Murder in Mushroom Valley

by Scotty V Casper

  “Don’t kill the squaw,” Victorio said. “These great warriors,” he said, pointing to the Apaches gathered around him, “might like to have her to warm their blankets as well.”

  “Dontcha worry none, chief. I’ll deliver her to ya boys purty much in one piece. She might be ganted up some by then, but she’ll still be kickin’.”

  Victorio’s face turned livid, and he thumbed his tomahawk hanging at his side. He was planning on disposing of Seth sometime in the near future, but for some indiscernible reason, he chose to hold off on it. Victorio and his dozen followers had been raiding down near Arivaca, Arizona, when his teenage son was set upon by three desert warthogs. Seth had been at hand, and he had drawn his pistol with lightning speed, killing the hogs in a barrage of gunfire. After that, Victorio had been beholden to him, and he couldn’t hardly refuse when Seth asked to join his raiding party. But Seth’s welcome had rapidly run out, and Victorio decided he must rid himself of the white man before long. Victorio had confided in some of his fellow Apaches in the raiding party that Seth had two heads, and both of them were ugly. They had all laughed uproariously over that.

  The Apaches flooded into the Murphy wagon and packed away those items that would be useful to them. Then they put halters on the two mules and proceeded to set fire to the wagon. Apaches love setting fire to those items belonging to white people.

  “Hey there, ya heathens, forget yer danged fir this time. I want to take this little lady under this here wagon into the shade. Oh, and leave me a couple of them thar blankets.”

  The Apaches complied and then disappeared over a nearby ridge. A scorpion crept along in the shade of a Mormon Tea plant, but in the end decided to take refuge in a nearby patch of Russian thistle. Shortly thereafter, a pronghorn antelope raced through a stand of juniper and disappeared into a maze of the Mushroom Valley’s hoodoos. The Apaches and Seth never took the time to look over the mystical Mushroom Valley because their attention had been solidly affixed to their evil deeds.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Amanda stood proud and tall and confronted Seth. She set her chin firm and decided not to let Seth take advantage of her without paying for it dearly. She resolved to kick, bite, punch, and gouge with abandon. She figured the hideous little cretin might get his way with her, but when all was said and done, he’d look like he’d been locked in a closet with a wildcat. But even better, if she could get to the .12 gauge Greener stowed under the seat in the Murphy wagon, she would use it to cut him in half, and the world would be a better place.

  During all this time, Seth was giving her the evil eye. She was slender and lovely, rounded out in the places where a woman should be. Her eyes were light green, her hair was a golden blonde, and her face was near perfect and Grecian. Seth was close to slobbering as he looked her over.

  “Seth,” she said, “before we climb under this wagon, why don’t we have a nice lunch and some water. I packed a delicious meal for Michael before we left Orangeville. I’m famished, aren’t you?”

  “Where is this lunch?”

  “Under the seat on the wagon. I’ll get it.”

  “Sounds good, little lady. I wouldn’t mind havin’ a bite afore we git down to ’er. I need somethin’ to take the pleats outa my stomach. I ain’t et since yesterdee mornin’.” He walked over, lifted the seat on the wagon, and found the Greener—and no lunch. He pointed the shotgun straight at her face, and it seemed to her like she was looking into a pair of side-by-side railway tunnels. There is nothing more feared by fighting men or women than a Greener. If Seth pulled the trigger, her head would simply disappear in a gout of brains, bone, and bloody mist. Amanda’s eyes widened and she blanched. She fully expected her time on Earth was coming to a screeching halt. Her insides clinched in a spasm of fear.

  Seth lowered the Greener. If he killed her, there would be no romp under the wagon with her, and he wouldn’t be able to turn her over to Victorio. And it just wasn’t a good idea to cross Victorio. “So what was ya gonna do with this here Greener?” he asked as he gagged and hawked up more phlegm.

  “I was going to blow your damned head off,” she declared, setting her jaw firmly. She was quite embarrassed making such a statement. It certainly wasn’t ladylike, but under the circumstances, she figured her Creator would forgive her. After all, Seth was intent on molesting and killing her, and she did indeed entertain the idea of blowing his head clean off. So there it was—unvarnished, primal, raw. Actually, she was kind of proud of herself.

