Quicksilver Passion (135 page)

Doc nodded.
There’s a third partner, a big half-breed who went off to the war and never came back. Reckon he was killed.”

Course I wouldn’t want to make Bill feel beholden to an old friend if there ain’t enough dust up on that claim to go around . . .”

Oh, I think they’re doing fine,” Doc hastened to assure him.
Been trying to get them to put their pokes in the bank, but they don’t get in too often.” He pointed vaguely in the distance.
It’s not too far from Mt. Silver Heels.”

Jake turned and looked at the snow-capped peak.
Funny name for a mountain.”

Doc told him the story.

I knew a purty gal named Silver once. Don’t suppose it could be the same one.”

Doc shrugged.
Likely not, although this one was a beauty a man wouldn’t soon forget—until the epidemic and she got the smallpox. She went away, but a couple of folks think they’ve seen her all dressed in mourning and a veil, putting wild flowers on the graves along about dusk.”

Ghost story, huh? Sounds like someone’s had a wee bit too much of the hair of the dog that bit him!” Jake guffawed and lit one of the cheap, strong cigars he favored.

Doc shrugged.
She’s a legend, and that’s a fact. No one knows what ever became of her. Dead most likely.”

Jake nodded absently, his mind already on two old prospectors up in the Mosquito Gulch. He exchanged a few more pleasantries and rode out.

It was even easier than Jake had thought it would be. He saw the smoke from the little cabin from a long way off. Dismounting, he hid his horse and sneaked up to the claim. He caught unawares one who limped and garroted him with the handle of his big whip. It was something he had learned from his bitter enemies, the Comanches. That tribe feared to die by hanging or choking because they thought a man’s spirit escaped out of his mouth as he died—unless he died by hanging or choking. Then his spirit was trapped in the dead body forever. Jake shuddered a little at the thought. He was superstitious enough to believe it himself. Gawd almighty! He sure didn’t want to go that way!

Now he went up to the cabin. A small burro munched hay in the corral and a man sang in a cracked, off-key voice from inside. Jake opened the door and sneaked in. Years of living around Indians had taught him to step lightly as a scorpion. The old man had his back to Jake, cooking something in the fireplace. A board creaked under Jake’s boot and the old man paused.
Willie, is that you?”

Jake moved between the old codger and the rifle leaning against the door.
Nope, it’s me, you deaf bastard.” He leveled his Sharps on the old man.
Now you tell me where you hide your stash and maybe I won’t have to torture you before I kill you.”