The Ghost Riders

by James J. Griffin

  ● ● ●

  Despite the Rangers’ trepidations, the next two days passed uneventfully. They made their final camp of the journey about twenty miles outside Huntsville. Their prisoners had been fed, and now Charlie and Ty were having their own suppers.

  “Last night,” Ty said. “I’ll sure be glad to see the walls of that prison tomorrow.”

  “So will I, bet a hat on it,” Charlie said. He took a swallow of his coffee. “One night in Huntsville, then we’ll be on our way home, me back to Mary Jane, and you back to Josie.”

  “Hey, Ranger,” Obadiah Haskell called.

  “What d’ya want, Haskell?” Charlie called back.

  “I’ve gotta pee, real bad. Can’t hardly do that chained to this here wagon wheel. You mind turnin’ me loose, so I can go?”

  “Reckon I’d best let him up,” Charlie said. He put down his coffee cup and got up, with a sigh.

  “I’m comin’ Haskell.”

  “Hurry it up, Ranger, before I pee my pants.”

  “Be careful, Charlie,” Ty urged. “He might be tryin’ to pull somethin’.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be ready if he tries anythin’,” Charlie reassured him. “You just keep a sharp lookout.”

  “You can count on that,” Ty said.

  “C’mon, Ranger!” Haskell pleaded.

  “I told you, I’m comin’. Just keep your pants on,” Charlie answered.

  Ty looked at him and chuckled.

  “I can’t believe you just said that, pardner.”

  “What can I say? Some of my pa rubbed off on me.”

  “More than you know, Charlie. More than you know.”

  Charlie walked over to the wagon and unlocked Obadiah’s shackles from the wheel. Obadiah got slowly to his feet.

  “I thought you were in a hurry,” Charlie said. He kept his six-gun trained on the man’s chest.

  “I am. Just got to get my circulation goin’. My feet are plumb numb.”

  “Just get movin’.” Charlie shoved Obadiah toward the clump of brush they were using as a privy. They had just walked behind it when Charlie stepped on a loose rock. His foot shot out from under him. He tried to recover, twisted, and fell on his stomach. Instantly, Obadiah was on him. He drove a knee into the small of Charlie’s back. Charlie arched in pain. Obadiah looped the chain shackling his wrists around Charlie’s neck. He pulled back hard, choking him. Silver spots swam before Charlie’s eyes as his air was cut off.

  Ty, concentrating on the other prisoners, didn’t hear the commotion. Charlie still had his six-gun in his hand, and squeezed off one shot.

  “Charlie!” Ty headed for the brush on the run. He circled behind it, to see Obadiah on Charlie’s back, his shackles digging into his neck. Charlie’s head lolled, limply. Evidently, he was already unconscious, or close to it. Perhaps even dead.“Turn him loose, Haskell!’ Ty ordered.

  Obadiah’s only response was to pull back harder on Charlie’s throat.

  “I said turn him loose!” Obadiah gave another jerk. Ty aimed his rifle at the middle of his back and fired. The bullet took Obadiah square in the middle of his shoulder blades, severing his spine. He slumped on top of Charlie. Ty rushed over to them.

  “Charlie!”

  “Get him… get him offa… me!’ Charlie gasped, his voice raspy. Ty lifted Obadiah’s arms over Charlie’s head, pulling the chains away from his throat, then shoved his body aside.

  “You all right?”

  Charlie rolled onto his back, rubbing his throat. The chains had dug deeply into his flesh. Livid welts were rising where they had been wrapped around his neck.

  “I am… now. Obadiah?”

  “Dead. I had no choice but to plug him. He wouldn’t let loose, and you looked like you were already a goner. What happened? How’d he get the drop on you?”

  “Doggone loose stone. I stepped on one, twisted my ankle, and lost my balance. He was on top of me before I even knew it. Thanks, Ty. Reckon you saved my life.”

  “Don’t even mention it. That’s why we’re pards. Lemme help you up. We’d better get back to the others.”

  “I reckon we’d better.”

  Ty grasped Charlie’s hand and pulled him upright. Charlie stood, shakily.

  “You gonna be able to walk?” Ty asked.

  “Yeah. I’ll be fine,” Charlie said. He tested his weight on the ankle. A twinge of pain shot through it, but he was able to walk, albeit with a bad limp.

