THE SIX RIDERS of the Bar 10 were now close to Sutter’s Corner and getting nearer with each long stride of their mounts long legs. Each of them knew that they would have already reached the sprawling settlement if not for the blinding sandstorm which hampered their progress.
Johnny had moved alongside the rancher ahead of his four fellow cowboys. Their horses were biting at their bits as the fearless horsemen continued to urge them on to a pace which would guarantee that they reached town long before sundown.
There were still a few miles to go.
Plenty of time to think.
Johnny tried to rid his mind of the memories which had haunted him for nearly ten years. It was impossible. For the more he tried to dismiss the memories, the more they haunted him.
Gene Adams had given him a new name and a new life but now as he rode beside the legendary rancher Johnny recalled all of the events which he had managed to suppress for over a third of his life.
Johnny had been a skilled marksman since childhood. He had managed to earn his living by hunting and had made enough money to buy himself a pinto pony and a fancy shooting rig before he had reached his fifteenth birthday. For the next few years he had roamed from one place to another doing odd jobs. Before long the life of the aimless drifter had become engrained into him.
Yet when he had ridden into the small town of Rio Maria set close to the Mexican border he had never fired a shot in anger.
There had been no notches on his wooden gun grips. He had only killed animals for their pelts or to put food in his young belly.
Unlike many other drifters Johnny had always refused to use his intrepid gun skills on his fellow men.
Rio Maria had been a quiet gentle town of no more than two hundred souls when the young Johnny Mason had ridden into its unmarked boundaries.
For some unknown reason Johnny had taken a liking to the town and the people who lived there. He had been a drifter who had survived alone since losing his entire family to the fever. He had set out on a path which had taken him hundreds of miles in search of something he did not even know he was looking for.
He found that certain something in Rio Maria.
Her name was June Lopez. It was not until he had set eyes upon the raven haired beauty that suddenly the desire to continue roaming evaporated from every fiber of his being.
June was the youngest daughter of the town’s sheriff. Before setting eyes upon her, Johnny had thought he would continue to travel aimlessly until he grew too old to do so.
June Lopez had other ideas when she allowed the young Johnny to chase her until she eventually caught him. Love was something neither of the young pair had ever had any experience in but when they had set eyes upon one another, they knew what it truly meant.
They had been like two halves of the same coin.
Without even realizing what was happening to him Johnny stopped his roving and got a job in the town so that he could stay close to her. She had roped his heart and hauled him in without even knowing that she had done so. They were innocents who lived for one another.
For months the pair grew closer and closer until they were virtually inseparable. It was obvious to everyone that the youngsters were destined to marry.
Johnny had never imagined in his wildest dreams that he of all people would willingly settle down anywhere. It was something other folks did. The lucky ones who somehow managed to find their one true love.
Weeks became months and finally Johnny realized that he had been in Rio Maria for over a year. His magnificent pair of matched Colt .45’s had gathered dust in their holsters as his hand-tooled gunbelt hung from a peg on the wall of the sheriff’s office.
June’s father had taken a shine to the young drifter and when he saw that his last unmarried daughter was besotted with Johnny, Jose Lopez had taken him on as a deputy.
As with a lot of the border towns Rio Maria had once been in Mexico and only existed because it had been blessed with a ceaseless supply of golden ore and dust. Men still mined the precious metal and fashioned beautiful artefacts from it. Gold had become something none of the inhabitants of the remote town valued as others in the outside world tended to do.
The people of Rio Maria had so much gold at their disposal they regarded it as being just another of the Lords gifts and no more valuable than any other abundant commodity. To them it was no different to the sweet grass their livestock grew fat upon or the crystal clear water which filled their rivers.
Rio Maria had become a tranquil paradise over the years whilst most other towns in the ever growing Wild West had taken a more ruthless course.
That tranquility soon ended when news of the remote settlements abundance of golden treasures had reached the ears of those who would do anything to get their hands upon the town’s precious golden objects.
There were many men with black hearts to either side of the long border who lived by killing and stealing. Creatures without souls whose greed knew no depths of depravity.
As he drove his mount on toward Sutter’s Corner surrounded his fellow Bar 10 riders, Johnny recalled the day when out of the shimmering heat haze the eighteen outlaws had suddenly arrived in the peaceful Rio Maria.
A chill traced his spine.
No matter how hard Johnny tried to shake the sickening memories from his mind the clearer they became. They tormented him as he allowed his mount to increase its pace beneath him.
The beautiful memory of June’s innocent face was replaced by the horrific recollection of what she had looked like after Bart Savage and his blood-thirsty gang had finished with her.
The young horseman screwed up his eyes and gritted his teeth as the sand whipped his handsome features. Tears trailed from his eyes as Johnny rode on and on. Yet it was not the blinding sandstorm which tortured him.
