The Rider of Phantom Canyon (5 page)

Dane, I love you so, my darling betrothed. Why did you forsake me, my love? Why won't you please forget this terrible quest for gold and return to me? I am heartbroken and miss you desperately. I don't need riches or treasures. I just need you.

Love,

Esmerelda

When Joshua finished reading this, he noticed he had a tear rolling down each cheek, and he thought again of Belle, the woman he loved so much who had been brutalized and murdered by the seven-foot-tall behemoth We Wiyake, Blood Feather, whom he had in turn hunted down and killed. He had pretty much come to terms now with the guilt he felt over Belle's death, but he knew he would never forget her totally and would always grieve. However, he did give himself permission to love again and essentially keep on living.

Within an hour, a rider came by, and Strongheart sent him to fetch the sheriff's posse and the coroner, or whoever
was coming to get the bodies. He would give a full report later, but for now, he prepared the bodies to be transported.

Then, he got back to his tracking in the immediate area where the footprints had dried in the mud. Strongheart remembered his friend Chris Colt had said to him that tracks always told a story, and you had to figure out what was going on in the person's mind or what instincts were going on in the animal's mind you were tracking. This could help you assemble a trail when tracks disappeared or were covered up for a distance.

*   *   *

Ben Shaffer was the current sheriff of Fremont County, Colorado, which also included what would become Custer County in just a couple more years. He was very curious about all these reports about the creature of Phantom Canyon, so he accompanied his deputies to the scene of the shooting, arriving at mid-afternoon. By that time, Joshua had solved the mystery of this set of tracks.

Joshua gave a report about the gunfight to the sheriff and his deputies and handed them the envelope with the contents of his attackers' pockets. Joshua had proven his word was iron, so he would not be questioned further about the incident. The sheriff also promised Strongheart he would write the young lady, whose address was on her note.

Strongheart said, “Follow me, Sheriff. I'll show you what I have come up with.”

He took the sheriff to the tracks that had been discovered, and the lawman gave out a long, low whistle.

The sheriff said, “Those strides are way, way too long for any man, even one over seven foot tall. The man who left those footprints had to be nine or ten feet tall at least. Look at the size of those tracks. I could fit both my cowboy boots inside each barefoot track and still have room.”

Strongheart grinned, saying, “What do you suppose it is?”

The sheriff said, “I guess that monster people keep talking about.”

Joshua chuckled and said, “Sheriff, those tracks were made by a snowshoe hare running.”

“What?” the sheriff replied, astonished.

Strongheart said, “I have seen them in melting snow before. These were tracks made by a leaping hare. When it hit the soft mud, its whole backside would come down on the ground, and he would leap off his hind legs, which would be a little forward of the rump. After snow starts melting, or in this case when the hare hit on wet mud or clay, it made the front of the track look like it had toes like a giant human that is barefoot. Look at the tracks more closely and you will find where the smaller front feet hit as well. Hitting in soft mud or in snow, then especially when the snow melts a little, a running snowshoe hare will make tracks that, from their fannies and all four feet hitting, look like a giant human barefoot track with strides six or seven feet long.”

The sheriff literally got down on his hands and knees and studied the tracks and saw exactly what Strongheart suggested.

He stood, saying, “I'll be go to the dickens. You are absolutely right, Strongheart. But how did the horses or man get killed?”

Joshua said, “I didn't say anybody was wrong about the creature in Phantom Canyon. I was just showing you these tracks. I have only begun to search and I have eliminated one piece of evidence. That does not mean a giant creature does not exist like people are saying.”

The sheriff said, “Well, you're right about all that, Strongheart. What is it that your father's folks call them?”

Joshua said the Lakota call them by two different names. “One is
Iktomi
, which means ‘the Trickster.' The other name is
Chiye Tanka
, which means ‘Big Elder Brother.' The Utes have another name, and so do all the other nations.”

The lawman asked, “Do you believe they exist?”

Strongheart said, “Absolutely, but I am not certain they live in the Colorado area. More in the Northwest, I think, where there is much more rain, big trees, lots of deer—plus vegetation and lots of water. That seems to be important to these critters.”

“What kind of critter do you figure they are?”

Joshua replied, “Very large, gigantic really, very smart apes, almost as smart as humans. From those I have spoken to, they speak to each other in a way. They signal each other by hitting trees with rocks and hitting
rocks with rocks, with the number of hits giving a certain message. They have different howls and chatter, too. Two men I know who are Nez Perce in the Washington and Oregon area say they have seen them speaking to each other in a simple sign language and different crude speech patterns.”

