The Camarillo Kid was well on his way to Desperation Gulch when a second stranger arrived in Silver Spur. This man came in on foot.
He looked to have been through some pretty rough times for someone not much older than twenty years old. The stubble of a beard meant he hadn’t shaved in a week. The layer of grime on his dark clothes hinted at troubles he’d seen on the trail. His dark cowboy hat was pulled low over his watchful eyes, making it hard for anybody to see what he was looking at. Or whom.
He walked slowly down the center of Main Street, his boots kicking up dirt. The lazy drag in his step signalled he might be exhausted, hurt, or in desperate need of water. Maybe all three.
The people of Silver Spur took one look at him and hurried inside, locking their doors. He stalked to the center of town, oblivious to the riders on horseback steering clear of him. He stopped, gazed around thoughtfully, and spotted the Mine Car Hotel. The music drew him in, just as it had the Camarillo Kid.
He pushed open the door, and the place instantly fell quiet. Card games stopped. So did the laughing and singing. The only sound that didn’t stop was the music from the player piano. The dangerous-looking stranger was not a welcome sight in the peaceful town of Silver Spur.
If being stared at bothered the man, he didn’t show it. He strode slowly through the lobby, ignoring the cowboys who followed him with wary eyes. He headed for the front desk. The clerk stood behind it, nervously drumming his fingers on the countertop.
Scarlett watched from the doorway to the back room. The hotel clerk’s eyes grew wide with fear as the stranger moved closer. They locked gazes for several seconds before the clerk spoke.
“Hello, friend,” he said, his voice cracking. “You need food or a room?”
“Neither. I’m looking for a boy. ’Bout fourteen,” the stranger said in a low, husky voice that sounded like he hadn’t had a drink of water in a week.
“Seems like you need to wet your whistle.” The clerk poured a glass of water from a pitcher.
The stranger took the glass. Without a word, he downed every last drop in one huge gulp. The clerk shot a nervous look at Scarlett. She nodded, and the clerk filled the glass again. The stranger downed this second glass as quickly as the first, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
“Much obliged,” he said. The scratchy rasp in his voice was gone. He glanced over his shoulder at the cowboys staring at him.
“I was a might thirsty,” he announced to the room.
The cowboys quickly went back to their business. They didn’t want anything to do with the man in the black hat.
Scarlett walked up to the stranger and looked him square in the eyes. “You say you’re looking for a boy?”
“I am.” The man gave a polite tip of his hat. “Leonard’s his name.”
“A youngster came through about an hour or so back,” Scarlett said. “Called himself the Camarillo Kid.”
“That’s him,” the stranger said with a snicker. “At least I believe that’s what he’s calling himself now.”
“And who might you be?” Scarlett asked boldly.
“The name’s Hitchcock. Most call me Hitch. Do you know where the boy’s at?”
Scarlett gave a slight nod to someone behind Hitch. Hitch saw this and spun around too late. Three cowboys jumped him and pinned his arms to the counter. Hitch didn’t fight back. It was three on one.
Scarlett leaned in. “Ain’t no crime in Silver Spur and we don’t plan on letting any in.”
“That’s awful noble of you, ma’am,” Hitch said calmly.
Scarlett’s eye caught something on Hitch’s shirt underneath his dark jacket. She reached out and flipped the collar aside to reveal…a gleaming silver marshal’s badge.
“You’re a marshal?” she asked with surprise.
“I am.”
“What’s a marshal doing kidnapping innocent folks and holding ’em for ransom?” she demanded.
“Is that what Leonard told you?” Hitch said. “Don’t surprise me none. Let me tell you something about that fine, upstanding young man. He’s a thief. And a liar. And those are the good things I can say about him. I’ve been tracking him for days. I was getting close, but then last night, when I was sleeping on the trail, he stole my gear and my water, and made off with Patches.”
“Patches?” the clerk asked.
“Sweetest ride I ever had. Now she’s gone. He left me out in the desert to roast. I’ve been walking in the hot sun for hours, following his trail.”
“That sweet little boy did that?” Scarlett asked.
“He may be a little boy, but there ain’t nothing sweet about him,” Hitch said. “Fact is, I’ve known him since he was just a squirt. I guess that’s why they sent me out looking for him. I know how he thinks.”
“Do you?” the clerk said with a laugh. “Then how come you didn’t guess he was going to steal your ride and all your gear?”
Hitch shot the man a quick, angry look.
The clerk stopped laughing.
Then Hitch smiled and said, “Yeah, I reckon maybe you’re right about that.”
The clerk let out a relieved breath.
“Why should we believe you?” Scarlett asked. “It’s your word against his.”
“My guess is if you had the pleasure of Leonard’s company, he took something from you, too. He can’t help himself. It’s what he does,” said Hitch.
“He didn’t take anything,” Scarlett said. “If he had, I’d surely know—”
“The Madre!” the clerk exclaimed.
The clerk pointed to the purple pillow behind the front counter that held the large chunk of silver ore. Or that used to hold it. The pillow was empty. The clerk picked it up and shook it angrily.
“The Madre was the biggest chunk of silver ever dug around these parts,” he cried. “One of a kind!”
“And now it’s gone,” Hitch said matter-of-factly. “Don’t surprise me none. Like I said, it’s what he does.”
“Let him go,” Scarlett commanded the three cowboys.
The cowboys let go of Hitch, who tipped his hat to them. “Much obliged, gentlemen. No hard feelings.”
The cowboys gathered around the clerk, who held the purple pillow. They all stared at it, as if hoping the silver ore would magically appear.
It didn’t.