  Seth laughed, “Well, ain’t ya just the little spitfire. I’m gonna have a high ol’ time tamin’ ya.” Then he hauled off and slapped her. “Shuck them glad rags and be damn quick ’bout ’er. I’m not a-tall pleased with ya right now, and I just might git notional ’bout usin’ this here Greener on ya. Now shuck ’em!”

  Suddenly, a voice came to them, seemingly out of the netherworld. “You shuck ’em—the pistols, that is—that one in your holster and that hideout gun tucked in your waistband, and, as you put it, ‘ be quick about it .’ ” The man’s basso profundo voice broached no nonsense, a voice used to command. The stranger had come upon them undetected because he had been walking in sand. He was dressed all in black with a red bandanna knotted about his throat, and he was wearing a Boss of the Plains Stetson, a low-crowned hat in black with a crease in the crown. The man who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere stood slightly over six feet tall and was narrow at the hips and wide in the shoulders. But his most notable feature was his blond hair hanging down to his collar. His good looks shone through, even though he was covered in trail flour.

  “Who are ya?” Seth asked.

  “I’m the tooth fairy, and I am here to knock out what teeth you have left.”

  “Now let’s be reasonable, ol’ Hoss. Ya ain’t here to knock out my teeth, so what do ya want?”

  “I already said it. I want you to shuck your weapons. Do you have a learning impediment or what?”

  “A learnin’ imp—what is that?”

  “Never mind that. I haven’t got all day to try and teach you a new word. Just drop your weapons.”

  Seth stepped back from Amanda and faced up with the tall stranger. The man just stood there with his pistol undrawn. Seth moved his hand down to his pistol and pulled the leather thong off the hammer, freeing up the weapon for action. “What’s yer name, stranger?”

  “Why do you need to know?”

  “I always like knowin’ who I’m ’bout to kill,” Seth said, hocking up some phlegm.

  Bryan shook his head in wonderment. “You know, I plainly see two traits that stand out about you.”

  “Traits? What’s that mean?” Seth asked, clearing his throat again.

  “I don’t propose to help you understand the word ‘trait’ because I suspect all you have betwixt your big ears is adobe mud. Let’s just say that you are not only ugly, but you are stupid, too.”

  At that point, Amanda decided she should intervene. “There’s no need for further bloodshed here. Seth, why don’t you just ride away . . . oh, and never come near me again.” Having said that, she punched him right in the nose. “And there is a little going away present for you, you horrid pig,” she said.

  Seth was caught unprepared for the punch, and it put him flat on his back. He grabbed hold of his nose and whined about it for a few moments. Then he jumped to his feet. “You broke my nose,” he screamed as he charged toward Amanda, bent on revenge.

  The tall stranger laughed about the unexpected punch until he gagged, but he cut it short when Seth charged toward Amanda. “Hold it right there. What you’re planning isn’t a good idea.”

  Seth stopped. “Okay, I’ll stop, fer now. But after I kill you, I’m gonna make her wish she’d never heard the name ‘Seth’.”

  He faced the towering intruder again. “What’s yer name? I do hate killin’ a man when I don’t know his name.”

  The tall stranger cut his eyes over to Amanda and then brought them back to Seth. It’s never a good idea to take one’s ey
es off a snake for any length of time. “Ma’am, I’m sorry about this heathen’s manners. But I’m about to teach him it ain’t nice calling a lady names.”

  “Mister, even though he is a reprehensible creature, I don’t want him killed. Just let him ride off.”

  “Ma’am, it’s not a good notion to let a man like this live, but I’ll honor your request. How about it, ugly? Do you want to just ride away?”

  “No, I’m gonna kill ya fer stickin’ yer nose in my business. Now what’s yer damned name?”

  “My name is Bryan Kohler, and I hail from Midway, Utah, a small community near Heber, Utah. They call me Kid Utah, but I don’t hold to that name. I just simply like being called by my Christian name.”

  Seth blanched a little. “Yer Kid Utah?”

  “None other.”

  Seth shrugged. “Well, Kid Utah, it don’t make no never mind ta me who ya are. Besides, I heard yer not all that fast with a smoke pole, that yer just a back shooter.”