“You sound pretty sure about them?” the sheriff said.

“Yep,” Joshua replied, “I am positive.”

“Why so positive?”

Strongheart said, “In our tribe we have no word for lying or untruth. It is something that would get you banished for life. Many tribes and nations are that way. I have had several red brothers swear to me stories about seeing them. They simply would not lie or be mistaken.”

Joshua broke a twig off a tree and picked something out of his teeth, then added, “I will keep heading north, looking for sign, and camping out along the way. If it is aggressive, it will come to me.”

The sheriff said, “Well, after killing a seven-foot mad killer and a giant grizzly, let alone a gang of gunmen, if anybody could take on a ten-foot-tall monster that kills horses and men, it would be you, Strongheart. Be careful.”

Joshua stuck out his hand and then whistled. Eagle trotted up to him, and he grabbed the saddle horn with his left hand and easily swung up into the saddle. He winked at the sheriff and rode north. One of the deputies waved at him and Joshua smiled back, nodding his head.

So many times he had been called “half-breed,”
“blanket nigger,” “red nigger,” and other derisive terms by men who could not pronounce or spell half the words in Joshua's vocabulary. However, the respect he had been shown here by folks from his town—even the simple act of a deputy waving as he left—it made up for a lot.

The tall Pinkerton agent rode northward at a slow walk, his eyes methodically sweeping back and forth in thirty-foot arcs directly in his path. Every minute or so, he would glance up into the trees and the cliffs that rose above him, his eyes scanning them for any trace of movement. Occasionally, he would look behind him and memorize his backtrail and watch for danger. In the mountains especially, trails do not always look the same going back on them as they do going forward, so Joshua would check to identify landmarks and see the view for when he made the return trip. At ten-minute intervals, he would simply stop and listen, and Eagle would always sense this and listen, too.

Strongheart slowly rode northward, carefully looking
for sign along both sides of the wagon trail. He would make camp under an overhang well before dark so that he would be able to walk all around and check where danger might come from. Based on the reports he had heard from the sheriff and statements he had read, he was certain that the creature would hunt him, if there was a creature. He had already proven that one piece of the puzzle had a very simple natural explanation. Maybe he would discover that the rest of the story could be easily explained. He knew that many people in the area were spooked, but he also knew that people, most people, seem to almost want a boogeyman in their lives. Maybe it made folks feel more alive. Joshua did not know if this creature was real or not, but he would find out soon. Eagle would alert him if something approached, and Joshua knew that no animal of any size would spook Eagle over a cliff.

Joshua kept this up for hours and by late afternoon found himself at a much-used overhang with several old campfires in it. He saw why the others stopped here, with the shelter of the overhang and towering cliff above as well as the stream near the road and good graze. Unsaddling Eagle, he let him graze along the roadside wearing a halter and long lead line. He found where the wagon and horses had gone over and scoured that area, on hands and knees at times. Then he returned to his campsite and started preparing it. He wanted a good rest, because he felt whatever it was might stalk or approach him during the night, and he wanted to be
ready. Joshua found the largest campfire and dug it out better and placed more rocks around the rim. He built a fire with available wood and made a bed of pine boughs. Strongheart made his dinner and a pot of coffee. It was still light out, but he wanted to get some rest while he could. The next day, he would find the remains of the horses that had gone off the cliff and would check them to see what predators had fed on them. He would look for older tracks, as well as bite and claw marks and the type of feeding done on the horse carcasses.

For now, however, he would see if he got stalked at night. He would have a comfortable bed and try to get some good sleep early, because he felt he might not rest much that night. Joshua had been through too much and been around too long now to worry about what might happen. He knew that most people would actually terrify themselves with the unknown. He did have an unsettled feeling simply because of the gossip and the fact that there were dead people. However, Joshua had been up against some incredibly dangerous, threatening adversaries before, and he felt confident he could handle whatever challenged him.

Satisfied he had looked carefully at every possible avenue of enemy or predator approach, Joshua lay down before it was fully dark out and carefully set his holster close by, so he could reach over and draw his gun or knife quickly and easily. He almost immediately fell asleep.

It was not that long after darkness fell that Joshua's
eyes came open. He froze, and he immediately took mental inventory of his surroundings. He looked at his campfire, which still had flames, so he knew he had not been asleep that long. His eyes searched the darkness, and then he caught sight of Eagle, who had stopped grazing. His head was up, ears forward, and his nose was testing the wind, facing south on the edge of the wagon road. Something was beyond Eagle in the darkness. Something was coming.

