Disaster At Devil's Canyon: Blue River Wilde Western Adventure (Half Breed Haven Book 7)

by A. M. Van Dorn

  Blue River said nothing, letting the man continue his rant.

  “They’ve drained what little money I had from my wife’s inheritance from her parents. Now though, it’s all coming together. Sadie and the others will never want for anything again!”

  Blue River wasted no time to curse after him. He spat at Greystone just before he yelled, “And neither will you conveniently!”

  Greystone had had enough, slugging him again in the stomach, causing Blue River to wince before he angrily summoned one of the braves that had bundled Blue River in.

  “Silent Deer!” he called out and a second later the brave was at his side.

  “Time to die, Blue River. Let’s head for the canyon. Take him, Silent Deer.”

  In turn, Silent Deer happily obeyed and cursed Blue River without empathy, “Come Yavapai filth!”

  He grabbed Blue River by the back of his neck and shouted into his ear, “You’re a half breed, right? I say it’s time we separate the two halves! We go to the wild horses and you soon to know the agony of being torn apart!”

  CHAPTER 9

  On the chief’s command, the brother and sister had been led out of the tent followed by the chief and Greystone. The warriors in the encampment were quickly summoned and all assembled galloped out of the camp leaving the squaws behind.

  The braves and their captives now rode to a nearby canyon which had been the final leg of the route leading Bright Feather to where their tracker had found the camp. Near the canyon’s sloping wall, three recently captured wild horses were tied to a tree and had busied themselves bucking and kicking endlessly. The hostages were quickly yanked off the horses they had been forced to ride.

  Silent Deer and Swift Eagle assumed control of Bright Feather, while two more guarded Blue River. Another two pairs were sent to prepare two of the three horses for what was to come. The Apaches approached the horses and the pair of men looped a rope around the necks of two of the horses as the remaining duo of braves fought to calm them. The men who had looped the ropes around the necks then returned to Blue River and forced him to the ground on his back, binding the ends of the ropes to each of his wrists. They then moved to kneel next to him on either side and hold his legs down.

  As the horses began to grow anxious and move around, Blue River felt the pain of his arms being jerked by their motion. Greystone briefly knelt close to his head and leered over him inquiring sarcastically, “Things aren’t feeling a might too pleasant right about now, Blue River, are they? It’ll be nothing compared to what comes next.” He mocked, “Believe it or not, you’re lucky. We got an odd number of wild horses or I’d have had your ankles tied too. Now that would have been a spectacle for your sweet sister there to see. Watching all four of your limbs torn off once I order those horses set free. The chief here told me he’s dispatched his enemies that way plenty of times, and it's not pretty. As I said, consider yourself lucky. Besides, I owe you one for saving Sadie."

  Watching in horror as her little brother gritted his face from the pain, Bright Feather struggled to break loose, but the two braves that gripped her wouldn’t give in to her attempts. “Don’t do this!!” She shouted in a wavering voice as she eventually gave up struggling.

  Greystone mockingly walked up to her with an ugly look, “Sorry, Bright Feather, but well, Blue River, you, and that Mexican sister of his should have just gone back to your easy life at Cedar Ledge instead of sticking around after the trestle went down!”

  From the ground, Blue River managed to yell up words of truth, “Wildes don’t back away from a fight.”

  Greystone turned away from Bright Feather and whirled to look back down at Blue River, his eyes practically dancing with mirth. “Well, my friend, this is a fight you just lost.”

  “Killing me won’t help you, Greystone. Your days are numbered. You won’t be enjoying your blood money. You’re out of time, and I will tell you why.”

  Greystone appeared unbothered with Blue River’s sudden declaration and gave a shrug of his shoulders. “Bluster. All bluster! Do you think I’m a fool to swallow a feeble stall like that?” He shook his head laughing. “A few more minutes of life won’t mean anything.” His voice thickened as he yelled, “Prepare to meet the Great Spirit, Blue River!”

  Blue River, still maintaining calm in the face of a desperate situation, looked up with a smile. “Well, if that is the case, listen to my last words. They may be of interest to you.”

