter left and right. In total darkness, he curled into a fetal position and passed out amid the sounds of men running around yelling to each other, looking for him.

Strongheart opened his eyes, and his head swirled. He was in darkness and heard something moving. He wondered if he was in a teepee in his father's family circle. His head hurt and his eyes closed.

Beautiful Woman, his cousin, came into the teepee and told him, “Do not worry. I will watch over you, Wanji Wambli.” She removed her antelope-skin dress and it fell around her ankles. Her beauty was breathtaking, and he opened his arms. She fell into them, and their lips came together. She reached down and grabbed his wrist, pulling on it, and he came wide awake with a start.

“Don't shoot!” Scottie's voice quietly but emphatically said in the darkness.