Joshua's right hand slowly went forward and grabbed the handle of his Peacemaker.

The predator could now see the glow of Joshua's campfire on the roof of the cliff overhang up ahead. Eagle would have been in view but was now gone. The predator moved forward slowly, eyes searching carefully, methodically for the big black-and-white horse he had already seen. This was the predator causing so much panic. This beast was what was responsible for the deaths of four horses and a man. The eyes kept scouring the road ahead as it moved closer to Strongheart's camp, which was now almost in view. The eyes were well over eight feet above the road.

The predator was very careful where each foot went, and what body part touched overhanging and roadside branches. Stealth had provided success in the past and was imperative now, because the man in the camp was a known quantity. He knew what he was doing and was presenting the biggest challenge for the predator yet.

Rounding a house-sized rock by the trail, he could now see the camp, the fire, the sleeping figure under the blanket. Slowly; he must be patient, very patient. Inching forward.

Movement! His eyes twisted up and to the right. A large figure was diving at him from the top of a boulder, and before he could react, a giant, muscular shoulder slammed into his torso and sinewy arms wrapped around him. They hit the ground with a thud, stunning him, and he opened his eyes, feeling the razor-sharp blade of Strongheart's big knife against his throat. His black mask was pulled off, and he saw his big black Thoroughbred horse bolting away, totally unnerved by Strongheart's surprise ambush. He was panicked, unable to breathe, and every part of his body hurt from the fall off the horse and Joshua's vicious tackle. Scared to death, tears filled his eyes.

“Mr. Strongheart, it's me, Scottie!” he yelled in sheer panic. “Don't kill me, please!”

Joshua stood and jerked the teenaged boy up by the lapels with one hand. He dragged him to the fire and shoved him into a seating position. Strongheart gave out a low whistle, and Eagle soon came trotting up from the shadows of the road north of the camp.

Scottie gingerly touched his face as a small trickle of blood ran from one nostril, and his left eye was swelling shut from the impact of Strongheart's diving tackle from the top of the rock. He started crying.

Strongheart poured a cup of coffee for himself and growled, “Hush up! You took on a man's task, so face the consequences like a man!”

Scottie was shocked into silence. The sobs ceased. Strongheart had always been so gentle with him, kind and understanding, and his sharp admonition shook Scottie into immediate compliance.

*   *   *

It was just before noon the next day when the Fremont County sheriff heard a knock on his office door and said, “Come in.”

Strongheart walked in holding Scottie by the scruff of the neck.

He plopped the teenaged boy down in a chair across from the sheriff and said, “Here is your monster, the phantom of Phantom Canyon. His big black Thoroughbred, Hero, which was a gift from me, is outside.”

Joshua thought back to that day several years earlier after he busted the Indian Ring and took the leader's big black Thoroughbred. Strongheart had led it to the home of Scottie Middleton and his aunt.

Joshua had said simply, “Mount up.”

The horse was so tall Scottie had trouble getting into the saddle, and his aunt had tears in her eyes.

Strongheart said, “A man needs a horse, not a pony. He's yours.”

Scottie told him he would name him Hero after Strongheart.

*   *   *

The lawman surveyed the frightened young man in front of him dressed in all black. Joshua tossed the boy's black mask down on the desk. The sheriff shook his head in wonder and looked at Strongheart with a grin. How powerful was gossip? With no words, this had just told him volumes. A teenaged boy dressed in black on a big black horse was what had spawned the legend of the ten-foot-tall monster in Phantom Canyon. People, in the dark, saw parts of the black Thoroughbred and probably Scottie's head and shoulders usually hidden in shadow. Tracks of the horse in the vegetation-covered but rocky terrain away from the well-worn road would be obscure at best.

Joshua explained, “I fed him last night and this morning, but we did not discuss much. I wanted to hear his full story along with you.”

The sheriff nodded and leaned forward, picking his teeth with a straw from the broom in the corner.

“Son, I wasn't sheriff then,” the sheriff said, “but I was a deputy. Didn't you used to clean up for us around here a coupla years ago?”

“Yes, sir,” Scottie said.

Scottie thought about what he had been through with Strongheart and felt ashamed. He had worked up his courage several years earlier and gone to the sheriff's office to meet the tall Pinkerton he had heard so much about. After meeting Joshua, the little boy reached into his trousers and pulled out a small leather bag. He opened
it, and marbles rolled out onto the desk. He reached in and pulled out some change and held it out.

