Jon plopped his foot up on the window sill as he leaned back in the chair. “How long do you have to--”
“Alright! Alright! I’m comin’! Just calm down!” Auggie shouted as he lifted the steaming metal pot off the stove and hurried over.
“Howdy Boys! How are you today?” Auggie poured the hot coffee into their waiting cups.
“Just fine Auggie, how ’bout yourself?” Ed replied, his fingers wrapped around the warm cup.
“Couldn’t be better.”
“Is that you Sheriff?” A shrill voice came out from the kitchen area.
“Sure is, and how’s Lucy today?” Jon grinned and winked at the Irishman’s chunky wife as she stuck her head out of the kitchen door.
“Just wonderful, Sheriff, just wonderful!” Lucy giggled. She batted her eyes at him and ducked back in the kitchen.
“Alright, alright, that’s enough of that.” Auggie laughed nervously. “What’ll it be boys?”
“Eggs over, ham, and biscuits, Aug,” Jon said.
“Couple of slapjacks and sausage for me Auggie,” Ed said.
The friendly restaurant owner scribbled down their orders. “Comin’ right up!” Auggie smiled as he ripped the order page off and hurried for the kitchen.
Ed looked over at Jon. “When’s Judge Oliver comin’ in?”
“Supposed to be hear tomorrow, but it isn’t Judge Oliver. He took ill awhile back.”
“You know who’s comin’?” Ed asked.
“Yea, got a wire yesterday. Judge Walker’s his name. Don’t know him.”
“When’s the hearing?”
“Thursday.” Jon’s eyes narrowed a little; he looked over at Ed. “After breakfast, let’s take a ride out through Dead Man’s Canyon.”
“Dead Man’s Canyon?”
“Yea, I got a hunch about something,” Jon replied.
“Well ain’t that just dandy!” Ed bellowed. “You got a little hunch about somethin’ so I gotta risk my hide ridin’ through the scariest canyon this side of the Colorado River! Is that what you’re tellin me?”
“Aw, don’t worry Ed. You don’t have to go!”
“Why not?” the incredulous deputy replied.
“I’ll just grab one of the girls over at the Barbee, they’re not afraid of a little canyon.” Jon smiled at his old friend.
“Why you no account sodbuster!” Ed shouted as he reached down for his six gun. He put the steel barrel next to his temple. “A coward like me don’t deserve to live!” Ed joked. “Boom!” he shouted. His head fell on the table.
Jon laughed hysterically at his old friend’s antics.
The men were interrupted as Auggie hurried over with their breakfasts; the steam rose off the eggs and flapjacks. “Breakfast is served fellas,” the businesslike Auggie announced. “And hurry up and eat before it gets cold,” he ordered.
“If you say so, Aug,” Ed laughed.
“All this fun reminds me of the old days, back in the camps,” Jon said sincerely. He lifted his hand and pointed his cup toward Ed. “You’re like a brother to me.”
Tears welled up in Ed’s eyes and he raised his cup, “I don’t...ah...know...!”
“Pull yourself together, Ed!” Jon’ grunted. He cupped his hand and slapped Ed gently on the side of the head. “We got us a canyon to ride through.”
Ed smiled warmly at his old friend.
Jon took a sip of coffee, as the two lawmen hurriedly finished breakfast and headed for the cash register.
Auggie punched awkwardly at the keys. He pulled down on the iron handle, the bell rang and the door popped open. “Two bucks,” he said.
Ed dropped a couple of silver dollars into Auggie’s waiting hand.
“Thank you, Ed,”
“My treat tomorrow,” Jon offered as the two men hurried out and mounted up for their trip to the canyon.
“Let’s ride!” Jon shouted. The dust flew as the riders galloped down Pecos Street toward their precarious destination.
* * *
The curtain moved back on the office window at Faraday’s saloon. Butch Canady watched the two lawmen hightail it out of town. Alex Faraday was doing some paper work nearby in his small, cramped office.
Canady looked over at Faraday. “Stoudenmire and his deputy just rode by,” he said. “They’re goin’ some place in one big hurry.”
“Hmmm.” Faraday dropped his pen and leaned back in his chair. “It’s hard telling what those two are up to. Tail them, Butch, and find out what they’re going,” Faraday ordered. “And for God’s sake man, don’t let them see you under any circumstances.”
