The Rider of Phantom Canyon (6 page)

Strongheart said, “I'm surprised your aunt and uncle would let you out so late, and so far away. That's a good ten-mile ride from your place, almost.”

Scottie looked down.

He said, “My aunt is in bed a lot, Mr. Strongheart. She cries a lot and has been sick some. My uncle left us, lost his job at the prison, and has taken up drinking again.”

Joshua felt bad.

He said, “Where is your uncle?”

Scottie said, “He hangs out all the time at McClure's Saloon. I heard he is living in an old miner's cabin up north of town.”

The sheriff stood up and looked over at Strongheart, waiting to follow his lead.

Joshua said, “Well, Sheriff, you have to figure out what charges you're going to levy on Scottie. Why don't you toss him in a cell so we can talk about it?”

“Good idea,” the sheriff said, and grabbed Scottie's arm as tears welled up in the boy's eyes again.

He led him from the room, saying, “C'mon, youngster.”

Strongheart heard him open and then shut and lock the door of a cell, and the sheriff walked back into his office, closing the door. He and Joshua immediately started chuckling.

The sheriff said, “I swear, Strongheart. You sure put the fear of the good Lord into him. I'll bet you he walks the straight and narrow the rest of his life. How long should we make him worry?”

Strongheart said, “Why don't you make us both fresh cups of coffee while he cools his heels and worries? You can tell me how your family has been and what is happening with your folks.”

The sheriff winked and poured two steaming cups of coffee, handed one to Joshua, and sat down at his desk with his. They talked for a good twenty minutes while Scottie sweated bullets and choked back tears in his cell. He swore to himself he would never ever do anything to be put in a jail cell again if he got out of this somehow.

He thought about the last time he had seen his uncle.
The man came home drunk, and Scottie came in the door while his uncle Dave was rummaging through the cookie jar where Scottie's aunt kept her emergency money. She was pleading and rubbing a swelling red welt on her left temple.

“Please,” Aunt Kathy pleaded. “We need that money for food, David!”

Scottie's voice had changed, and he had gotten much taller. He was becoming a young man, and this incident made him reach an important decision.

He ran over to his uncle and jerked him around, pointing and yelling, “Did you hit my aunt? Did you hit my aunt?”

Dave swung at the boy, but was extremely drunk, and his punch was looping and sloppy. Scottie ducked and hit Dave with a looping hook punch that caught him flush on the side of his mouth. Blood immediately streamed from his uncle's mouth as the drunk flew into the table and fell on the floor in a clatter of dishes and bowls. To add insult to injury, the table fell over sideways on the man, the edge of it gashing his forehead open.

Scottie grabbed the table and flung it aside, then pointed at his bleeding uncle. He was shaking, he was so angry—something that had never really happened before.

The boy said, “Uncle Dave, if you ever lay a hand on Aunt Kathy again, I will beat you within an inch of your life! Do you understand me, Uncle Dave? I mean it!”

Grumbling and rubbing his bloody face, the drunk
got up and staggered out the door, mumbling under his breath.

Scottie turned to see his aunt staring at him with awe and pride on her face and tears in her eyes.

She held Scottie and said softly, “Good riddance.”

Now Scottie looked around the jail cell and shook his head, and tears welled up in his eyes.

In the office, Joshua walked toward the door, saying, “I may be back in a few minutes or a half an hour.”

He was formulating a plan for Scottie, and he left the sheriff wondering what it might be as he watched Joshua walking a block down and entering McClure's Saloon.

Walking in, he heard someone say, “Howdy, Mr. Strongheart!”

He gave a wave and headed toward the corner where Scottie's uncle Dave was sitting, back to the door, very drunk, as usual. Strongheart reached down, grabbed him by the back of his lapel with his left hand, and grabbed the man's ear with his right hand, lifting him out of the chair and marching him toward the door.

Strongheart said, “Come on, Dave. We're taking a little walk.”

