CRAZY HORSES: A Porter Rockwell Adventure (Dark Trails Saga Book 2)

by David J. West

  With the splash, Porter began to feel better. He saw the bag floating away on the stream, disappearing in the clear waters.

  Mala Cosa sprang awake, though bound hand and foot he lunged upward as best he could.

  “Porter! You stole my conjure bag! I must have it back!”

  “Like Hell, you wicked old cuss.”

  “I can’t work my magic’s anymore! You must get it back for me, and I will remove my curse upon you!”

  Porter was already feeling better, the dark circles in his vision were departing and his hearing was restored.

  “Please. Unchain me for I will follow you like a dog. I will be as your servant, just return to me my conjure bag,” pleaded Mala Cosa.

  The others had gathered about now and were astonished at the old sorcerer’s sudden change in demeanor.

  “Did I just hear what I thought I heard?” asked Roxy.

  Porter struggled to stand, but made it on his own as the others reached him and put their hands on his elbows and back.

  “I’m all right, getting better every moment, now that his black magic is getting washed away.”

  “What happened?” they asked at once.

  Porter braced himself against the tree and said, “Somehow, old Mala Cosa here got a hold of some of my hair. He put it in his medicine pouch to bewitch me. That’s why I felt so terrible. His magic was working on me something fierce.”

  “But is it over now?”

  “How could he do that? You’re a Christian, that pagan magic shouldn’t hold any sway on you!”

  Porter laughed. “We’d all like to think that, but there are some awful strange things in this world. I need a drink.”

  “I’ll get you some water,” offered Emily.

  “Nope. Get me some of my whiskey.”

  Roxy frowned.

  “Please,” said Porter, looking sheepishly from one woman to the other.

  “Without my conjure bag,” lamented Mala Cosa, “I can work no more magic. I am as other men. Please, slay me and end my travels on this earth. Let me go into the next world.”

  “Hell no. You’re going before the judge of the land and we are going to find out all we can about your crimes. You are gonna be served some justice.”

  Mala Cosa slumped back down with his head in his hands. The stringy grey hair covered his features, but it sounded as if he were weeping.

  No one had pity for him and the smell was still atrocious so they all slowly backed away and returned to the campfire upwind.

  “Is this nightmare really over?” asked Emily. “Are the dark things he worked to bring about all done?”

  “So far as I can tell. All I know is once that bag touched the water, I started to feel a whole lot better. And with as upset as he is, I sure hope it’s the complete truth and that he has been castrated of all magical abilities.”

  Quincy laughed. “You got a way with words, Yankee.”

  “The power of language has its limits. It took throwing that damn bag to the four winds to break this.”

  “Not the winds,” Roxy corrected, “but the purity of water.”

  “Whichever. It’s done.”

  29. Reunion

  As they approached the final stretch before they entered the valley and passed by the Elk Mountain Mission, Porter’s curiosity got the better of him. He rode alongside the trundled Mala Cosa and asked, “Tell me about that spell you put on me.”

  Mala Cosa had lost all sense of grim superiority and vengefulness. “It was not a spell. It was a bewitching. You would have been dead before we reached the fort, of that I am sure.”

  “You disappointed?”

  Mala Cosa sulked in the saddle. “It is done. I can work no more.”

  Quincy rode up beside Porter asking, “I imagine Bill is going to be awful upset. What are your plans on keeping the peace?”

  Porter shrugged. “We offer him what we can, I suppose. The man is entitled to be paid fairly for a boat.”

  “You suggesting we pool some of our gold together?”

  “That’d be fair.”

  Quincy frowned. He didn’t like Bill and was hoping to hang onto as much coin as possible. “Couldn’t you say we had to requisition it for deputy service?”

  “I could, but not paying him wouldn’t be honest. Sides we want him to have a flat boat. What if we ever need to come down here and requisition it again?”

  Quincy furrowed his brow and shook his head, saying, “You cold, Yankee.”

  “Stop calling me that, Quint.”

  “And you stop calling me, Quint!”

  “Maybe I will.”

  Mala Cosa groaned. “Kill me now.”

  They rode along the high red-rock cliffs as the valley opened before them, making good time and reaching the fort by noon.

  Frenchie was out front, working on a butter churn.

  Emily rode ahead asking, “Where’s momma?”

  Frenchie was about to answer when Bill stepped outside the doors. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the boat thieves.”

  Porter called out, “Bill, we’ll give you some restitution. I didn’t know they cheated you.”

  Bill snorted. “Don’t look at me and tell me that rain ain’t wet and the sky isn’t up! You knew damn well they were getting me drunk so you could take the flatboat. You probably put them up to it!”

  “Believe what you like but I that’s not how it was. I didn’t want them sharing my whiskey with anyone. Let alone you.”

  Bill’s still glared at them, but then a smile crossed his face as he said, “I expect you’ll keep your word and pay me something good for it?”

  “I will. We have funds with us right now, as a matter of fact.”

  “Well come on in and take a load off then.”