  Ty looked at Obadiah, lying dead, his face locked in a grimace of pain.

  “Well, I reckon he don’t need to pee after all,” he said, with a laugh. “Let’s go.”

  When they returned to the wagon, they found the remaining prisoners just as they had left them.

  “Where’s our brother, Ranger?” Joshua asked.

  “He’s dead. Tried to choke my pardner,” Ty answered. “All he got for his trouble was a bullet in the back. Any of you make even the smallest wrong move, and you’ll get the same. Now just settle down.”

  Ty’s answer was met with a string of oaths. He sent a bullet into the wagon’s side, just over Joshua’s head.

  “I said settle down, or the next one’ll be through your stomach.”

  “Ty, I’m gonna get some salve, and take care of these scrapes on my throat,” Charlie said.

  “You’d better,” Ty agreed. “They’re lookin’ kinda raw. I’ll bet it’ll be a few days before you get your voice back, too. Boy howdy, that was a close call for you. Soon as you’re done, I’ll get Obadiah’s body. Figure we should wrap it up and haul it the rest of the way to Huntsville, bein’ as we’re less’n a day aware. He won’t start stinkin’ too bad before we get there.”

  “All right.”

  Charlie cared for his hurts, then Ty dragged Obadiah’s body back into camp, wrapped it in a tarp, and loaded it into the wagon.

  “You want me to take first watch, Charlie?” he asked.

  “No.” Charlie shook his head. “My neck’s hurtin’ so bad I won’t be able to sleep anyway. You get some rest. Mebbe by the time my watch is up, the pain won’t be quite so bad.”

  “Okay, pard.”

  Ty rolled up in his blankets, while Charlie settled against a juniper. He shuddered, thinking on just how close he had come to dying this night.

  “Oh, well, it’s all part of bein’ a Ranger,” he whispered. “Never know when your time’ll come. But that goes for just about anyone.” He sighed, and let his rifle drop into his lap.

  ● ● ●

  The last twenty miles passed with no sign of anyone attempting to free the Haskells, nor any sign on their part they were even expecting any help. The rode sullenly, eyes downcast. By four o’clock in the afternoon, they were safely behind the forbidding high brick walls of Huntsville prison. Obadiah’s body was consigned to the prison graveyard. Now, Charlie and Ty were headed for town.

  “There’s still some daylight left. You want to start back tonight, soon as we wire Cap’n Storm and have our supper, Ty?” Charlie asked.

  “Nah,” Ty answered. “We wouldn’t get all that far before dark. I’m as eager to get home as you are, but I’d sure like to have a nice, hot bath, get a shave and haircut, then a good meal and a few beers. A night in a stall, with a good feedin’, will do our horses some good, too.”

  “That’s exactly what I was thinkin’,” Charlie said. “We’ll get a good night’s sleep, and start out fresh in the mornin’. C’mon, Splash, step lively there.”

  He and Ty heeled their horses into a lope.

  11

  “Well, we certainly had a busy day, even with the rain and fog,” Mike Jarratt said to his wife and daughter, as he turned the key and locked the store’s front door. “A lot of goods left the place. We’ll have to decide whether to work late tonight, restocking the shelves, or get up early and do the stocking before we open in the morning.”

  “Father, why can’t we just refill the shelves after we open tomorrow morning?” Mary Jane asked. “If a customer comes in
looking for an item that’s not out, we can always get it from the stock room for him, or her.”

  “Mary Jane’s right, Mike,” Bethea agreed. “It’s been an exhausting day. We never stopped waiting on customers, all afternoon. I think we should just have our supper, and get to bed early. That way, we’ll be refreshed and rested come morning.”

  “You know very well we can’t do that,” Mike answered. “Jarratt’s store has always prided itself on having a complete selection of merchandise, out where the customers can examine it. That’s the way my grandfather ran the store, the way my father ran the store, and the way I run the store. Our customers expect it, and we will not disappoint them. It won’t take all that long to get this done, working together.”

  “All right,” Mary Jane said, with a sigh. “I don’t have anything else to do tonight anyway. Charlie isn’t due home for a few more days. I might as well work, rather than sit around moping, while I wait for him to return.”