Uncle Dave screamed in pain, his eyes slowly moving around while he tried to figure out what was going on. Strongheart marched him downhill the quarter of a mile to the fast-flowing, summer-swollen Arkansas River. Then he walked him a block up the river road west to the Fourth Street Bridge and out over the angry, raging watercourse, the drunken man arguing all the way. Several
passersby followed the two out of sheer curiosity, and the word quickly went through the crowd that it was the famous Joshua Strongheart teaching somebody a lesson.

Joshua looked the drunken man in the eyes and said through gritted teeth, “What did I tell you would happen if I caught you drinking ever again?”

Uncle Dave's eyes opened wide in sheer panic as he protested, “Mr. Strongheart, I cain't swim!”

Joshua said, “Good time to learn.”

He picked the man up by his neck and his hair and tossed him off the bridge like a rag doll. Screaming, Dave hit the water with a splash, and Strongheart walked fast back toward the sheriff's office without looking to see if the man was going to flail his way to a river bank or not. People in the crowd didn't seem to care, either, as they simultaneously applauded and laughed, watching Joshua walk away.

Minutes later, he was in the sheriff's office and sitting down to a new cup of coffee.

The sheriff looked at Strongheart and started chuckling.

He took a sip of his own coffee and said, “Pay his uncle a visit?”

Joshua grinned, saying, “If you want to ask him, Sheriff, I think you'll find him taking a leisurely swim down the Arkansas.”

The lawman slapped his leg and started guffawing. He looked at the half-breed and shook his head, just roaring.

Joshua said, “I think I'd like to talk with the boy again.”

The sheriff left the room, returning in a minute with Scottie. The young teenager's eyes were red-rimmed.

Strongheart said, “Have a seat,” and Scottie sat down.

Strongheart said, “Did we get your attention, young man?”

Scottie sat up straight. “Mr. Strongheart, Sheriff, I give you both my word as a man, I will never, ever break the law in my life again. Never!”

Joshua said, “Well, the sheriff has agreed to place you under my care. I'm going to hire you as an assistant, but I will expect a day's work for a day's wages. Agreed?”

Scottie beamed. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Thank you, Sheriff.”

Strongheart said, “Very well, then. Right now, we are going to go have a talk with your aunt.”

Scottie went out and placed his bridle on his horse while Joshua spoke briefly with the sheriff, they shook, and he left. A few minutes later, Eagle and Hero were trotting down the river road toward Scottie's house.

Strongheart escorted Scottie inside. His aunt was shocked that the tall hero actually came into their house.

Joshua removed his hat and said, “Nice to see you again, Kathy. Scottie and I need to have a chat with you if you have a few minutes.”

She had been working on a patchwork quilt and started putting her materials away, saying, “Please,
Mr. Strongheart, have a seat. I just made some apple pie and put coffee on when I saw you riding up.”

He sat at the modest table, looking around at the small, neat house.

Strongheart said, “Please, I told you before, call me Joshua.”

There was a look of concern on her suntanned face. She sat down, the edges of her gingham cotton dress flowing out over both sides of the chair. She cut pie for Joshua, Scottie, and herself, then got up and grabbed the coffeepot. She poured herself and Joshua cups of coffee and finally sat down.

The Pinkerton waited and said, “Scottie has been a busy young man for several months and wants to tell you of his activities.”

He looked at Scottie, who had tears welling up in his eyes. He did not want to worry or hurt his aunt and knew his actions had been very selfish. The young man told the story of the monster of Phantom Canyon he had inadvertently become. To Strongheart's pleasure, he did not excuse himself or try to soften what he had done. She sniffled and shook her head while the story was being told.

When he finished and apologized, she said, “What I want to know is how you were able to disappear and ride so far away and so far back without me knowing it. I feel like I have failed you, as I have always tried to maintain a watchful eye over you.”

With this, she sobbed a little and tears welled up in Scottie's eyes again.

He said, “I think that was part of the thrill of it, Aunt Kathy. I would sneak out after you went to sleep, or some nights when you be crying alone. I could hear ya, and I knew you would cry yourself to sleep.”

Her face turned bright crimson as she looked over at Strongheart.