“Don’t worry, Alex, I know what I’m doin’,” Butch said defensively. He quickly moved around the Brit and stepped out the side door to the alley. His six guns bounced as he ran to his waiting horse. With one motion, he planted both his hands on the horse’s rump and jumped aboard. He landed squarely in the saddle and rode out of town. The race to catch up with the sheriff was on.
Canady leaned to the side of the galloping Stallion; his eyes went to the ground. The canyon, he thought as he looked at the tracks, They’re taking the trail to the canyon.
* * *
Up ahead, the cool morning breeze felt good on Jon’s face as he and Ed rode on. The beautiful desert lilies that lined each side of the narrow trail were in full bloom. After about an hour the canyon was in sight.
“Pretty big hole!” Ed exclaimed as he looked into the deep canyon.
“Yea, it sure is,” Jon replied as he pulled up next to Ed.
The ancient canyon, formed over thousands of years by a tributary of the Gila River, was a sight to behold. The walls on each side were exceptionally steep. Over time, the frost, wind, and rain had molded the sedimentary rock in the center of the canyon into several large formations. These formations had taken on rather odd shapes; some of them looked a lot like large daggers or pitch forks. They cast long shadows on the canyon walls, making for an eerie sight to the occasional traveler who was brave enough to try and negotiate its narrow pathways. The dreamlike nature of these formations helped explain why some of the local Indians thought the canyon was haunted and filled with evil spirits.
Jon and Ed rode carefully down the steep trail that led into the canyon. Babe’s front hoofs edged along the narrow trail as they moved slowly along the edge of the canyon. Ed’s nervous Buckskin whinnied and hesitated, frightened by the steep drop. Suddenly Babe whinnied, her big hoofs pushed violently backwards.
“Easy girl, easy,” Jon said, trying to reassure his frightened steed. The edge of the trail had given way; several rocks went plummeting toward the bottom. Ed and Jon’s necks craned, their eyes wide as they watched the falling rocks bounce along the steep rock wall. It seemed like forever before the rocks hit bedrock at the bottom of the canyon.
“Sure wish I’d a notified next of kin,” Ed cracked.
“You mean, you didn’t?” Jon laughed. He rubbed Babe’s neck, calming the powerful charger. After a breathtaking few minutes of navigating along the treacherous ledge, the trail finally widened. They rode on for a few hundred yards, and then Jon pulled up and dismounted. Ed did the same.
“Let’s walk them awhile,” Jon said. As he looked ahead, his eyes focused on a cut out in the rocks ahead. A small desert ironwood stuck out from between some rocks next to him. He wrapped the leather straps around the protruding limb. “Leave your horse here,” Jon said as he looked down at the dusty trail.
Ed tied up and followed.
The loose sedimentation crunched under Jon’s feet as he walked along the canyon trail, eyes down.
“Look here,” he said.
Ed moved in close.
“There’s no hoof prints on the trail; rains washed ’em away.”
“Maybe there weren’t any tracks,” Ed said. “Could be we’re the only ones that have been up here lately.”
Jon took a couple of steps toward a cut out area and kneeled down. “Look over here, Ed.”
Ed stepped over.
“This area’s covered, rain doesn’t hit back here. Look here at all the hoof prints.”
Ed bent over, his eyes examined the prints. “Yea,, and they’re plenty fresh, just a few days old. We got boot prints, too. You’re the tracker Jon. How many horses and men?”
Jon studied the area for a minute. “Looks like three horses and three men. Three men came in, but only two went out.”
“What?” Ed sounded puzzled.
“Over here,” Jon said as he moved to his left.
Ed stepped over and leaned down next to his partner.
“There’s three horses comin’ in. One’s a pack, see the smaller prints?”
“Yea I see ’em,” Ed replied.
“The small prints are deeper coming in then going out, see that?”
“I guess they are,” Ed replied. “Go on!”
“That means the pack was heavier coming in than going out. Something went off of him,” Jon replied.
“Hmmm.” Ed rubbed his chin.
“There’s two different sets of boot prints, but look here.” Jon scooted over near the edge of canyon wall. “There’s a line grooved out in the dust, see that?”
Ed moved over and looked down. “Yea.”
“Looks like the two sets of boots drug someone over here to the edge of the canyon wall,” Jon continued.