  Mike winked at Bethea before answering Mary Jane.

  “Young lady, did it ever occur to you the reason we’ve been so busy these past few weeks is you? Why do you think all those young cowboys come in here all the time? It’s not because they need so much tobacco, or shirts, or boots. It’s because they enjoy looking at a pretty young lady.”

  “Father!” Mary Jane exclaimed.

  “It’s true,” Mike insisted. “Isn’t it, Bethea?”

  “Just like a young woman enjoys watching good-looking young cowboys. An older woman, too, for that matter,” Bethea said.

  “Mother! You and father are both so… so exasperating,” Mary Jane said. “Well, it doesn’t matter how many cowboys come into this store. I married Charlie, I’m deeply in love with him, and there will never be another man for me. So there!”

  “We were just teasing you, daughter,” Mike said. “You and Charlie are a perfect match. Everyone in town knows that. I must say, however, that I will regret seeing him ride up. That means I’ll lose my best helper. You’ll disappear for days.”

  “Or weeks, if I’m fortunate,” Mary Jane retorted. “I hope Charlie has enough time on leave so we can at least start building our new home.”

  “I’m certain he will, darling,” Bethea assured her.

  “And if we don’t get to work, these shelves will still be empty when he gets here,” Mike said.

  “All right, husband. We get the hint,” Bethea said. “Mary Jane, why don’t you work on the women’s dresses, while I restock the yard goods?”

  “Fine, Mother.”

  “I’ll get started on the lanterns,” Mike said. “We had a run on those today, for some reason.”

  ● ● ●

  An hour later, they were nearly finished with their work.

  “Bethea, will you and Mary Jane please…” Mike stopped short, at the sound of hard ridden horses galloping up the street. He looked out the window, to see a group of white-robed horsemen race by.

  “Mary Jane, Bethea! Get in the back room. Now!” he ordered.

  “What is it, Mike?” Bethea asked.

  “Don’t question me! Just get out of sight, quick!” He reached for a Winchester on the display rack. Just as he grabbed it, four of the raiders peeled off from the rest. One tossed a burning torch through the front window. It wedged itself between two kegs of black powder, its flames licking hungrily at the wooden barrels. Another man shot Mike in the back. Mike yelled, arched in pain, then slumped to the floor.

  “Michael!” Bethea screamed. She and Mary Jane ran to him, and knelt alongside her dying husband.

  “Go… go… get outta here,” Mike gasped. “Go.”

  “No!” Bethea said, sobbing. “I’ll not leave you.”

  “Go… go! Mary Jane, take your mother out of here.”

  “Yes… yes, Father,” Mary Jane answered. She took her mother’s arm and began to drag her under a table.

  The four men attacking the store dismounted and walked inside. Mary Jane’s eyes widened with fright. She screamed.

  “Screamin’ won’t do you any good, girlie,” one of the men said. He pulled off his robe, and tugged at his belt.

  Fear for her daughter’s safety overcame Bethea’s shock at the murder of her husband. She pulled out of Mary Jane’s grasp and lunged at the two raiders.

  “Don’t you dare touch my baby,” she shouted, gouging at the man’s face. She ripped off his mask.

  “You hadn’t ought’a done that, lady,” he snarled. He brought the barrel of his six-gun down on Bethea’s head. She grabbed at his neck as crumpled to the floor, pulling off a turquoise medallion he wore on a leather string. He put two bullets into her back.

  “Now, girlie, me’n you are gonna have a real good time,” the man said to Mary Jane. He fumbled with the buttons of his denims. A bandanna still masked his face.

  “We don’t have time for that, Cannon,” one of the other men said. “You’ll make the boss awful mad, wastin’ time with that gal. And if he finds out you took off that robe, so these women got a look at you…”

  “Neither of ’em’ll be able to do any talkin’. And this won’t take long, Stonefield,” Cannon answered. “You start lootin’ the place while I have some fun with this pretty young filly.”

  He grabbed Mary Jane and pulled her body against his. She twisted in a futile effort to break his grip. She yanked off his bandanna, revealing his features.

  “A spunky one. I like that in a woman,” he growled. He ripped open Mary Jane’s blouse, then dropped his pants to his ankles.

  “You’re gonna enjoy this, girlie,” he said, tugging at her skirt.

