The Shadow Town (An Evan Ryder Weird Western)

by J. W. Bradley

  “Ah Franklin, if I ever get too tired your group’s meddling, I’ll make it a point to give you something more spirited to worry about.”

  Nina smiled at Ryder’s brave talk but only for a moment because next he said, “Nina, if you had tried, you could have heard us from the kitchen. Now get off the floor and tell Carter we’ll be along shortly.”

  Stifling a giggle, she shot up and rushed to comply.

  4

  My new horse, Anna was a Mustang, chocolate brown with a bright white face. I broke her myself two years ago. My father, Blaine Ryder had found her galloping around the edge of our land, dazed and confused. There had been a thunderstorm of monstrous strength the night before. After he had her corralled, he rode the perimeter and found three more horses under a big lightning burnt oak tree. Only these ones were dead, their legs shooting straight in the air and their eyes blown out of their sockets. Like I said, it was a mean storm.

  Now at the time, Anna was as skittish as a mongoose in a rattlesnake cage or vice versa. Wild eyed and blowing air out of her lips in a way that sounded like she was talking in a strange language, but when Nina and I came to meet her, the girl laughed so hard and looked so happy, I felt inclined to make the horse a personal project and member of the family. It had been the right decision. Never had I seen a horse go from half asleep to full gallop in the blink of an eye. All it took was me or Nina to scream out the word Bam! What can I say? I must be drawn to weird and mysterious things.

  Take, for example, our current endeavor. It was early the next morning, I was wearing my new grey suit, just in from New York, complete with a fashionable bowler hat that no one seemed to be appreciating, and the four of us were riding across the land; Michael Roy, Franklin Hoot, and Nina on her blonde stallion named Dante, after the writer. We were heading for the little town of Krotan’s Brook, nestled deep in the heart of the northern Colorado badlands. It was an out of the way place to begin with but now there’d been no word from it for some time. During the ride, I had scoured my memories in search of a reference to anyone named Krotan and had come up disappointingly empty for such an unusual name.

  As we crossed the country under a blue sky and over a scrubland creased by small streams and gullies, Franklin Hoot was giving us the back story. “His name was Lucas Henry and we sent him down from Massachusetts to Krotan’s Brook by way of the Rio Grande. One of our brightest inspectors, a doctor as well, he was tasked with investigating some strange happenings at the local whore house.”

  “I’m sure there’s lots of strange happenings in one of those places if the money’s right.” I ventured.

  “I wouldn’t know Mr. Ryder but here is what we do know. The town banker, a rather upstanding fellow, a regular family man, supposedly spent a night there then came home to kill his wife and three young sons, and in a bad way.”

  I admit that I was taken aback at this revelation, but still, I knew that every now and then a man or woman might go bat shit crazy for no obvious reason. “All right, that is unusual but maybe he was just due for a-.”

  Michael Roy snorted from where he rode behind us, “A regular nutter ye think?”

  “Perhaps. But I know you’re about to tell me why he wasn’t a ‘nutter’ or maybe that your man, this Lucas Henry, never came back.”

  “Precisely.” Hoot pulled out his water skin and took a long pull, his face was drawn and maybe a bit sad. “Except it was not that Inspector Henry never came back, it was because of the telegram he sent.”

  Ah, there it was, that peculiar feeling in my guts I had not experienced since the last time I crossed paths with this group. Like a cool, scentless breeze that you feel though it’s not really there or that urge that makes you hurry just a bit to get out of a dark room. Circumstances of the unusual sort now threatened to ensue.

  “Henry wrote that the banker had contracted rabies from a pine squirrel and that it had finally overcome him that early morning.”

  “That’s possible, but highly unlikely, since an animal as small as a pine squirrel rarely lives long enough with rabies to infect a person.” I said.

  “That so?” The Irishman asked, unnecessarily punctuating the question with an explosive spitting of tobacco.

  “Generally.”

  “Well, that is not what has led to this secondary investigation of ours, regardless.” Hoot squinted up the trail and kept his eyes centered between the Junipers lining its edges.