  They sat around the central fire in the courtyard and ate a wild turkey for dinner. They kept Mala Cosa tied up outside the fort, but did bring him some scraps to eat, though he refused it.

  Talk went over their river adventure and through the desert, and, of course, the strange man they had tied up outside and the ultimate fate of Matamoros.

  Bill listened, but didn’t mention anything of what had happened while they were away until Emily could take no more.

  “Where is my Momma and sisters?”

  Bill’s mood darkened. “Well, some deputy name of Brody Shaw came here just as you all left. He stayed on til the morning and took the ladies with him. He had quite an ax to grind against you Port. He seemed to think he was going to find some evidence against you relating to something that went down with the ladies. You know wherever you rescued them from.”

  “You mean killing nine of those slavers?”

  “That’s about the size of it,” agreed Bill.

  “But Mr. Rockwell saved us from them. We were bound to become sacrifices for the old wizard out there. He was gonna do blood magic on us!” shouted Emily.

  “You don’t gotta convince me. I’m just the messenger,” said Bill.

  Frenchie grunted his agreement. “Oui.”

  Porter rubbed at his beard. “Well, it will get sorted out. With the ladies as witnesses I don’t imagine any jury in the territory would convict me.”

  “You’re forgetting something. Shaw was taking it into consideration that you kidnapped the girl here.”

  “Me? I was a stowaway on the flatboat.”

  “I ain’t the judge though,” said Bill.

  “I hear ya,” said Porter. “Shaw is going to get Judge Spicer to put a warrant out for my arrest for kidnapping the girl plus any so-called evidence he can find on the Matamoros gang.”

  “You mean there are bodies that Redbone didn’t hide?” asked Roxy.

  Bill’s eyebrows raised high at that remark. “Your wounded Indian friend there hides bodies for you?”

  “It ain’t like that. But yeah, he never did a thing with what was left of that wagon, and I was in such a hurry to get back to you all that I freed the women and told them to ride here since I couldn’t take care of them.�
�

  Bill laughed. “This rabbit hole just gets deeper and deeper don’t it, Frenchie?”

  “Oui.”

  “You goading me, Bill? Cause I’m telling you that I am innocent of whatever Shaw told you, regardless of how this sounds.”

  Bill grinned. “You don’t gotta tell me. I heard it from all those ladies time and again for a week, how you came riding in and shot those polecats all to hell, all by yourself. You are innocent of any wrongdoing there. Hero even. But the name Porter Rockwell and innocent, those two don’t go hand in hand with anybody but you Mormons. No, Shaw and Spicer, I’m sure they want to see you hang and they’ll find any reason to do it.”

  Porter frowned.

  Bill clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about right now though. Get some sleep tonight and worry about it in the morning.”

  30. Pain and Loss

  They left that next morning with their pockets lightened by a good sum to pay Bill for the flatboat. It was a lot more than they would have liked, but Porter insisted they didn’t want to make an enemy of Bill Granstaff.

  They took a shortcut and ended up in Crescent Junction by nightfall and had a fire that they sat around, but spoke little. In the morning, Redbone and Kimama bid them farewell and rode off to meet up with their clan. That left the five of them including Mala Cosa who still refused to eat. He was barely conscious as they rode along toward Ferry-Town and twice he nearly slumped and fell off the mule.

  “He looks like he is gonna die,” said Quincy.

  “Well, I can’t make him eat,” grumbled Porter.

  “We need him to stay alive when we bring him before a judge,” said Roxy.

  “I know, but I can’t make him eat.”

  “Well, maybe we could ask him nicely,” suggested Emily.

  “You do it, I’m done with him,” said Porter.

  They stopped beside the Green River, waiting for the ferry. Emily spoke softly to Mala Cosa, urging him to drink from a canteen.

  He was unresponsive.

  “He can’t even hold it. Maybe if I—”

  “No. He stays bound. Tip the water for him if you want, but he is not to be released or loosened or anything. Got it?” Porter said sternly.

  Emily murmured that she had heard.

  The ferry reached them and they boarded. Everyone was dismounted except for Mala Cosa who didn’t appear to be awake.

  “Where do you suppose, we’ll see Shaw next?” asked Roxy.

  “Hard to say. He is gonna be somewhere he’ll think he can get the drop on me. Could be right here in Ferry-Town or maybe Price, maybe right as I ride back into Spanish Fork Canyon on my way north and home.”

  Mala Cosa was mumbling and Emily again held the canteen up for him.

  His dry lips hardly took any water and he leaned forward in the saddle getting into a better position for more.

  Emily stole a glance at the others as they stood, speaking against the rail. She leaned in to hold the canteen as high as she could for him.

  Like a striking serpent, Mala Cosa sprung at the girl and was off the saddle. He had his bound hands over her neck and pressed against her throat, strangling her.

  Her face turned blue and the fight was already out of her.

  Porter realized what was happening, drew his six-gun and struggled to get around the horses to reach them. Roxy and Quincy did the same.