  Greystone laughed off Blue River’s last statement, but he and Bright Feather both could see his eyes narrow in interest. The railroad man looked at the chief, but as was his nature, the chief’s face remained stoic seemingly not caring one way or the other if Greystone indulged the man he was about to execute.

  “Go ahead, Injun,” he said slyly.

  Blue River managed to raise his head up, ensuring their eyes met as he prepared to shock Greystone to his core.

  “I took your daughter as a lover yesterday afternoon.” His words came out smooth and silky as a slight grin spread on his face.

  Greystone snorted at the preposterousness of the notion, but as Blue River held his eyes, something in his icy gaze unsettled him, and he began to see there was truth being reflected in them. Slowly, the mirth at having the upper hand seemed to drain out of the man, and his face turned as red as his daughter's hair.

  “You heathen bastard!” he yelled in fury.

  Bright Feather quickly waged into the exchange. “So, it’s alright for you to defile an Indian girl, but an Indian can’t lay with a white woman?”

  Greystone didn’t hesitate to silence Bright Feather. With the back of his hand, he landed his second slap of the day across her face.

  “You’ll pay for that!” Blue River yelled when he noticed the blow had sent his sister into a daze. “I already owed you for the first time you raised a hand to her, and I pay back my debts, Greystone!”

  Greystone fumed back. “Enough out of you! You’re a dead man! Do you understand!” his body seemed to be shaking as he still reeled from the image of Sadie in a bed with the man lying at his feet.

  Dropping to his knees, he grabbed Blue River’s ear and twisted it as he yelled. “Do you hear me? Dead! Chief, order your men to untie those horses and let’s have at thi--”

  Suddenly, the air erupted with the sounds of gunfire and war cries. Greystone launched back to his feet looking around wildly. “What -- what’s that?” he shouted apprehensively.

  No longer stoic, the renegade chief pointed toward the far end of the canyon. “We are attacked!”

  The group looked down the canyon to see nearly two dozen men on horseback. They charged toward them boldly shouting and shooting into the air as they advanced. Even more surprising, there was a stagecoach amongst the menagerie as well.

  The chief took command of his men ordering them to engage in the battle, and all but the two braves holding Bright Feather grabbed their weapons and started riding, while others raced along on foot toward the opposing force.

  Greystone cursed under his breath as he sighted the legion that approached them.

  “Son bitch!” he said in awe as he began to recognize the forces that were being arrayed against him. Without even realizing it, he began to say them aloud.

  “Blue River’s sister and his braves! Benson and my other railroad men! The sheriff and his deputies and even goddamn Taylor and his men!”

  Blue River promptly responded, "That's right. As soon as Bright Feather sent me the signal that you were here, I sent my own signal for my forces to standby. After a certain amount of time, they were to attack. It seems they are cutting it a little closer than I would have liked, but in the end, they are here to put you out of business and up on the gallows."

  Blue River continued to mock the corrupt white man.

  “When you went off to lay your trap, I stopped off in Casper’s Crossing first to rally men willing to defeat you and the renegades,” he revealed enjoying his spite.

  Greystone moved quickly to discred
it what he had just been told despite the evidence being right before his very eyes. “No one in the town would have listened to you! An Indian!”

  "I might normally agree that would be the outcome, but I had Benson with me as back up. He verified what I told them because I convinced him you were behind it all!"

  “How??!” Greystone demanded rubbing his forehead and appearing unsteady on his feet.

  Confidently, Blue River laid out the moment that had sparked his suspicion that Greystone was the criminal mastermind of the attacks even as he fought to manage the pain the tugging of the ropes was causing him.

  “Something was nagging at me up at the trestle, but I didn’t know what it was. Turns out it was my mind telling me your story was horseshit! You claimed to have fired a couple shots from your gun.”

  He took a deep breath before he pressed further. "Earlier, something my sister mentioned broke through to me just before we learned of the slaughter of the surveyors. Yes, I knew what it was. When I emptied your gun and tossed away the bullets, there were six rounds in the chamber." Greystone's eyes were permanently glued to Blue River's lips as he listened to the unraveling of his secret. His arms fell straight to his sides, his fists balling up tighter with each word that passed from his captive's mouth.