Ed nodded.
“The groove’s smooth and wide, not narrow and deep. The person they drug was wearing moccasins, not boots.”
“Little Bear?” asked Ed.
“Think so. The groove goes right off the edge. Faraday’s henchmen killed Little Bear and then they dumped his body in the canyon thinking nobody would ever find him.”
“Let’s go get those no accounts!” Ed barked.
“Hold on Partner, we still can’t prove it was them. We need more evidence,” Jon said. He stood up and walked over to his horse. He reached inside his saddlebag and pulled out a pair of field glasses. He stepped back over to the canyon’s edge and scanned the steep wall below for any sign of Little Bear.
“Ummm.... I think I got something, take a look,” Jon said as he tossed the glasses to Ed. “See that formation that looks like a pitch fork? Just to the right of that.”
Ed’s eyes scanned the area, suddenly he looked away. “My God!” he said. “Is that him?”
Half way down the canyon wall, a body was impaled on a sharp, dagger-like formation. Unfortunately for Faraday and his gang, the body never made it to the bottom.
“It’s Little Bear alright, brown leather head band and three white Eagle feathers,” Jon said.
“It’s gruesome,” Ed said somberly. “Little Bear was a good man.”
“The best,” Big Jon shook his head. “We’ll never get him out of there.”
“Maybe we can,” Ed said. “The Piutes get in and out of this canyon all the time; it’s sacred to them. I’ll ask Chief Yellow Dog to try and get the body. He liked Little Bear; I think he’ll do it.”
“Sounds good, Ed, but we still got a problem,” Jon said quietly.
“What’s that?”
“I still can’t prove Faraday’s boys did it.” He frowned.
“We need to squeeze a confession outa one of them,” Ed said, as he handed the field glasses to Jon, untied and mounted up.
“We’ll let Faraday’s boys know what we got. One of them may think its enough, get nervous and start singing,” Jon said as he put his foot in the stirrup iron and mounted up. “Okay girl, it’ll be over fore we know it!” He gently patted Babe’s neck. He and Ed inched along the treacherous trail on the canyon’s edge.
* * *
Butch Canady sat sunning himself on a big rock about two hundred yards from the canyon entrance. He reached inside his black vest and pulled out a strip of jerky. He clamped onto the jerky, ripped a piece off and began to chew. Hearing voices, he sat up, looking down to the mouth of the canyon. Jon and Ed were just coming out. Canady slid off the warm rock and fell quietly behind some bushes.
“Dry run,” he whispered, confident that Little Bear’s body had not been found. He cackled quietly as he sat and watched the two lawmen ride out of sight.
* * *
The sheriff and deputy galloped into town, hooves pounding. Jon looked at Ed. “Stables,” he shouted.
Ed nodded. They thundered past the jail to the livery stable, and reined to a stop.
“Howdy Camp,” Jon said as he got off Babe.
Sweat dripped off Camp’s face as he walked out the big door, hammer in hand. “Howdy Jon, looks like you worked ’em a little,” he said as he rubbed the foam off Babe’s neck.
“Yea, we’ve been out to the canyon.” Jon scowled as he looked around the stable. “Anybody here?” he asked.
“Nope, I’m alone,” Camp replied as he moved closer to Jon and Ed. “What’s up?”
“Found Little Bear.”
“In the canyon?” Camp asked.
“Yep, impaled about half way down the canyon wall,” Jon replied.
“Faraday’s boys?” Camp asked.
“Think so; can’t prove it yet. Keep this under your hat.”
“No problem, Jon,” the young stable hand replied. “By the way, I was down at Faraday’s last evening.”
“Uh....huh,” Jon said. He yanked the billet straps loose and pulled the saddle off.
“Canady was there, drunker’n skunk. He was tellin’ everyone that’d listen that your days are numbered,” Camp’s eyes widened as he looked over at Jon.
“That so,” Jon replied.
“Yep.”
“I’ll take care of Butch Canady soon enough. Right now I got me a murder to solve,” Jon replied calmly. “Cards at noon?”
“I’ll be there,” an excited Camp exclaimed.
“Can’t play long,” Jon said. “We’ll take a few deals.”
Ed grunted as he lifted the saddle off Ed’s horse. His fingers gripped tightly to the saddle as he carried it over and dropped it next to Jon’s. “Hurry it up Camp,” Ed prodded the youngster. “I can’t wait to get in the sheriff’s pockets.”