  “No… no,” Mary Jane pleaded. “Please, no.”

  “Don’t bother beggin’,” the raider said. He squeezed her arm, digging his fingernails into the flesh. Mary Jane whimpered.

  “No. Please, don’t.” Then her eyes blazed with fury, she bit his arm, and slapped him across the face.

  “Why, you little…. I’ll teach you.” The raider shoved her to the floor, then leveled his gun at her forehead.

  “Cannon, we’ve gotta get outta here,” one of the others yelled. “This place is liable to blow any minute.”

  “I’m takin’ this here gal with me,” Cannon shouted back. He pulled his pants up. “C’mon, Stonefield, gimme a hand with her.”

  He dragged the struggling Mary Jane to her feet. Stonefield grabbed one of her arms, Cannon the other. They pulled Mary Jane outside, the other two men close behind.

  The flames had eaten their way through one of the powder kegs. It exploded with a tremendous roar, setting off the others on the shelf.

  “Drop that gal, you fools! We’re pullin’ out, right now,” someone ordered. Mary Jane was released, and fell to the street. That voice, those blasts, the crackle of flames, and the sounds of exploding ammunition were the last things Mary Jane heard, before she sank into a sea of black.

  ● ● ●

  As in all the other towns they had attacked, the Ghost Riders did their work in San Leanna with deadly efficiency. Two of them headed straight for the marshal’s office. When Tom Colburn ran out, having heard the commotion when the raiders galloped into town, they cut him down in a hail of lead. Others went to O’Malley’s restaurant. Two sticks of dynamite were thrown through its windows, the subsequent explosion obliterating the building. Others methodically hit every business in town, gunning down anyone they came across. When they raided the Shenandoah Saloon, Beau Stanton held them off from behind the bar, for a few moments. When he ran out of ammunition, he grabbed the Confederate cavalryman’s sword which hung over the bar, whirled, and ran it through a raider’s belly, just before several bullets ripped the life out of him.

  “Grab the liquor and cash, then set the place afire,” the apparent leader of the group ordered.

  “What about Walt?” one of the others asked.

  “Just leave him lyin’ there. The fire’ll take care of him. No one’ll be able to identify him. When they find his bones, they’ll figure he was just one of
the customers.”

  “If you say so.”

  The shelves were cleaned of liquor, the cash drawer emptied. Two coal oil lamps were smashed on the floor, their fuel soaking into the sawdust. A match was tossed into the oil-soaked wood, quickly taking hold.

  “Let’s head for the hotel,” the leader ordered. “The others should be waitin’ by now.”

  As with almost all the other businesses, the Duncan Hotel was burning furiously. The flames luridly illuminated the white-robed horsemen gathered in front of it.

  “Where’s Drake and Brennan?” the leader asked.

  “Dunno, boss,” one man answered. “Last I saw of ’em, they went into the store, along with Cannon and Stonefield. I saw those two come runnin’ out, draggin’ a gal along, but didn’t see a sign of Drake or Brennan. I yelled at Cannon and Stonefield to drop the gal. Then the place blew up. I reckon they got caught in the blast.”

  “Where’s those two fools now?” the leader asked.

  “We’re right here, boss,” Stonefield called, as they rode up. “Our horses run off when that store exploded. We had to catch ’em. Didn’t want to leave ’em behind, with our gear.”

  “What about Drake and Brennan? And where’s your mask and robe, Cannon?”

  “They were still inside,” Cannon answered. “I’d reckon they’re in as many pieces as the store, right about now. Far as my disguise, the gal’s mother ripped ’em off me. Don’t worry about her seein’ my face. She’s dead. I made sure of that.”

  The leader cursed, then said, “We’ll have to leave ’em. There won’t be anythin’ left of ’em to recognize, so we should be all right. And if either of you two idiots try takin’ a gal alive, ever again, I’ll cut you into bits even smaller’n what remains of your two pardners. Let’s go!”

  “Hey, I had nothin’ to do with that woman,” Stonefield protested. “That was all Cannon’s idea.”

  “It don’t matter whose it was, it was stupid. You’d better hope that gal can’t identify you,” the leader snapped.

  “Don’t worry,” Cannon answered. “She’s dead, too, under what’s left of the store.”