Riders of the Silver Trail

by Franklin D. Lincoln

  It seemed to happen so fast, that Ragan and Daggett hardly had time to react as Toot Tait rode past them and grabbed the left side horse’s bridle to pull the team to a halt.

  Dust mushroomed into the air behind the sliding hoofs of Toot’s mount. The rig jerked to a halt.

  Ragan enraged at the sudden attack, released Francy’s arm and stood up in the wagon box, drawing his pistol automatically, lining his sights and pulling the trigger. Flame belched from the muzzle. The team started to bolt at the sound of the thundering pistol shot. Toot’s horse reared onto its hind legs and the boy’s bloody body pitched out of the saddle and landed in the dirt, his sightless eyes staring blankly into the sun.

  Ragan caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and twisted his body to the right, realizing another rider pulling up alongside the halted rig.

  Josh Tait, eyes blazing with hate, saw Toot go down. He brought his big pistol up to line it on Ragan. Their eyes met briefly as both men fired almost simultaneously.

  The roar of both guns blared as one. Ragan, a look of surprise on his face, fell backward from the wagon onto his back, a blue black hole smoldering between his eyes.

  Josh Tait’s horse thrashed about, the old man swaying back and forth in the saddle, blood spewing from his gaping chest and covering his dirty shirt. Then Tait’s eyes closed and he loosed his hold on the reins and slumped to the ground.

  Arnold Daggett, frightened out of his wits, whipped up the team once more and sent the wagon forward, sweat flowing down his terrified face,

  Francy, now free of Ragan and Daggett with both hands on the traces, saw her chance. She rolled to the side and fell off the wagon, skinning her elbows as she rolled onto the hard packed earth. She watched Daggett disappear on down the road. He would get to Colby now and tell all he knew. Jack was going to be in big trouble now.

  Her immediate concern for Jack was now interrupted as she heard another horse approaching. She turned, half sitting, her hands still flat on the ground. Claude Tait was bringing his horse to a sliding halt before her, kicking dust into her eyes.

  The boy was practically in tears as he saw the bodies of his family before him. He pulled his pistol from his belt and waved it crazily in the air, wailing with an agonizing scream. Francy knew not what to expect. The boy was crazy!

  Then from behind came two more riders. The boy wheeled his horse and saw Mort Dooley and Colonel Montrose fast approaching. Without thought, without regard, the boy started shooting wildly at the oncoming riders, whipping his hose back and forth, churning the dust. He fired rapidly and haphazardly, total disregard for caution.

  The Sheriff slid his horse to a halt and aimed his pistol carefully and deliberately. His finger tightened and the gun barked once. Claude Tait fell backward out of the saddle and lay still.

  Mort and the Colonel rode forward, warily keeping their pistols ready until they had come close enough to see that all of the Taits were dead.

  Francy was now on her feet, brushing the dust off.

  The two riders drew to a halt in front of her. She could see the badge on Mort’s vest. “What in the Sam Hill is going on here, Miss,” Dooley demanded. “And just who are you?”

  “Francy Jones,” she stated flatly as she moved toward Claude’s horse and taking up the reins. “I’m with the government, working with the man you thought was Tom Ragan. That’s the real Ragan.” She pointed a thumb at the dead body. “He’s in with the outlaws. There’s no time to explain further,” she said swinging into the saddle, bunching her skirt above her bare ankles as she settled her feet into the stirrups. “Clean up this mess and don’t say anything to anybody. Wait here until I get back.” She slid a Winchester from its scabbard that was fastened to the saddle rig. She wheeled the horse, reins in her left hand and the rifle held high in her right, drummed the horse’s ribs with her heels and speeded down the road after Daggett’s wagon.

  ****

  CHAPTER 14

  AMBUSH AT THE MINE

  “Where’s the boys?” Colby demanded, walking out into the open area in front of the office building, almost forcing Jack to rein up short before reaching the hitchrail.

  Jack tried to ignore the big man’s excitement and said nonchalantly, as he stepped down from the saddle, “The doc wanted them to stay and rest awhile before getting back.”

  “A while?” Colby boomed. “How long is a while?”

  “Until tomorrow, I suppose.”