  I continued for him. “He’s staying on. Lucas Henry told you he’s planning on remaining in Krotan’s Brook for a spell, indefinitely maybe. And like the banker, he’s just not the type for that kind of thing.”

  “I can see why the leadership was interested in you. You are right, that is precisely what has happened Mr. Ryder. Henry was very happy doing what he was doing. A man does not change the course of his life like that, overnight.”

  I nodded in agreement, but then glanced over to check on Nina and thought maybe that wasn’t entirely true. The girl rode along, smiling as she surveyed the picturesque Colorado scenery, at least outwardly paying our conversation no heed. Six years ago I went up a mountain in Texas and came down the next day a different man. I was no longer solely interested in making my own reckless way in the world, I had someone else to think about.

  “How long ago did the telegraph arrive?” I asked.

  “Fourteen days, far too long. But our group has been spread thin, the country has begun evolving and expanding at an unprecedented pace, making things…all a bit closer.”

  “In Boston, over twenty five years ago, they set up a rudimentary telephone exchange. I calculate in a few more years someone from there will be able to talk to a person in California on such a thing.” I said.

  “My fellow indigenous people have finally conceded the lands to the railroad tycoons. I would have to assume you are right. Unfortunately Krotan’s Brook has no such luxuries, so here we are.”

  “It’s beautiful here.” Nina spoke for the first time in almost an hour. “I can see snow on that mountaintop!” She was pointing to our east, at the Southern Rocky Mountains.

  “Yes it is.” Hoot smiled disarmingly. “At least for now.”

  5

  Twenty minutes after the sun went down, Michael Roy was flat on his back, snoring, and making a sound like a maddened swarm of African bees. Hoot and I were forced to lean in close to each other as we sat by the fire and conversed.

  “Roy is a decent man underneath that rough appearance, but he has too many vices. I often think it’s the result of all the things we have seen.” Hoot explained.

  “I’ll reserve judgment Franklin, but he was rather quick to threaten a young girl’s life.”

  “Mr. Ryder, I will not insult you by suggesting you may be too close to Nina to see the truth of her existence.”

  I leaned back and watched as Nina approached from out of the woods her long beautiful hair was a mess of tangles, she was carrying the dangling bodies of three pine squirrels.

  “They’re small for sure Ryder, not a lot of blood for the rabies to burn through, they must go mad real quick.” She pulled open one of the squirrel’s mouths. “Big teeth though. They’d break the skin easy enough.” Then she looked up quickly. “Can we cook ‘em?”

  “Sure. Are you partial to roast squirrel Franklin?”

  The Indian’s eyes watched me steadily, his large, brown corneas were dark and unreadable in the firelight. “That sounds delicious Nina, thank you.”

  As we prepared our bedrolls, we watched a pair of owls take flight from a hole near the top of a rotted tree, gliding through the darkness and into the night in search of prey. It was a satisfying sight, but not as exhilarating in the current company as it could have been. Sometimes on the trail together, Nina and I would lay on opposite sides of the fire and maybe play word games, count the stars or discuss what book she was reading, but tonight, her thoughts were on more somber things.

  “Ryder, do you trust these men?” she whispered

  “Not comp
letely, but I believe Franklin Hoot to be a good man.” The stars above were bright and plentiful, so I took a moment to enjoy their beauty while I composed what I would say next. “But sometimes even good men can be dangerous when the stakes are high enough.”

  “He seems very serious, like you get sometimes, but with him it’s the way he is all the time I think,” she said.

  “He lost his brother years ago…”

  “My mother.”

  I jumped a bit where I lay. Maybe it was a mistake but I had never disclosed to Nina the full measure of how we came together. Evidently she had been an astute student these past few years, and had pieced together, through various conversations and observations, more about that fateful night than I ever imagined. “Yes, it was. But that has nothing to do with you.”

  “Does he believe that?”

  “Of course,” I answered, mostly sure of what I said. “He’s a fair minded man, don’t worry.”