“This is horrible.” Scarlett moaned. “That silver was going to pay for the church we were fixing to build. The people of this town have been doing without one for years. There’s no way we can pay for it without the money we’d get from selling the Madre.”
“Don’t you worry,” Hitch said. “I’ll track Leonard down and get your silver back. You’ll have your church.”
“How?” the clerk demanded. “You don’t even have a ride!”
“Right.” Hitch scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I’ll need to work on that.”
“The Kid said he was headed for Desperation Gulch,” Scarlett said.
“That’s through Shadow Gap,” Hitch added. “There’s a gold mine in there, if I remember correctly.”
“There is,” the clerk said. “Gilroy’s gold mine. He laid claim to it years ago.”
“It’s dangerous going through the gap,” Scarlett said. “You should deputize some of our fine men here and bring ’em along for protection.”
Hitch took a quick look around at the room. A dozen cowboys seemed eager to go after the thief who’d stolen their silver.
“I appreciate that,” Hitch said. “But I work alone. Always have. I will be needing supplies, though.”
He reached into his pocket, pulled out several gold coins, and tossed them onto the counter. “Can somebody fix me up?”
“I can oblige you with that,” came a voice from the front door.
Several cowboys stepped out of the way to reveal a man dressed all in black. A thick mustache covered his entire mouth, and long, greasy hair fell to his shoulders. He held a coil of rope in one hand. In the other hand, he held the lasso end of the rope. He swung it back and forth menacingly.
“Howdy, Rangel,” Hitch said, greeting the man.
“You know this fella?” Scarlett asked with surprise.
“We’ve crossed paths.”
“Howdy to you, Marshal,” the man in black said coldly. “Been looking for you for quite some time. Thought I’d never catch up with you. Then I came across a kid who said I’d find you here.”
“Lucky me,” Hitch said. “What can I do for you?”
“We got us a score to settle,” said Rangel.
“Don’t surprise me none. I put Mr. Rangel behind bars a while back for cattle rustling. He’s quite handy with that lasso,” Hitch told Scarlett.
“Yes, I am.” Rangel swung the noose higher.
“Seems as though Mr. Rangel is holding a grudge,” Hitch said.
“No grudge,” Rangel said. “I just want me some payback, is all.”
“Sounds like a grudge to me,” Hitch said.
The tension in the lobby was thick. Nobody moved.
“I’m a fair man,” Rangel said. “I’ll make you an offer. We’ll have a contest. If you win, you can take my horse and all my gear.”
“And if you win?” Hitch asked.
“Then I get all your gold and, best of all, you’ll be six feet under.”
Hitch thought for a moment and nodded. “Sounds fair. What’s the contest?”
Rangel spun the noose end of the rope out in front of him, creating a circle in the air. He was definitely an expert with the rope.
“I’ll be the rustler,” Rangel said. “You be the steer. Contest is, you try to keep from getting strung up.”
Hitch shook his head “Not sure I like that particular contest—”
Before he could say another word, Rangel flung the lasso at him, forcing the cowboys between them to dive out of the way.
Hitch thought fast and grabbed one of the chairs from under a table. He held it upside down over his head, and the noose circled the chair’s legs, rather than Hitch’s neck.
Rangel yanked back on the rope, tightening the loop around the chair’s legs.
He pulled hard.
Hitch pulled harder. He jerked the chair back, knocking Rangel off balance. Rangel stumbled forward, but he held tight to the rope.
That was all the time Scarlett needed. She quickly grabbed a heavy plate full of beans off a table and threw it at Rangel. The plate spun through the air, spewing beans everywhere. It clipped Rangel in the forehead, sending him reeling backward.
And he let go of the rope.
Hitch looked up and spotted a wooden beam overhead. He threw the chair up, looping the rope that was attached to it over the top of the beam.
Rangel got his wits back quickly and dove for his end of the rope.
Too late. The chair fell back down. Hitch caught it, and now he held both ends of the rope.
Rangel let out an angry cry and charged for Hitch.
He didn’t get far before the hotel clerk tackled him. The two crashed to the floor, and the clerk sat on his chest.
“Ain’t no crime in Silver Spur, and we ain’t having any now,” the clerk said.
With the skill of an expert rodeo cowboy, Hitch quickly trussed up Rangel’s ankles. “Pull!” he shouted to the cowboys.
Two men grabbed the other end of the rope and pulled, hand over hand, lifting Rangel into the air by his ankles. The cattle rustler hung there, swaying back and forth, helpless.
Hitch caught his breath and walked up to him. They were face-to-face, with Rangel upside down.
“Looks like I win the contest, Mr. Rangel,” Hitch said.
“I truly hate you, Hitchcock,” Rangel said through gritted teeth.
“You’re not the only thief who’s told me that,” Hitch said with a smile. “Just means I’m doing my job. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be collecting my winnings.”
A few minutes later, Hitch was mounted on Rangel’s golden palomino named Casey. Rangel’s lasso was coiled up and strapped to the saddle. Scarlett and the hotel clerk stood next to Hitch.
“Please find that lyin’ thief, Marshal,” she said. “I can’t tell you how valuable the Madre is to our town. We need you to bring it back.”
“That’s exactly what I aim to do, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his hat, tipping it to her politely. “Thank you kindly for the information, and for helping me out with Mr. Rangel. Never thought a dinner plate could do so much damage.”
“It’s one less dish I have to wash!” The clerk laughed.
“We’ll untie Rangel and hold on to him until the next marshal comes through town,” Scarlett said. “Good luck.”
Hitch gave a sharp nudge to Casey with the heels of his boots. The powerful horse bolted forward and galloped out of town, carrying Hitch toward Shadow Gap—and a showdown with the thieving Camarillo Kid.