  “You suppose?”

  “Well he didn’t say for sure.” Jack said.

  Colby pursed his lips and his face flushed. “We got a shipment coming in tonight. I at least need Rio.” He blustered.

  “I can do anything you’d need Rio for.” Jack half grinned.

  Colby thought a moment, then let out a breath. “Yeah, I guess you could at that.” Colby admitted. Then added, “There’s a load of silver bullion coming in tonight. It’s being shipped up here from Mexico. We don’t tell them exactly where it’s going until we inspect the shipment and look the crew over, so we meet them south of here and then bring it on in.”

  “So you need me to go with you to meet them?”

  “Yes. If there is any trouble I’ll expect you to handle it.”

  “Fine,” then added, “Where do we meet them?”

  Colby drew his dark brows together and stared coldly into Jack’s eyes. “You’ll find out when we get there.”

  Jack nodded, refusing to push the matter further. Colby still didn’t trust him enough. They stared at each other trying to read each other’s faces.

  The silence between the two men was suddenly broken as the sound of a team and wagon came barreling into the valley amidst a cloud of dust. Arnold Daggett was standing crouched on the wagon box, lashing his whip against the tiring team’s backs and shouting at them with urgency. The team came racing forward, headed straight for where Colby and Jack stood, without slowing. Terror filled the driver’s eyes and he lashed the whip again.

  Jack and Colby stepped back abruptly as if moving out of the way as the wagon came slewing to a sliding halt in front of them, Daggett standing erect now and hauling the reins back as far as he could to pull the lathered horses to a halt.

  The rig had not yet completely halted as a rifle shot echoed from high on the hill bordering the far side of the valley. A puff of powdersmoke wafted up out of the tree lined ridge.

  Daggett’s body suddenly stiffened and he stood erect, a surprised shock covering his face. Then he fell forward, pitching to the side of the wagon and rolling in the grass, a massive blotch of red blossoming across his back.

  The team started to bolt forward, but Jack leapt forward and grasped the bridle. Digging his heels into the dirt and sliding forward with the team for a few feet, he finally brought them under control, lashed the reins to the hitchrail and sprinted toward Daggett’s fallen body.

  Colby had already reached the lawyer and was kneeling down, cradling the man’s head in his arms. Daggett was gasping his last breaths as Jack bent down. Daggett’s eyes rolled upward toward Jack. He tried to speak, “R..r..rr,” He croaked, eyes bulging, then slumped into death.

  Colby dropped the lawyer’s head onto the ground and stood up glaring at Jack.

  “Did he say anything?” Jack asked.

  “No! Not really,” Colby blurted, gazing to the hills where the shot had come from. “But I know it was that Dark Rider. I’ve had enough of him!” Colby squeezed his hands shut in tight massive fists. “He’s got to be stopped!”

  Jack followed the gaze to the top of the ridge. He saw nothing. The shooter was out of sight or had gone. “I’ll get him, Ben.” Jack said with conviction as he turned and strode toward his big red stallion.

  “Yeah, you do that,” Colby growled. “Don’t come back without him!”

  Jack swung into the saddle, wheeled the red stallion and sent him racing off across the valley and climbing the hill to the ridge.

  Ben Colby stood stock still, watching him go. Then as the horse an
d rider disappeared over the ridge, Colby glanced around and saw that many of the mineworkers were standing about curious as to what was happening. “You men have work to do. Stop gawking and get back on the job! This doesn’t concern you. Got that?’

  He didn’t wait to see their reaction, he just turned and stormed back inside the office building.

  As he slammed the door behind him, his rage grew even hotter and his eyes blazed with hate as he stared at the girl he knew as Sue Gordon kneeling in front of his safe with the door open and papers in her hand.

  She gasped with surprise and her lashes flashed. She had been caught.

  “Now what do we have here, Miss Gordon?” He peeled his lips back over his teeth and growled. “Curiosity kills the cat. Or should I say little girls?”

  ****

  CHAPTER 15

  DEADLY KILLER

  It was past mid afternoon when Jack Clayton rode back into the valley. Ben Colby had seen him coming and strode outside to meet him. He waited for several minutes, watching the procession before him. The man he knew as Tom Ragan rode the big red horse along the trail at a slow steady walk, trailing reins behind him as a black stallion lumbered along to the rear. A black garbed figure lay limply across the saddle tied into place with a lariat.