  Mala Cosa swung the girl in front of himself, using her as shield. He knew Porter was a good enough marksman he would take a head shot. But he wouldn’t if he feared he might hit the girl.

  “Let her go!”

  Mala Cosa grinned, his devilish broken teeth and his black eyes shined like obsidian. “I will not go to the white man’s jail. I take her with me.” He stepped back to jump into the river.

  Porter shot him in the head, just as he leapt backward, his hands and bindings still wrapped about Emily’s throat. They plunged into the dark brown waters and vanished.

  Roxy screamed. Porter tossed his gun to Quincy and dove into the torrent.

  He was swept away downstream but continually dove down again and again, searching for Emily. Nearing the bend in the river, he too disappeared from view.

  Before the ferry even reached the shoreline, Roxy and Quincy were racing downstream after Porter. Almost a mile downstream, he dragged himself out of the river, without Emily.

  “I couldn’t—I couldn’t find her.” He sagged onto the bank in a heap, coughing up river water.

  “Stay with him,” said Quincy. He raced farther downstream until he too disappeared around a rocky bend.

  “I can’t believe I let that happen,” Porter said. “I thought that old bastard was almost dead.”

  “It’s not your fault. You tried.” Roxy wiped away the tears herself. She looked downstream hoping for Quincy to return with the girl but hope seemed impossible.

  Quincy came riding back alone. All he could do was shake his head.

  They sat beside the river a long time. When dusk came, they finally rode into Ferry-Town and Porter went straight for the saloon.

  Epilogue:

  Porter called for a drink, the barkeep put down a tumbler, but Port took the bottle and guzzled it down in an instant.

  “Porter! You can’t! That won’t help anything. It won’t bring her back!”

  “Then it won’t matter if I have another!” he roared.

  Roxy made to argue, but Quincy held her back. “Let him deal with it his own way. As a matter of fact, I need to join him. I was beginning to like that little blonde.”

  A second bottle later, Porter was at least sitting at the table. The oil lamps cast long, dark shadows on his face, giving a sinister dark edge to his countenance. He called for a third bottle, slurring the words.

  Roxy and Quincy sat at the table next to him, each lost in their own somber thoughts.

  “Well, look at this,” said a familiar voice. Shaw stood in the doorway, grinning. “Who would have thought it could be this easy?”

  Quincy and Roxy made to draw their guns, but Shaw’s posse was all around them. Six guns pointed at them. “Take them all into custody,” he said.

  Porter stared up with crazed eyes.

  “I’ve got you now, Porter Rockwell. I’ve got all the evidence I need. Bodies of those innocent men you killed in the desert. Witnesses for a mutilated little Indian girl and where is the girl you kidnapped? Did she meet the same fate?”

  Mae Taggart stormed into the saloon. “Where is my daughter? She’ll tell you that Mr. Rockwell did not kidnap her!” She saw Rockwell sitting at the table, with three bottles beside him. “Where is Emily? Is she all right?”

  Porter just looked at her with sad silent eyes.

  “Where is she?” She sobbed, then screamed. “Where is she? Where is my daughter?”

  “Stay back, Ms. Taggart. He is a thoroughly dangerous man. You gonna draw on me, Porter?”

  Porter began to stand. He tipped a little to one side as if he were aboard a sailing ship. His hand slowly reached for his gun, then the crazed look in his eye vanished and he fell forward on his face, hitting the floor.

  “Seems like that’s all the confession I need,” said Shaw. He put handcuffs on the unconscious Porter. “He is gonna hang this time!”

  The End

  but

  Porter rides again in

  You Only Hang Once

  Coming Soon

  Acknowledgments

  ***

  Thanks to my wife Melissa Adrina West, and Jana S. Brown, Jay Bronson, Erin West, John Olsen, Nathan Shumate, Kevin Mollett, Dave Butler and the Space Balrogs, and plenty of others that need to forgive me for not naming them here. Thank you all for your help.

  About the Author:

  David J. West writes dark fantasy and weird westerns because the voices in his head won’t quiet until someone else can hear them. He is a great fan of sword & sorcery, ghosts and lost ruins, so of course he lives in Utah in with his wife and children.

  You can visit h
im online at:

  http://www.kingdavidjwest.com/

  https://twitter.com/David_JWest

  http://david-j-west.tumblr.com/

  Also by David J. West

  Dark Trails Saga

  Six-Gun Serenade

  Cold Slither

  Whispers Out of the Dust

  Fangs of the Dragon

  SCAVENGERS

  And Coming Soon

  You Only Hang Once

  Lit Pulp Collection

  Weird Tales of Horror

  The Mad Song: and other Tales of Sword & Sorcery

  Gods in Darkness

  Whispers of the Goddess

  The Hand of Fate

  Eldritch Collection

  Space Eldritch

  Space Eldritch 2: The Haunted Stars

  Redneck Eldritch

  Heroes of the Fallen Saga

  Heroes of the Fallen

  Bless the Child

  Blood of Our Fathers (forthcoming)

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