  “There’s only one way to find out, and that’s by unlimbering that six-shooter hanging on your hip.”

  That was it. Seth grabbed for his six-gun, and his draw was amazingly fast. Even so, before he could get his pistol lined up on Bryan, he saw a tiny, little black hole. A bright light winked from it, and then he felt something slam into his chest with unbelievable force. He knew he had been shot and that it was mortal, but he still wanted to take Bryan with him. So he tried to lift his pistol and shoot Bryan, but he didn’t have the strength to hoist it. The pistol slipped from his deadened fingers, and he plopped to the sand like an armload of wet laundry.

  Seth no more than hit the ground and Amanda was on Bryan like a wildcat. First, she slapped his face and then tried to claw it, but he caught both of her arms and ended that nonsense. Even with her arms made immobile, she tried to kick him in his manly parts with her knee. “Stop it, stop it,” he shouted. “Are you on loco weed or what?” he huffed in exasperation. “I was a might previous in thinking you are a gentlewoman. Now stop it. In case you didn’t notice, I just saved you from being molested and killed.”

  “That’s true,” Amanda confessed, “but you didn’t need to kill Seth, even if he was just a horrid man. I am Mormon, and we don’t hold to murder.”

  He let loose of her arms and pushed her back to get away from her kicking feet and clawing nails. “I didn’t need to kill him? Now if that don’t beat all. Did you not see that he drew his pistol and was fixin’ to kill me?”

  “So couldn’t you have done something else to stop him—kick or punch him or something?”

  “Kick or punch him? If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never begin to figure out you women. Kick or punch him, you say? Were you not aware that there was twenty feet between us?”

  “Well, maybe so, but I still think you could have done something to avoid killing him.”

  “You know, ma’am, you’re purtier than a bay pony with three white feet, but it’s obvious to me that you ain’t got a lick of sense.”

  “Oh, you think so,” she said, taking one last kick at him.

  He avoided the kick and laughed, and that infuriated her even more. “Ma’am, uh, what’s your name anyway?”

  “Amanda.”

  “Amanda, if you can control yourself for a moment, we need to talk and then get out of here. In case you haven’t noticed, there are a dozen Apaches around here.”

  “So, talk.”

  “What happened here? Who is this dead feller?” he asked, pointing to Michael.

  “Apaches killed him, shot him with an arrow,” she said, tearing up a little. “They were such beastly looking creatures, and this heathen here was with them. He seemed the worst of the lot,” she said, pointing to Seth.

  “I ran into those Apaches a while back. It was a good thing I was able to duck into an arroyo, or I’d a lost my hair. Where were they going?”

  “Seth sent them away so he could have his way with me in privacy. He told them to camp outside Hanksville, and after he’d had his fun with me, he’d bring me along and turn me over to them so they, in turn, could enjoy me and then kill me.”

  “Amanda, you can’t imagine how lucky you are I happened along to save you from those Apaches. The things they do to captive women, well, it is unspeakable. Victorio is a great Apache chief. He usually hangs out in Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas territories and two states down in Mexico—Sonora and Chihuahua. I don’t know why he is raiding up here in Utah; things must have gotten too hot for him down in the Southwest. He is a brilliant war tactician and absolutely ruthless. He is also known as Apache Wolf and He Who Checks His Horse.”

  “How come you know so much about him?” Amanda asked.

  “I was once a captive of Victorio and his band of heathens down in Sonora, Mexico. That’s the closest I’ve ever come to getting my hair lifted. I don’t know whether you know this, but he is the leader of both the Mescaleros and the Mimbrenos, and every bit as notorious as his counterpart, Cochise.”

  “Well, thank you for the lesson on Apaches and for liberating me from that horrid man, but that still doesn’t change the fact that you are yourself a coarse and murderous man.”

  “Amanda, I can call you by your first name, can’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  “Amanda, the West is an untamed frontier, and at times, a man has to kill or be killed. Yes, I’ve killed men—and plenty of them—but I have never killed a man who didn’t deserve it.”

  “Bryan,” she shook her head in perplexity, “oh my land, you are simply beastly.”

  “Beastly or not, you are stuck with me until I can deliver you to Hanksville. That’s where you are going, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but now that my Michael is gone, I no longer want to go to Hanksville to take a teaching position. I want to go back home to Provo.”