In explanation, she said, “I am so glad he is gone, Joshua. He became so cruel with all his drinking. Scottie beat him up and protected me, and he has not come back since. Is it true what my neighbor told me?”

Joshua grinned.

Scottie said, “What did they say, Auntie?”

“They said that Joshua marched your uncle down all the way from McClure's Saloon to the Fourth Street Bridge and tossed him into the Arkansas River, and he almost drowned. He got pulled out down on Ninth Street.”

Scottie laughed and said, “Is that true, Mr. Strongheart?”

Joshua said, “Well, Scottie, you heard me warn him what would happen if he drank again.”

“Oh, I wish I could have seen that!” Scottie said.

Strongheart and Scottie each ate another piece of pie, while Scottie and Joshua both finished filling in all the details of Scottie's misadventures.

Joshua pulled some money out of his Levi's and handed that money to Scottie.

He said, “All right, young man, you are going to work for me, and I want to pay you an advance on your earnings. Do you know what that means?”

“No, sir,” the lad answered.

Strongheart said, “There is one hundred dollars there. I am giving you some of your wages now so you can be prepared to work your fanny off for me without worrying about your aunt.”

Tears in her eyes again, Kathy looked at Joshua and mouthed the words, “God bless you.”

Scottie said, “I can't take this, sir. I never seen this much money in my life.”

Strongheart said, “I'm the boss, so you do not argue with me. Just do what you're told. Also, learn how to speak correctly. It is ‘I never saw,' not ‘I never seen.'”

“Yes, sir,” Scottie said. “Thank you, sir.”

He turned and handed the money to his aunt, who immediately headed toward her cookie jar to put it away. She hugged Scottie tightly and mouthed another silent thank-you to Joshua.

She straightened up, saying, “Well, you have apologized, and I forgive you. Now it looks as though you are growing up earlier than you wanted to, but maybe that is a good thing, Scottie. I trust Mr. Strongheart implicitly, so if there are days or nights you are not here, I will know he is watching over you. So skedaddle, and be sure you give Mr. Strongheart more than a fair day's work for his very generous wages.”

She walked over to Joshua and stood up on her
tiptoes, pulling his head down to give him a peck on his cheek.

“Thank you, Joshua,” she said, and walked to her bedroom, hiding her new, glistening tears.

The pair left the house and saddled up.

From that day on, no matter how manly Scottie would become, his eyes would well up with tears at the slightest emotional trigger.

The overpayment advance of several months' pay was not a problem for the Pinkerton, who always carried extra money. Joshua was actually very wealthy, having been left a large inheritance from his mother and stepfather. Her mercantile was worth a lot of money when she passed, and she had saved and invested wisely. She also had taught him to be thrifty, so he gladly accepted his wages and expense account from the Pinkerton Agency.

His stepfather had told him years before, “Find a job that you would do for free, then do your job the very best you can and save your money.”

Although he rarely attended or was even in town to attend, Joshua even gave tithes to and was a member of the First United Presbyterian Church of Cañon City, which was located near his late fiancée's home at Seventh and Macon Streets. By 1902, it would be built into one of Colorado's oldest and most beautiful churches, but right then, it was still a very nice church and quite popular with local residents, and had been since 1862. There were also popular Baptist, Methodist, and Catholic churches
in the town. Strongheart believed in some of the tenets of his father's religion of the Lakota, but was a Christian in his heart and main beliefs. To him, spirituality was a necessity for a warrior. In fact, with his father's people, it was empirically more important to be considered in favor with the Great Spirit than it was to be brave in battle. It was the same way with many other native
nations.

There was only one time that Joshua did not have extra money hidden on him, and that was the last time he drank and got into very serious trouble. As they rode, he thought about that experience. Joshua had been riding south from Montana Territory and decided to spend the night in a town, opting for Cheyenne. It had only been established in 1867, in what was Dakota Territory that would later become Wyoming Territory, but a newspaper editor had already dubbed it the “jewel of the plains” because it had grown so rapidly. Joshua remembered crossing Crow Creek and heading to the Cheyenne Social Club to wet down some of the prairie dust he had been swallowing for several days.