  “He’s listening,” Nina whispered, quieter still.

  “Franklin?”

  “No.”

  My eyes flicked to where Michael Roy lay and I was just in time to see the big Irishman’s own eyes snap shut. “I don’t think that man trusts anyone Nina.”

  “The duplicity in one’s in own heart dictates how much trust is given others. You told me that once Ryder.”

  “It does sound like a brilliant observation.”

  She giggled a bit. “Okay, I have another, this is one of Carter Maynes’ favorites: Good Lord Ryder, you have quite the opinion of yourself.”

  “Sounds like him. Now get some shut eye funny girl. We’ve got a lot more riding to do tomorrow.”

  7

  It was late into the next day when we came to a crossroads and Franklin Hoot confirmed my suspicions by saying we were drawing close to Krotan’s Brook.

  “Straight ahead is the Capital, normally we would go southeast from here on the road but see how few the tracks are, heading down toward the town?”

  I considered a few explanations for this and the most likely seemed to be that Krotan’s Brook was on its way to becoming a ghost town even before whatever was going on there now. “Not exactly Colorado’s center of commerce it seems.” I guided Anna down the road a bit. There were a few tracks, both wagon and horse but not many. And it hadn’t rained here in a week at least, judging by the crispy look of the vegetation.

  “I think it best if we head in through the scrubland as the crow flies, stay off the road. It might be under watch,” Hoot said.

  Watched. I wondered who he might be thinking was watching the road. Did he know more about what we were riding into than the two inspectors were letting on? I thought it most likely.

  “Seems prudent.” I rubbed my jaw thoughtfully, as if I didn’t already have a plan. “Why don’t you and Roy head off the road a ways and ride parallel to Nina and I, stay barely in sight.”

  Hoot nodded. “We can cover each other if there is an ambush.” He turned toward Michael Roy who was watching our exchange with his deep set eyes. “Sound good to you Michael?”

  In way of answering, the Irishman pulled a long Springfield rifle from its saddle holster and nodded. “I’ll be ready, I’m quite the shot with this.” He spurred the stocky horse under him and rode off ahead of his partner.

  Hoot grimaced before saying, “It is probably good he’s a man of few words, I do not think I would like what he had to say. Perhaps it would be best if our organization and Michael parted ways after this endeavor.”

  I watched the rider’s back for a moment then turned to Hoot. “And how exactly does your group part ways with someone Franklin?”

  When Hoot’s grin broke out on his tan face, it was with a splash of brilliant white teeth beneath a pair of twinkling, mischievous eyes. “Mr. Ryder, that is a good question! I do not know the answer.” Then his smile died like the last gasp of a setting sun. “I think most leave like my brother Benjamin did, fighting the enemy of man.” I was thankful he did not look toward Nina after that last remark.

  I changed the subject. “And in Krotan’s Brook? Will we find this enemy?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. Lucas Hendry was the best of us, he is beaten or he would have come home.” Hoot tugged the reigns of his nameless filly and followed after Roy.

  Nina was watching the Indian with a peculiar look. “I wish we were home Ryder, at the ranch.”

  I suddenly felt downright sick about Nina being with me out here. But we had never been apart unless she was being watched over by my family. And worse, I had been a step behind when the W.E.r.d. agents came for us, that scared me more than I’d ever admit.

  “I don’t like that look on your face. I didn’t mean it. I want to do this and get these bastards off our jackasses once and for all.” She was rallying.

  “Nina, That didn’t sound right, but it’s nice you tried to refrain from cursing. Sometimes you can just call an ass an ass.”

  We moved down the road, after a mile the plant life grew taller. Cottonwoods and Joshua trees rose up to meet us. Every few minutes I caught sight of the two men through the trees, they were having a real time of it trying to keep up while maneuvering their mounts in the thickening woods.

  “Slow down a bit.” I whispered, but I suddenly pulled up on Anna’s reigns and came to a full stop. The tracks, sparse to begin with, were completely gone. I continued to study the trail, making sense of what had caught my eye. Even in the evening’s lengthening shadows, brush lines, most likely made with a tree branch, were easily visible.