  Bryan shook his head, then lit up a Quirly. “No, I am not taking you back to Provo. I intend on following those Apaches to see if I can thin them out a mite. Just think of the lives and homesteads I will save. They need to be killed off or pushed back down into Arizona or New Mexico—their native land. No, you are either going to Hanksville with me, or you can return to Provo all by your lonesome.”

  “Oh, you! You would let me travel back to Provo all by myself?”

  “Gladly, Amanda. You might have a short memory, but I don’t. If you’ll recall, you have just recently slapped me and tried to claw and kick me.”

  “I’m sorry, now won’t you take me back to Provo?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, I never. Okay, okay, I’ll accompany you to Hanksville and try to catch a stagecoach back to Provo. But if we travel together, you are to understand one thing—you are not to attempt to take any liberties with me.”

  Bryan laughed until he gagged. “Believe me, Amanda, taking liberties with the likes of you is the furthest thing from my mind,” he said. “Now let’s dig a hole and bury your late husband.”

  That made her mad but she managed to say, “Yes, yes, my beloved Michael, we need to do that. But what about this other man?” she asked, pointing to Seth.

  “What about him? The varmints can have him for all I care.”

  “I suppose that’s the way of it, but it seems so . . . awful.”

  “Awful or not, I’ll not bury him. Now do you have a shovel in that Murphy wagon?”

  “Yes, unless the Indians took it.”

  “No, an Apache has no use for a shovel. Let’s get it and dig and then get out of here before those Apaches take a notion to come back.”

  “What about my wagon and all my stuff?” she hissed, indignant that he hadn’t thought of it.

  “I considered that. We’ll send the livery people in Hanksville back to get it. Go pack up what you will need for a stay in Hanksville, and I’ll dig.”

  She went and looked in the wagon and gasped. “Those Apaches have taken half of my dresses,” she shouted.

  Bryan laughed. “Some of those bucks are going to be right cute wearing your dresses.”
<
br />   “Oh, you think it’s funny? I just spent a lot of money on those dresses to outfit myself for the teaching position in Hanksville.”

  “It’s funny all right,” Bryan said as he continued laughing. “Have you ever seen a buck in a dress?”

  “Is everything funny to you?”

  “I once saw a man shot square in the teeth with a Starr and Tranters .44. That wasn’t funny. If he’d lived through the experience, the dentist would have been hard put piecing his choppers back together.”

  Amanda shook her head, and her golden curls fluttered around her shoulders. “You enjoy speaking of such horrid things to shock me, don’t you?” she asked as she widened her eyes for an answer.

  “Yes, it’s fun because you are such a prissy little thing. But if you are so repulsed by my presence, why don’t you just start walking back toward Provo?”

  “I’d prefer not to walk, to be reduced to a shank’s mare, as they say.”

  “Okay then, go get your stuff and climb on this Cayuse behind me. And for pity sakes, shut up for a spell, will you?”

  Amanda packed up a few of her items—dresses, dainties, important photographs, and a little food the Apaches had overlooked—and then she approached Bryan’s horse.

  “Amanda, I caught this horse down on the Painted Desert in Arizona. He’s a wild mustang and a might temperamental, so don’t get near his teeth or hooves. Now I’m giving you fair warning! He’ll go all day on a little water and grass, but he likes kicking and biting—sort of like a woman I know,” he said, laughing.

  Amanda stomped her foot at that, but she got on the horse behind Bryan and soon found out she needed to wrap her arms around Bryan’s waist to keep from falling off. She hated doing that, but she didn’t have a choice. She didn’t want to fall off the horse.

  “That’s right, sweetness,” he said, chuckling at her discomfiture, “you hold on tight.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It was only ten miles to Hanksville, but Bryan and Amanda got caught by a rapidly fading sun and had to set up camp for the night. Bryan chose a campsite that butted up against several huge boulders that had sloughed off a steep ridge eons before. The boulders were the size of houses and provided good protection from enemies coming in from the rear. The sides of the boulders were protected by impenetrable undergrowth, so if enemies approached their camp, they would have to come in from the front, and there was no cover for three hundred yards.