Johnny had encountered many men with dark souls before he had drifted into the town of Rio Maria but none of them were as bad as Savage and his henchmen.
The mere mention of the outlaw leaders name had opened the floodgates of terrible haunting memories. Memories which he had managed to keep bottled up inside his broken heart for ten years until now.
A decade earlier Johnny had been forced to use his guns in anger after the merciless Savage gang had destroyed nearly every one of the small town’s inhabitants.
Until that moment Johnny had never imagined he could feel such hatred as he had felt the day his beloved sweetheart had been murdered.
Johnny spurred on as his fellow Bar 10 cowboys flanked him yet no matter how fast his mount traveled, he could not outride the horrors which filled his thoughts. Every single one of those horrific visions managed to keep pace with his galloping horse.
The town had been littered with bodies. The streets had turned crimson as they flowed with the blood of those Savage and his gang had mercilessly destroyed in their hunt for every scrap of gold within Rio Maria.
All of the townsfolk killed so that the outlaws could get their hands on the golden ornaments and jewelry within their small homes.
As with so many other outlaws Savage had realized that the perfect crime was one where there were no witnesses to point an accusing finger. Johnny had been on an errand for the sheriff that day and had heard the distant gunfire as he returned to Rio Maria.
That was the only reason he had not suffered the same fate as the rest of the town. He had lost his mind when he had discovered the body of his sweetheart. Grief had turned into a desire for blind vengeance.
Even ten years later it was still as vivid as the fateful day when he had clutched June’s limp blood soaked body in his arms and nursed her until he realized that his prayers would go unanswered.
The shooting had still been echoing in the tiny town as night had fallen. Johnny recalled how he had lost his senses and strapped on his guns that day.
Whatever happened after that was still a blur. He knew that he had somehow survived the encounter with the large gang of venomous killers and managed to kill some of them before they sent a telegraph message to the Texas Rangers.
Johnny had been blamed for the massacre and within hours was himself a hunted man with a price on his head.
Savage had turned the deputy into a wanted outlaw with one simple message. Johnny had been hunted like a dog and shot to ribbons as he fled from the posse.
After that he did have any memories until he had awoken in the ranch house of the Bar 10 weeks later. Tomahawk and Gene Adams had cut the bullets from his body and sewn his wounds up. When Johnny had told Adams his story the rancher had believed him.
From that day on Johnny had a new name and none of them had spoken of it ever again until the rancher had informed his young friend that Bart Savage had finally tracked him down.
Johnny continued to spur his horse on through the sandstorm next to the men who had become like a family to him over the years. None of the other Bar 10 riders could have ever imagined the horrors which Johnny had vainly tried to forget.
Not even Tomahawk or Gene Adams who had found him close to death after he had been riddled with the bullets of a posse of misguided lawmen had an idea of what his young eyes had witnessed or the pain which still dogged his heart.
The six horsemen drew rein on the tree covered rise and looked down through the gusting storm at Sutter’s Corner below their high vantage point.
Johnny shook as the similarity of his riding back to Rio Maria dawned on him.
Adams rubbed the sand from the eyes of his mare and looked at the face of his young pal.
‘You ready, son?’ he asked.
Johnny nodded. ‘I’m ready, Gene.’
The rancher glanced across at the other four horsemen.
‘Are you ready?’
There was a sounding affirmation from the cowboys.
Adams touched the brim of his black hat. ‘C’mon, you bunch of galoots. We got us some killing to stop.’
Then through the raging wind the keen eyes of Red Evans spied something winding its way along the trail due south of their resting place.
‘Lookee yonder, Gene.’ Red spluttered as sand filled his mouth. ‘Ain’t that a stagecoach?’
Adams raised himself in his stirrups and shielded his eyes from the incessant wind. He screwed up his eyes and then gave a nod of his head.
‘It sure is, Red. And it’s headed for Sutter’s Corner.’
‘We can’t let that stage head into town, Gene boy.’ Tomahawk piped up. ‘The passengers and crew will be massacred.’
Johnny reached across and tugged on Adams’ sleeve.
‘Tomahawk’s right, Gene. I’ll stop it.’
The rest of the riders watched as Johnny spurred his mount and thundered down the ridge in a bid to intercept the stagecoach before it reached the town.
The rancher swung his chestnut mare around. He looked at his cowboys and then frantically pointed after Johnny.
‘Well what we waiting for? We gotta help that young hothead. C’mon, boys.’
Like valiant knights from a bygone time, the riders of the Bar 10 thundered down toward the ridge in pursuit of Johnny as the determined horseman tried to stop the stagecoach before it reached Sutter’s Corner.