  “Damn.” I muttered. “Nina, can you see the other men?”

  “Plain as day.”

  While I wasn’t entirely surprised by this development, the first material evidence of something seriously amiss in Krotan’s Brook, never the less, unnerved me.

  “Let’s go a little further.” The trees and bushes crowded the road at our sides now and even with Nina’s exceptional eyes she was having a hard time keeping the men in sight. I was considering signaling Hoot back to the road when an oddly angled branch caught my eye. As we drew abreast of it, I recognized the signs of where something large had crashed off the road. Green myrtle branches had been broken in various places, the raw splintered wood obvious because of its lighter color where something had ploughed through.

  “I see a wagon or something akin to it back there,” Nina said.

  “I do too. We need to get the others back here, with darkness minutes away, it wouldn’t do for us to be too far apart. Let’s see, Hoot is a Navajo and a bird almost exclusive the great mesa region would be...I’ll try a Black Billed Magpie.” But before I could even ready my lips, Nina’s mouth produced the bird’s call with uncanny perfection.

  “Splendid representation.”

  “Thank you Ryder.”

  There was an answering cry, not quite as faithful, from the woods ahead.

  I dismounted and approached the tree line. There was indeed a wagon in the woods. It was overturned and its contents scattered about on the deeply shadowed forest floor.

  I was about to investigate further when Franklin Hoot materialized from the dark woods just beyond the wagon. He motioned me over.

  “Michael is leading the horses back to the road. I thought I would angle in from this direction.”

  “See anything?” I asked him.

  “Nothing unusual. I had to convince Michael not to shoot a big armadillo we flushed out. He likes them boiled with red potatoes.”

  “I hope you’re joking.”

  Hoot only shrugged.

  “The road’s been swept clean, not a very subtle way to hide something, but now we have to consider this is bigger than just your man Henry.”

  Hoot and I looked through the scattered contents of the overturned wagon and he said, “Maybe it was highwaymen, looking for an easy mark?”

  “Normally I’d agree.” Then I held up a leather satchel for Hoot to see inside. “There’s a money roll and a little gold bracelet. Robbers wouldn’t leave that. No, this is mo
re about keeping what’s going on in Krotan’s Brook a secret.”

  Nina slipped up beside us, a slim, fluid shadow, almost imperceptible in the darkness. “Ryder, can I have a look?”

  The moonlight through the branches above wasn’t really enough light for Hoot or I to see well but I knew Nina could probably still spot an ant crawling through the undergrowth from the tree tops. “A quick inspection. There’s no corpses, but look for a blood trail or something I might have missed.”

  Her large eyes widened even more and I watched her nose twitch with excitement. “Sure thing Ryder!”

  Hoot and I stepped back and I glanced over at him surreptitiously. He had an intense and hungry look on his face as he watched Nina work. I knew this kind of thing was what his group had in mind for her as a way of life, working on their little mysterious endeavors. I wasn’t ready for that.

  After a time, Nina came up to us with a dark, glass bottle in her hand. I took it from her and detected the pungent odor of dried whiskey wafting from the spout. “Yes?”

  “Well, it doesn’t smell like the rest.”

  “Show me where you found it.”

  She led me over to the edge of where the wagon’s contents were spilled.

  “It was lying against this tree.”

  I surveyed the immediate area and picked up the tiny crumpled butt of a hand rolled cheroot. “This was smoked here.” I pushed a palmetto branch aside and examined the earthen floor beneath. “Curious.”

  “What are you thinking?” Hoot had come up behind us, he could move nearly as quiet as Nina.

  “I think that the secretive, furtive actions of unknown persons in Krotan’s Brook do not include things like sitting by a tree smoking a poor man’s tobacco and drinking a full bottle of whisky before, during or after a bushwhacking. Someone was here after the attack took place, most likely the town drunkard, rummaging for provisions.”

  “That is a bit of a reach, Mr. Ryder.” Hoot countered.