The kid looked scared.
He charged into the town of Silver Spur, holding tight to the worn leather saddle for fear he might be slung from his powerful ride. A cloud of brown dust kicked up everywhere. It clung to his white shirt and white cowboy hat as he flew along Main Street, looking for help.
Silver Spur was a sleepy little Western town with wooden sidewalks and dirt streets. There was a blacksmith shop, a general store, an undertaker’s parlor, a feed and grain store, and, halfway to the far end, the Mine Car Hotel. The hotel was the most inviting building on Main Street. It gleamed with a fresh coat of dazzling blue paint and was trimmed by white windows and balconies. It stood out like a special birthday gift next to the drab wooden buildings on either side of it.
Happy sounds of music and laughter from within drew the kid to it like a thirsty traveler headed for a bubbling spring of fresh water. He brought his ride to a quick stop in front. Jumping out of the saddle, he sprinted toward the sounds of life.
He pushed open the front door and looked around. Several wooden tables scattered throughout the lobby were filled with cowboys playing cards, gobbling down beans and crusty bread, and singing. A layer of brown dust covered each and every one of the men, as if they’d just come in from a cattle drive. A frazzled waiter rushed from table to table, keeping the hungry cowboys’ plates filled. A player piano pounded out a rollicking tune.
A splendid time was being had by all.
Except for the kid. He wasn’t happy at all.
He ran to the front desk, scanning about for the hotel clerk. His gaze traveled over an elaborate array of items decorating the shelves behind the counter. He saw sepia-toned photos of miners, stuffed and mounted trophy heads of various-sized elk, and brass bowls filled with beef jerky and hard-boiled eggs. In the dead center, an impressive baseball-size chunk of silver ore rested on a purple pillow.
The kid’s eyes grew wide when he spotted the prize.
“Lookin’ for a room, young fella?” The hotel clerk strolled out from a back room behind the counter. He was nearly bald and his handlebar mustache drooped down either side of his mouth, then curled up like a double smile.
“Don’t need no room,” the kid said, breathless. “I need the sheriff.”
“Sheriff?” the clerk said with a chuckle. “Ain’t no sheriff in Silver Spur. Ain’t no crime in Silver Spur.”
“What happens when there is a crime?” the kid asked.
“A marshal comes through every so often,” he said with a shrug. “Mostly to say howdy and to grab a hot meal. Like I said, ain’t no crime in Silver Spur.”
“Until now,” the kid said. “I need help.”
The clerk frowned. He looked the kid up and down, trying to decide if he should be taken seriously.
“You stay right there, young fella.” He turned and leaned into the doorway he’d entered through, and called, “You might want to take a look at this.”
A moment later, a woman wearing a blue-and-white-checkered dress and a well-worn apron stepped out of the back room and dried her hands on a towel. She had the focused look of someone who had a lot of chores to do and didn’t appreciate being bothered. The clerk gestured to the kid and whispered something to the woman. She glanced at the young visitor, who was now sitting up on the counter with his legs dangling down. She raised her eyebrows.
“We got chairs for sitting,” she said with a no-nonsense attitude that proved she was the boss of the Mine Car Hotel.
The kid jumped off quickly. “Sorry, ma’am.”
“My clerk says you came charging in here all fired up about some crime being committed. That right?”
“Sure is.”
“What’s your name?”
“They call me the Camarillo Kid.”
“Oh, do they?” the woman said with a grin. “A handle like that usually comes with a reputation. What’s yours?”
“Ain’t got no reputation, ma’am. Just a heap of trouble.”
“You can call me Scarlett,” she said, warming up to him. “Tell me what happened.”
“It’s my folks,” he blurted out. “We were passing through south of here and got jumped by a desperado. He kidnapped Ma and Pa and told me to bring him a hundred dollars or there’s no telling what he might do to them.”
Scarlett glanced at the hotel clerk with concern.
He shrugged. He didn’t know what to make of the story.
“Did you get the name of this desperado?” she asked the Kid.
“I did! He said his name was Hitch.”
Scarlett frowned. “Never heard of him. Where are you supposed to meet this Hitch to bring him the money?”
“A place called Desperation Gulch. You heard of it?”
“Of course. It’s on the far side of Shadow Gap. About a few hours’ ride from here.”
“Is that the same Shadow Gap that’s got a gold mine in it?” the Kid asked.
“It is, and it’s a dangerous trip. It’s no place for a pup like you,” said Scarlett.
“Don’t matter none. I gotta go and save Ma and Pa,” insisted the Kid.
“Where you goin’ to get a hundred dollars?”
The Kid leaned close to Scarlett and whispered, “Already got it. We had the money all along. We would’ve given it to him if we knew what he was fixin’ to do, but once he rode off with my folks, it was too late.”
“Well now, Camarillo Kid, I’m thinking you should wait for the marshal to get here.”
“When’s that?”
“Couple of days.”
“Couple of days!” the Kid cried. “My folks could be buzzard food by then!”
The lobby fell quiet. The cowboys stopped what they were doing to stare at the Kid.
“You all mind your own business,” Scarlett called out, scolding the room.
The cowboys went back to their food and card games.
“Can you direct me to Shadow Gap?” the Kid asked.
Scarlett hesitated. The Kid was young, but he wasn’t a little boy. He looked to be about fourteen…old enough to know what he was doing.
“Keep riding north out of town,” she said. “When the road forks, head West toward the mountains. You’ll hit Shadow Gap soon enough. But like I said, it’s dangerous. You really should wait for the marshal.”
“Can’t do that.” The Kid raced across the lobby, dodging tables, headed for the front door. Once outside, he made straight for his ride.
Scarlett watched through the grimy front window as the Kid jumped into the saddle. He sped off, charging after a kidnapping desperado named Hitch.
“Good luck, Camarillo Kid,” Scarlett called out. “I’m afraid you’re going to need it.”