“Soon as I groom these two crowbaits, I’ll be there.” Camp grinned as he gathered up the reins and led the warm steeds inside.
“Crowbaits, you say?”
Camp ducked as a tin can flew by his head. Jon and Ed roared. Jon pulled out a fresh cigar; he drug a match along the leg of his levis, it exploded into flame. He cupped the flame and moved it up to the waiting cigar. Jon took several hard drags, tipped his head back and blew smoke into the air. “Let’s go buddy,” he said to Ed. The two men walked slowly toward the Barbee.
The swinging doors flew open as they entered the raucous saloon. The faro and keno tables were humming; most every poker table was full. It was noon in the desert - gambling time.
Several heads turned, voices could be heard coming from around the bar.
“Howdy Sheriff!” “Howdy Ed!” the men shouted at he and his deputy. They moseyed on over to the end of the bar. Sam put a couple of shots in front of them.
“Good to see you fellas,” Sam said. “Got ribs and taters taday.”
“Sounds good.” Jon looked at Ed.
“Make it two,” the deputy replied.
Smoke rose as Jon poked his cigar out in the metal ash tray and downed his shot. “What’s new round here Sam?”
“Nothin’ much. Bill Webster said he saw you ridin’ by his store this morning.”
“Yea, Ed and I took a little ride out to the canyon.” Jon scanned the room looking for potential assassins. With his reputation, he couldn’t be too careful.
“Bill said Canady rode out a short time later.”
“Hmmm... is that right?” Jon was puzzled. “Probably just coincidence.”
“Could be, but Bill said he came back ’bout the same time.” Sam looked intently at Jon.
“That probably isn’t a coincidence.” Jon scowled. “Nice to know, but I can’t book a man for leavin’ town and coming back.”
“Guess not,” the amicable bartender replied. “Just seems funny to me.
The cook stepped out of the kitchen, the smell was delicious as the hot food hit the bar in front of the men. “Couple of beers,” Jon shouted as they picked up the hot plates and headed over to their corner table.
* * *
Down at Faraday’s, Alex fidgeted nervously with his black silk tie. He, Cook and Canady were seated at his large black oak table on the mezzanine overlooking the gambling tables, a favorite perch for Faraday. It was just above the casino and gave a full view of the goings on in his popular saloon.
“Judge will be here tomorrow,” Faraday said. “Web should be out by evening.”
“You sound awfully confident, Faraday,” Canady snapped.
“Yes, Butch, I am. The judge and I have a little history.” The smoke rose, his cheeks pruned, as he took a drag off his pipe.
“Oh yea, what’s that all about?” Canady pressed.
“If he wanted you to know, he’d tell you!” Clive Cook said as he glared at Canady.
Canady’s eyes shot back at Cook, his hand went to his gun.
“Calm down, boys! It’s okay, it’s okay.” The angry stares slowly subsided. Both men looked back at Faraday; he continued.
“Tom Baldwin tells me the judge’s name is Tom Walker. I knew Walker back in Colorado, long before he became a judge. I staked him in a land deal up in Cripple Creek; the deal went bust. So far, he’s only paid me nickels on the dollar. He owes me big time!”
“Don’t mean he’ll lie for ya.” Canady sneered as he twisted his handlebar mustache.
“My dear man, I am not asking for a lie. I’m just asking that he see things from our point of view,” Faraday said smugly. “And I’m sure when I remind him of the ten thousand dollars he owes me, he’ll do just that.”
“Hope so, Commissioner,” Canady said sarcastically.
“I’m sure he will,” Faraday replied. “Meanwhile we’ve got a much bigger problem.”
“Sheriff Stoudenmire?” Cook asked
“Yes Clive, who else? Alex sneered at the embarrassed Cook. “With the special election less than a week away, our fearless sheriff is doing everything he can to pin those murders on us. He has to be stopped!”
“What do you have in mind?” Cook asked as he nervously fiddled with a stack of poker chips.
“I don’t know yet,” Alex said quietly. Ashes flew as he emptied his pipe bowl in the metal ashtray. “I don’t know, but that man has to be stopped - the sooner the better!” He pounded the warm empty bowl in the palm of his hand and repeated, “He must be stopped!”