  "You were lying about shooting the gun you got from the dead chief carpenter!" Blue River fired at him. "If you lied about one thing, I knew you were capable of lying about many things."

  Exposed, Greystone unleased a snort of disgust aimed at himself, “Goddamn! I guess I shouldn’t have lied, but I wanted to make myself look heroic in front of Sadie.”

  Seeming remorseful, and for the briefest of moments displaying a thin vestige of humanity, he attached his actions to the way he felt about his daughters. He murmured with a sad expression engulfing his entire face, “To every girl, their daddy is a hero.”

  The moment passed and Greystone looked up, his face taking on a pallid look as he witnessed that the opposing forces were about to clash down the canyon. The sheriff and his deputies were in the lead, followed by the stagecoach from Taylor’s Cannonball Express. Alongside, on either side, rode some of the men from the Grand Western and Blue River’s braves who wore red bandanas around their necks at Catalina’s suggestion, to mark them and prevent any friendly fire incidents when they engaged in battle.

  Catalina herself was bringing up the rear, engaging in a habit she sometimes practiced when she rode with her sisters. This allowed her to be able to keep watch as well as make sure none ever tried to flank them from behind. Despite the danger, true to Catalina, she laughed as she charged.

  The band of about thirty renegades was barreling directly at them at full speed with dust kicking up behind them. Catalina scanned the canyon looking for other Apaches that could be hiding or planning an ambush but saw nothing. All their foes were straight and center in front of them.

  All the better! she thought and shouted out, “Get ready with that there cannon, Mr. Benson!”

  Atop the stage, Benson had just finished prepping the cannon they had pirated from the front of the stage office. Punk Carnahan, who rode next to Taylor on the bench seat with a rifle aiming straight ahead, called out to Benson over his shoulder.

  “You sure you know how to fire that thing, railroad man!” Carnahan shouted at the top of his lungs as they closed in on their target.

  Screaming back in response, Benson proclaimed, “It’s like I told you back in Casper’s Crossing! I wasn’t always a company man! I spent my younger years in the Army. Saw action in the Mexican War as a buck-toothed teenager. I’m no stranger to artillery!”

  Taylor's confidence grew when he heard that, He began to make declarations immediately.

  “Well, get ready then, because you are about to prove yourself!” Taylor yelled as he whipped the reins even harder. “Okay! On my signal, fire, Mr. Benson!”

  By then, the Apache and the posse were two hundred yards apart. Taylor yelled over his shoulder as soon as he was satisfied with the range. “3, 2, 1, fire, Benson!!”

  CHAPTER 10

  The boom of the cannon’s report echoed throughout the canyon, scaring a flock of vultures skyward. The posse watched as the shell exploded to the left side of the Apache line. Not landing dead center among their ranks made the shot nowhere near perfect, but it delivered results that made the forces from Casper’s Crossing cheer. No one wanted to see innocent horses killed but the explosion took out nearly a dozen mounted braves. The twenty or so members of the posse ultimately found themselves now more evenly matched against Greystone’s hired braves.

  The chief didn’t even bother to look at his fallen men, he kept his eyes on the posse. He held tighter on the reins of his steed. His horse moved him in front of his line. He was prepared for war.

  Carnahan spewed unrestrained joy as he sighted the ruins that the cannon had left in its wake.

  "Whew, doggy!" he shouted laughing. "You weren't a bullshitter, after all, railroad man!"

  From the rear, Catalina beamed with pride that Blue River’s plan to use one of Taylor’s cannons to wipe out as many of their enemies a possible in one fell swoop had succeeded. Her smile faded as she noticed one man separating from the men. As he came faster towards the posse, there was little doubt in her mind he was the leader of the Apaches behind all the recent carnage.

  On the stage top, Benson threw open the small chest strapped to the roof near the cannon and loaded another shell as he prepped the lanyard to take a second shot. With any luck, they would get most of the remaining braves and some well-desired revenge for all his friends and co-workers that had been murdered. Unfortunately, the chief had seen Benson's labors atop and he noticed the way he bent over to retrieve another shell. The battle-hardened warrior knew that should they be struck with one more explosion like the previous one, the fight would be over. The chief reached to his belt and pulled free his tomahawk.