*   *   *

He blinked his eyes and felt dizzy. His head felt like he was spinning in a circle, and his tongue felt like there was fuzz on it. A sweet-sour flavor crept from his stomach into his mouth, and Joshua sat up quickly on his bunk, making everything worse. He looked in the corner and saw a waste bucket for his use, and he ran to it, emptying whatever might have been left in his stomach into it. His head pounded as if his horse were standing on it and trotting in place. Finally, he spotted a bucket with a bar of soap and towel nearby, and he crawled to it on hands and knees and dunked his head in and out of the bucket three times. His head cleared a little as he shook it like an old dog who had just crossed a creek.

He blinked his eyes and then rubbed his face with the towel, looking around. Joshua Strongheart was in a dark, dusty jail cell and could not, for the life of him, figure out how he got there. He only remembered crossing Crow Creek and that was all, and now he was in a cell.

Joshua and Scottie rode toward the Royal Gorge as he remembered the rest of that incident, which was never far from his mind.

The outer door opened with a loud, rusty squeak, and Joshua scrunched his shoulders up with the sound, which made his headache hurt worse. He had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. Dark auburn, her hair hung all the way down to the small of her back, and it had a natural curl in it, the morning sun streaking through the
window making it glisten like dewdrops. The classy full-length shiny green dress she wore could not hide the natural curves of her body, but what entranced him were the light hazel, almost yellow eyes. She smiled looking at him and walked right up to the bars. Hesitantly, he got to his feet and walked forward.

“The deputy said I could visit with you briefly,” she said through full crimson lips.

Joshua knew this beauty was speaking to him as if they were close. Her body language showed it, but he had no idea what had transpired the night before, or nights before.

He said softly, “Hi,” still wondering why he was here and what had happened.

“Oh, you poor thing,” she cooed, “your eye is black, and you have a nasty cut on your cheekbone. I was certain those men were going to kill you. How can I ever thank you?”

He suddenly realized his left eye was almost swollen shut, and he winced as he touched his cheekbone.

“Well,” he said, actually trying to access information, “they were awfully tough. Weren't they?”

“Them?” she said, throwing up her hands. “You almost killed all three of them.”

Now Joshua was really concerned, and it was driving him crazy trying to figure out a missing piece of his history. Had he nearly killed someone? Did he use a gun, or his knife? What had started it? He made a silent promise to himself to never drink again. It seemed like
every time he tried to drink, things like this just seemed to happen, even if he just planned on having a cold beer. He also knew he had made himself the same promise before, but now here he was again, wondering what he had done.

She suddenly pulled him forward, kissing him full on the lips, and the door burst open again.

A very large and sloppy-looking strawberry-headed deputy walked into the room, saying, “Time's up, ma'am.”

She whispered, “Even though they were paying customers, I could not believe how you took exception to them touching me. You were such a gentleman, protecting my honor.”

Joshua stepped back and sat down hard on his cot.

He smiled at her feebly, saying, “Sorry. Hangover. Are they okay, ma'am?”

She headed toward the door, saying, “Don't know, sweetie. Ask him. Thanks again,” indicating the deputy.

Joshua gave the deputy a sheepish grin and said, “Did I hurt some men last night?”

“Naw,” the deputy replied, and Joshua felt relief.

Then the jailer added, “More like half kilt 'em. Ya broke up Bugger Johnson's face bad, knocked out a lot a the teeth he had left, broke his jaw, smashed his nose. Lessee, Big Ed Thomas, ya snapped his arm like it was firewood. He screamed like a durn banshee. Then poor ole Lucifer Rhames. Took the doc most a the night to get him awake. He cain't remember what happened, neither.”

The deputy shuffled toward the door, then stopped and scratched his ample beard stubble, chuckling.

He added, “In fact, Lucifer cain't remember any a this week or last, the doc said. His face looks like the walls of Black Canyon out yonder. Phew. Ya gave them lads a whippin', Injun. You are durned-shore rattler-mean when you git some rotgut in ya. Guess you will be going down to the Territorial Prison down ta Cañon City fer a long visit. Hope ya like eatin' hog slop.”