He said, “Mr. Strongheart, I saved me up some money and have four dollars here. I want to hire you to find the man who stole my pony Johnny Boy and get him back for me. Ma and Pa gave me Johnny Boy last Christmas, and it is all I have from them. That gang a men burnt our house down when they kilt Pa.”

He had explained that his mother had died of consumption one year earlier, and now he lived with a very nice aunt and a very mean drunk for an uncle.

Impressed, Strongheart shook hands and agreed to hunt down the boy's pony and get it back for him if it was alive. The trail took him up to Denver and Aurora, but after some shooting, he recovered the pony Johnny Boy and brought him back.

Scottie thought about how impressed he was when Strongheart came to his house along the Arkansas River near the First Street Bridge. The Arkansas River was due west of Cañon City, where it churned its way through a rocky canyon for miles, dropped thousands of feet, and produced some of the largest and wildest whitewater rapids in the world. After it poured out of the Grand Canyon of the Arkansas, which was starting to be called the Royal Gorge, the whitewater rapids disappeared pretty much, but the water still rushed with more power than in most rivers in the West.

Seeing Scottie's place, Joshua rode up to the front of the modest home, dismounting, and Scottie rushed out of
the house, grinning broadly. A middle-aged woman with a kindly but haggard face walked out, and Strongheart doffed his hat to her. She was followed by a staggering brute of a man who obviously had been drinking.

As Strongheart walked up to the group, he said, “You have a fine young man here in this nephew of yours. My name is Joshua Strongheart,” and he tipped his hat brim again. This brought a big smile on her tired but pretty face.

Strongheart walked straight up to the uncle and said, “And you must be Dave.”

The man started to say something, but his words were shut off when Joshua suddenly reached out and grabbed him, spinning him around. He then seized the back of the man's unkempt hair, then grabbed the waistline of his homespun trousers in his other hand, jerked up, and gave it a twist. Now holding Dave up on his tiptoes, he started marching him toward the river in a rapid manner. Reaching the river's edge, Strongheart pitched the drunk into the cold, glacial-fed water. The man went under and came up ten yards downstream gasping and flailing at the water while his family watched from the house in horror. Strongheart jogged along the river's edge and waded into the water at a shallower spot.

Joshua repeated this, dunking the man underwater several times and giving him very stern warnings about his future treatment of Scottie. It turned out that Dave actually straightened out after that and got a job as a guard at Old Max, the state penitentiary in Cañon City.

It was some time later that Strongheart showed up with the big black Thoroughbred as a gift for Scottie, who in turn gave the pony Johnny Boy to a little neighbor boy who was very poor.

Scottie told the sheriff the story about his relationship with the tall, handsome Pinkerton, adding that he wanted to be a Pinkerton someday.

Joshua shook his head. “Young man, you say you want to be a Pinkerton, so you go out after dark in Phantom Canyon and dress in black, scaring people, and are very, very lucky you never got your head blown off!”

The sheriff chimed in, “Not only that—do you have any idea how much jail time you are facing and how many crimes I can charge you with?”

Without letting up, Joshua added, “You were responsible for a man's death, and the deaths of his horses as well. This is very serious business, young man.”

His now-changing voice breaking from low to high, Scottie started crying.

He said softly, “Yes, sir.”

Strongheart did not change expression, frightening Scottie with the stern look on his face.

He said, “All right, young man. The sheriff heard about our background—now what is the story on you following and scaring people half to death? Also, dry up the tears. You are playing a man's game; act like a man.”

“Yes, sir,” Scottie said. “Sir, I want to be a Pinkerton agent like you so bad. I wanted to learn how to be sneaky, like you can be. I started following people in
Phantom Canyon, riding Hero there, seeing if I could put the sneak on them without anybody seeing me. The more I got away with it, I guess the cockier I got.”

The sheriff looked at Strongheart, unseen by the lad, and gave him a wink and a grin. Joshua was being very tough on Scottie, but his heart was breaking for him. Scottie, in the meantime, was heartbroken, because he could tell that his hero was very disappointed in him. The teenager wondered if Joshua would even have anything to do with him after this.

Scottie knew how much Joshua respected total honesty, so he decided to be brutally honest.

He said, “I guess I got cocky when I started hearing stories about the big monster in Phantom Canyon, and I started thinking that was me. It really made me feel special, and I really didn't know I caused anybody to die, sir. Honest.”