  “You got him?” Colby shouted excitedly. “You actually got the Dark Rider?”

  “I sure did,” Clayton said pulling up close to Colby and starting to descend from the saddle. “It took a little doing, but I got him,” he said smugly, striding toward the black and its burden.

  Jack lifted the Dark Rider’s head and pulled the mask off, so Colby could see the face clearly. There was a blue black hole between the man’s eyes beneath his shock of thick black hair. Colby drew close and looked intently at the face. “Know him?” Jack asked curtly, already knowing the answer.

  “No,” Ben said quietly, pondering. “Can’t say that I have.” He thought a moment, “Funny, I thought sure it would be someone I had seen before. Wonder what his game was?” Then he addressed Jack deliberately. “You sure he’s the Dark Rider?”

  “As sure as I’ll ever be. I found where his horse had been milling about in the trees while he was waiting. Then I trailed him until I caught up with him. He tried to shoot it out with me. Big mistake,” Jack gloated.

  “Well that’s one thorn out of our side,” Colby said. “But I’ve got more bad news.” Without waiting for response from Jack, he supplied. “I caught that fool Gordon girl breaking into my safe.”

  “What?” Jack was genuinely surprised. He almost did not dare to ask the next question, but did. “What did you do with her?” He held his breath.

  “I wanted to kill the little wildcat,” he said. “She put up one hell of a fight, but I managed to knock her out and tie her up. Figured, I would wait until the workers left for the day before doing her in. Didn’t want any more shots to peak their curiosities.”

  Clayton felt relief, but did not show it. “That was probably a smart idea, boss,” he said. Colby smiled with satisfaction.

  “We’re going to need a good explanation for her death,” Jack said. “Maybe we can use everything that’s happened here to our advantage. I can say the Dark Rider shot both Daggett, which he did, and the girl just before I got him. That will put me in good with the Sheriff and the miners and they’ll think I’ve gotten results for them.” He chuckled.

  Seeing the humor, Ben Colby nodded in agreement. He grinned broadly. “You’re a smart fellow,” he beamed. “You’ll do to ride the river with. Yes indeed, I think you’ll do.” Then he added, “But, there’s no time today. I need you tonight and there won’t be time for you to take them into town and get back.”

  “We can stash the bodies until later,” Jack said. “What did you do with Daggett’s body?”

  “I put it in the refinery and covered it over with a tarp.”

  “Fine. We can stash the Dark Rider and the girl in there too. Maybe it might be a good idea to shut down work early today.” Jack said.

  “Good idea. You get rid of the Dark Rider’s body while I go roust the men out. When I get back, you can go ahead and kill the girl.” Colby grinned and slapped Jack on the shoulder with approval, then turned and strode away.

  Clayton had just emerged from the refinery after putting the body away. He could see the miners exiting the valley, another day of labor complete. Ben Colby was striding back toward the office. He saw Clayton and waved as if all was clear. Jack waved back in acknowledgement, then quickened his step and entered the office leaving the door wide open.

  Colby came to an abrupt halt, startled with surprise at the blast of a single gun shot within the building. He ran forward with excitement. He hadn’t expected Tom Ragan to be so sudden. The man was a killer! What a man!

  The acrid smell of gunsmoke still filled the small room as Colby reached the doorway and stared at the scene before him. Tom Ragan was still smiling to himself with satisfaction. Smoke trailed from the muzzle of his pistol, hanging low in his outstretched hand over the girl’s body, her blouse stained red.

  He turned, acknowledging Ben in the doorway. He smiled. “That was nice,” he almost whispered and shoved his six gun back into its holster with a slap.

  Colby didn’t know what to say. Ragan’s brutal coldness sent chills up his spine.

  “She..she’s dead?” Colby stammered.

  “That she is, my friend.” Jack said triumphantly. He stooped and lifted the girl from the floor and slung her body loosely over his shoulder.

  Colby stepped aside as the man he knew as Tom Ragan brushed passed him and swaggered off toward the refinery with his trophy.