  Expertly he hurled the tomahawk with all his might. Benson was just about to pull the lanyard when he felt the force of the strike knock him back. The pain was immediate and intense. The tomahawk had struck him in his right bicep. For a crazy moment, he saw his feet in the air, as he toppled off the stagecoach, watching the coach lurch forward even as he braced his body to hit the ground.

  Catalina watched the unfortunate event as she drew near and wished she could have been closer to have been able to prevent it. At this moment, however, she had to keep her focus on the mission. Seeing the two groups were now close enough she screamed, “Everyone fire!”

  She cried out and then swung her horse around to go back to where Benson lay sprawled on the ground. Even as she was swinging her horse around to go back and aid Benson, the sheriff and the others let ceased shooting into the air and lowered their guns level and let fly the first rounds. The trainmen, the deputies, and the Yavapai all blasted away with their weapons in a deadly volley. The Apaches did in kind with their bows, arrows, tomahawks, and rifles, which some wielded. The two groups collided and madness ensued as the groups waged war on each other and the blood flew.

  Amidst the battle, the chief felt bullets whiz by him, but he didn’t lessen his resolve. In the process, one of his men next to him took a bullet to the chest and somersaulted off his horse. The frown on the hard-boiled chief’s face could only harden further as more war cries escaped his throat.

  Meanwhile, Punk Carnahan glanced up at the roof of the stagecoach. He looked at the empty space where somebody could be firing the cannon. He hadn’t seen Benson fall though. Immediately, he started to scramble up to the roof to take the missing Benson’s place.

  Back down the canyon, Benson still lay on the ground in pain as Catalina rode up in a haste to her fallen comrade. She quickly jumped off her horse as soon as she got near him and knelt next to him. Blood poured from Benson’s shoulder and without hesitation, she yanked on her shirt sleeve, ripping it, and quickly wrapped it around the man’s bleeding bicep as the man gritted his teeth through the pain.

  �
��I was just about to fire the blasted thing when they got me! Now I don’t think I’m going to make it.”

  Catalina, however, rubbed his uninjured shoulder and seeking to shower him with some optimism said, "I don't reckon you are about to head out to that big range up in the sky. I've seen mosquito bites worse than this! You just hang in there!" she finished with a wink.

  As hoped for, this drew a smile out of him and she leaned closer.

  “Can you stand?”

  Sharp pains surged through his entire body, but after a struggle, Benson managed to rise. He yelled painfully, “Yeah. My arm is not only cut, it sure feels broken from that fall though.”

  Catalina quickly scanned for a hiding place. She stood up, grabbed him, and helped hustle him behind a nearby large boulder she felt would shelter him from any Apache that might come this way. Gently lowering him back to the ground, she pulled out the brand-new six-shooter that Whip had given her for Christmas and placed it in his lap before grabbing his face with her two hands. She patted his cheeks lightly as she said, "If they come for you', let 'em have it."

  Benson nodded his head with determination slowly creeping onto his face.

  Catalina ran back to her horse then, and as she did, several arrows from the battle ahead peppered the ground next to her. She jumped on her horse and headed towards the skirmish not relishing charging into the battle without a weapon other than her bullwhip, but she couldn’t have left Benson defenseless. She’d find another weapon, Catalina was sure of that.

  Meanwhile, in the thick of the clash, the sheriff from Casper’s Crossing was in the process of reloading when he became aware of the chief and two braves behind him who all had rifles locked into their hands with purpose. The chief aimed at the stagecoach and let off one shot. The round failed to hit Taylor, but it did blast one of the Grand Western men right out of his saddle, hitting the canyon floor, dead.

  A second shot from another of the trio caught Carnahan in his calf, sending him sprawling onto the roof of the coach, his bleeding body came to rest by the cannon. Fully reloaded, the sheriff returned fire, shooting twice and killing the two braves that were behind the chief, who momentarily vanished from view as a now riderless horse swept by.