Laughing at his own joke, he exited, leaving Joshua with his confused thoughts.

What troubled the hungover, mixed-up young man was that this had happened before when he drank. He could not remember at all what happened, and he obviously turned into a monster.

Joshua got up and paced back and forth across the cell, muttering to himself, “I can't trust myself. Even if I have a beer this seems to happen. I get drunk and get whiskey-mean.”

He set his jaw and told himself he must have the red man's weakness for liquor, and he would never, ever drink again. No sooner had he made this solemn oath to himself than the outer door creaked open again and the strawberry-headed jailer walked in with the keys, followed by a well-dressed, middle-aged man in a tailored businessman's suit. Joshua could clearly see the handles of the pair of Colt Navy .36's the man wore under his suit coat.

It was Lucky, and Joshua moaned out loud, “Damn!”

The door was opened, and, startled, Joshua walked out unsteady on his feet.

Lucky waited until Joshua was given his weapons and they had walked out into the blinding sunlight, with Joshua squinting his eyes and not realizing he was moaning out loud.

“This weel never happen again,” Lucky said with a slight French accent, his face red with anger. “I had to call een a favor with zee judge, and the three men you broke up were happy to get one hundred dollars each for zere injuries.”

Joshua felt horrible.

He said, “I am very sorry, Lucky. I will pay Pinkerton Agency back for the three hundred dollars.”

Lucky interrupted. “Zee Pinkerton Agency deed not pay it. Zey do not know about thees. I paid eet, and you weel pay eet back, and your five-hundred-dollar fee for damages I paid to zee judge. You weel pay eet back each paycheck, one hundred dollars at a time, to me.”

Joshua said, “Thank you very much, Lucky. I mean it. I will pay back two hundred dollars out of each paycheck, and I will never get into that kind of scrape again. I will never take another drink the rest of my life.”

His own words hit him suddenly, and he shivered, but he had given his word and that was that. If he dared ever break his word, he knew the ghost of Marshal Dan Trooper would come back to haunt him. The man's stern lessons had stuck, especially about keeping your word, and would remain with Joshua Strongheart all his days.

Then he thought to himself what a skinflint he had been as they walked along.

He said, “Lucky, I have money, plenty of it, in the bank in Denver. I will repay you within the week every penny. It is not necessary to deduct any from my paycheck.”

Lucky said, “
Sacre bleu
, Joshua! If you have plenty of money, why do you work for zee Pinkerton Agency?”

Strongheart said, “Lucky, I have not been with you long, but this job is a career for me, not a job. I love the work and the potential for the future. I was left an inheritance, so I do not have to work. I simply do not want to sit in some parlor every day listening to piano recitals and poetry readings, or sit on a slow-moving horse gathering cattle for market on some big ranch. I am proud to be a Pinkerton agent.”

Lucky said, “Eef you ever drink like zat again, you weel not be a Pinkerton agent anymore.”

Strongheart said, “I give you my solemn oath, I will never taste alcohol again, ever.”

Lucky knew how strongly Joshua felt about always keeping his word, and that did it for him.

Strongheart looked over at Scottie and thought about how his uncle had hurt the young lad with excessive drinking. He was so glad that he had been able to recognize his own weakness early on and do something about it.

“Where are we going, Mr. Strongheart?”

Joshua said, “This is your first day of training.”

“Training?”

“Training,” Joshua repeated. “You said you want to be a Pinkerton agent, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Scottie said enthusiastically.

Strongheart said, “We'll start off with a new rule. You're what now, fourteen, fifteen years old?”

Scottie proudly said, “Fifteen, sir.”

Joshua said, “In many tribes, you would be fighting in battles and stealing horses, and might even be married with kids. You want to be a man, we'll help you become one, if you can handle the training.”

“I can,” Scottie boasted proudly, although inside his stomach he could feel butterflies flying upside down and sideways in anticipation of what lay ahead.