  ****

  CHAPTER 16

  FOUL UP

  The sun was setting low when Sheriff Mort Dooley strode down the dusty street toward Doc Finch’s house. It was a low one story cottage with a white picket fence toward the edge of town. The Doctor maintained both residence and office there.

  Mort stepped up onto the porch and rapped on the door. After a moment or two, the door opened and a short squat man in his late sixties peered out at him through round pince nez glasses.

  “Hiya, Doc,” Mort Greeted. “Understand, you have some of Ben Colby’s men here for fixin’ up”

  “Al’s still here,” Doc answered. “Shot up too bad to ride. You just missed Rio and Shorty.”

  The sheriff’s jaw sank. He was dumfounded. He had been instructed to arrest these men before they could return to Colby. He was too late.

  Rio and Shorty, feeling better and knowing that a shipment was due tonight, had decided they better get back to the mine. But first they wanted to check in on Arnold Daggett. And, that was what had brought them to the door of the attorney’s office.

  As was their habit, they barged right on in without knocking. Instead of finding the weasel looking lawyer behind his desk, they were surprised to see a woman dressed in range shirt , men’s blue jeans, and a pistol belt, going through file cabinets, her back to them, her uncovered blond hair streaming down the back of her neck.

  She spun around, surprised at the sound of the opening door and stared into the grinning faces of the two grimy men.

  “So, what have we got here?” Rio chided, moving forward quickly.

  Francy Jones grabbed for the pistol in the holster hanging on her right hip and had it half way out when Rio reached her, grasping her wrist with his pained left and pinning her gun arm to her side, he slapped her face with the back of his right.

  She twisted her face back and spat at him. She struggled, but now Shorty had hold of her too. They pushed her back against the open file drawer. It slammed shut as she followed it back until she was held firmly against it. She felt the pistol being pulled from her grasp and heard it clatter to the wood floor with a thud. Rio’s large dirty hand covered her mouth and his splayed bony fingers squeezed her cheeks.

  Rio’s dark eyes bore into her’s, barely an inch away. The smell of his breath was putrid. “Now just what are you doing here any
ways? Who are you? And where’s Daggett?” Obviously, he really didn’t want an answer right now, for he didn’t remove his hand.

  She glared at him, defiantly.

  “Say, I remember now. I saw you at the Red Bull dealing cards. You know what? The boss is gonna want to know about you.”

  Mort Dooley, confounded as to what to do had left the Doc’s house and hurried back down the street when he saw the riders ahead of him heading the other direction toward the other end of town. Even in the gathering dusk, he recognized Rio and Shorty. But there was a third rider, between them. His heart seemed to skip a beat. He stood stock still in shock. The third rider was Francy Jones.

  Rio and Shorty with Francy as their prisoner pushed their mounts full speed out of town heading for Colby’s mine. The pounding hooves droned loudly in the early evening air and churned dust into a billowing cloud. They had gone about a mile when Rio , checking their back trail saw the pursuing lone rider behind them. It was already too dark to recognize the rider even if he had been closer. The urgency with which he rode, told Rio that, whoever it was, he was probably in pursuit of the trio.

  Signaling to Shorty, Rio slowed the pace of his horse. Shorty looked back and knew at once that Rio was warning him of pursuit. He glanced back at Rio looking for instructions.

  Rio motioned with his thumb up the trail toward a high rise strewn with large boulders and Aspen trees. Shorty nodded and the riders turned their mounts off the trail to climb the steep incline, trailing the reins of Francy’s horse as they went. The horses’ hooves slid against the loose dirt and rocks along the bank. They had to really dig in to make the grade. Francy grasped tightly to the saddle horn and swayed violently back and forth as they finally made their way to the top of a ridge and pulled to a halt behind a large boulder.

  Rio and Shorty quickly dismounted, pulling rifles from their saddle scabbards as they stepped down. Rio grasped Francy’s arm and pulled her from the saddle, letting her fall into the rock hard dirt. She rolled over and tried to rise, only to find Rio standing over her, the muzzle of his Winchester scant inches from her face. Her eyes flashed and she clenched her jaw.