by Chuck Tyrell
“Thank you all for coming over,” Stryker said to his posse. “You’re the people that convinced me to take this job.”
“You’d better take this badge,” Walt Nation said. He held it out again, and this time, Stryker took it. He unpinned his deputy badge and slipped into a vest pocket, then pinned the marshal’s badge where the other one had been.
Each of the posse shook hands with Stryker, even Elly. “Before, my pa was the marshal in this town. Now it’s Uncle Matt. I can call you ‘uncle,’ can’t I?”
Stryker squatted to bring his eyes to her level. “You surely can, Elly my love. You surely can, and I’m proud to be called your uncle.”
“Come on, Maggie,” Elly said, and skipped from Doc Smithson’s house.
“I’d better follow her,” Maggie said. “You come over to Clark’s when you’ve got a moment. Coffee’s extra good today.”
“I’ll be there,” Stryker said.
But it was far past noon before Marshal Matt Stryker walked into Jesse Clark’s Place for the promised coffee. Maggie brought it without Stryker saying a thing, and she stood with her hands on her hips while he took the first sip.
Stryker shot a look at Maggie. “Better than good, my friend. Much better.”
“Gerard has a cousin in New Orleans. So now we get our beans direct. Roast them right here. Better than Arbuckle’s, no?”
“Much. And Maggie, it’s good to see you back at Jesse Clark’s. And I can’t thank you enough for taking care of Elly.”
“Shucks. Didn’t have a choice, frankly, but thank you anyway.”
Stryker had a good view of Bullion Road from the window of Jesse Clark’s Place. It seemed busier now. Perhaps McQueen’s mines were producing more. My town, he thought, then quickly realized everyone in Silverton thought of it as “my town.” And that was good.
Matt Stryker walked Bullion Road. Up one side and down the other. People greeted him as “Marshal,” and he often put a finger to the brim of his hat in reply. My town. And it was past four in the afternoon by the time he got back to the report the Clark County Sheriff has asked of him.
The leader and last surviving member of the Shadow Box Gang, a man named Cahill Bowman, was captured near the Muddy River on the seventeenth moment. The posse, with said gang leader in custody, proceeded to Moapa, planning to ride from there to Silverton with a minimum risk of water shortage.
While the posse reprovisioned in Moapa, Clark County, Nevada, said gang leader attempted to escape and was shot dead. Thus, the entire Shadow Box Gang has been eliminated, and McQueen Mine’s gold recovered. Unfortunately, we must report that the posse lost two members: a young man known as Jimmy the Kid Leslie and a Seminole scout called Dred.
Signed:
Marshal Matthew Scott Stryker
Silverton, Clark County, Nevada
PICCADILLY PUBLISHING
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The Stryker Series
1. Stryker’s Law
2. Stryker’s Ambush
3. Stryker’s Bounty
About the Author
Chuck Tyrell is the pen name for Charles T. Whipple, an international prize-winning author. Whipple was born and reared in Arizona's White Mountain country only 19 miles from Fort Apache. Raised on a ranch, Chuck brings his own experience into play when writing about the hardy people of 19th Century Arizona. Although he currently lives in Japan, he maintains close ties with the West through family, relatives, former schoolmates, and readers of his western fiction. Whipple belongs to Western Fictioneers, Western Writers of America, Arizona Authors Association, American Society of Journalists and Authors, and Tauranga Writers Inc.