They had ridden uphill for eight full miles and were now one thousand feet higher than the Arkansas River, which was flowing a mile to their left down through a magnificent Arkansas River canyon that would become world famous for its pristine beauty, thousand-foot sheer cliffs, and the winding, churning, angry whitewater rapids that ran the length of the canyon. Before dark, they were riding down a long, winding hill, and Scottie could see the Arkansas River down below them. The area had been called Parkdale. At the bottom of the hill, there was a bridge and they rode across the river.

Scottie looked to his left and watched the churning water as it plunged into the steep-walled canyon. Now they rode west through a valley with rocky ridges in every direction with the river to their right. Strongheart
spotted a grove of trees near the river and headed toward it.

They rode in and dismounted, and Joshua said, “We'll camp here tonight. Make camp for us.”

Scottie's mind raced. He did not know what to do. He first unsaddled the horses and put the saddles near an old campfire in the middle of the grove. Joshua sat down, grinning, and drank from his canteen. Scottie was doing the best he could trying to figure out how to prepare the campsite, but seemed a bit lost. His uncle Dave had never done anything but be abusive, and Scottie had not been old enough for his father to teach him much before his death.

Strongheart stood up and he said, “Scottie, stop for a minute. Look up through the trees at the sky. Can you see those storm clouds coming in from the west?”

Scottie said, “Yes, sir.”

Joshua said, “We are probably getting rain tonight, so what should be your first priorities?”

Scottie answered hesitantly, “A fire and shelter?”

Strongheart said, “Correct, and also water. Throw the saddles on the horses, and we will head toward that ridge one mile to the west. We need to find an overhang with trees and vegetation nearby. We'll be right by the river, so we will have plenty of water.”

Where he was looking was one mile west, where the river came out of another narrow, steep canyon, called Bighorn Sheep Canyon by the locals. That canyon had very high mountain ridges extending up on both
sides of the river, with a set of railroad tracks going through the gorge and then along the north side of the churning, boiling whitewater river. For forty miles, herds of bighorn sheep could be seen along the river, and occasional fluffy white Rocky Mountain goats, as well. The canyon was inundated with more mountain lions per square mile than any other place in the United States, and cinnamon- and blond-phase black bears and grizzly bears roamed freely through the many gulches and ridges that ran on either side of the river to both the north and the south.

Strongheart found a spot along the south side of the raging current where there was a large rock overhang.

He showed this selection to Scottie and explained, “If you have rain or snow threatening, or even possible, you always want shelter. With the mountains we so often have around us, shelter is already created by nature. We have a rock overhang that juts out over us, so now we use rocks and dig if we need to make sure torrents of water won't come down the mountain and wash from the sides into our camp.”

There were only a few spots where it could become flooded, and the pair made blocking fences with large rocks to route the water beyond the camp.

Finishing that, Strongheart said, “Now we need firewood, several dry logs and large branches, then smaller branches, and then squaw wood.”

“I thought
squaw
was a bad word?” Scottie asked.

“No, that's a fairy tale, Scottie,” Joshua responded.
“It's a good word for a woman. Do you know what squaw wood is?”

Scottie replied, “No, sir.”

Strongheart said, “It is smaller, dry wood—twigs, small sticks—and pinecones that you can pick up, the small dead branches easily reached on the lower end of trees, and the sawdust-like wood you find at the base of trees. That is what you start a fire with. Sometimes, when you look for that, you will find old birds' nests that are dried out, and they make good tinder for starting a fire, too.”

The two started gathering wood, and Scottie was very excited, because he did find an old bird's nest, which he proudly displayed for Strongheart. They gathered more wood, and Joshua showed Scottie how to start the fire using the bird's nest in the middle of a small teepee fire. That teepee fire was set up in the middle of a log cabin fire with larger logs going in both directions, overlapping each other, just like the construction of a log cabin. Joshua let Scottie do most of the construction of their fire and had him place rocks all around it. He cautioned him about not using rocks from the nearby rushing river, because they would sometimes contain pockets of water which could heat up, boil, and literally explode.