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Dark Riders
Chapters Four, Five and Six
Scott A. Gese
Dark Riders
Chapter Four
“He tried to kill me… but I don’t die that easily,” Chester said as he dropped to his knees in obvious distress.
Richard rushed to his friend and caught him just as he began to fall forward. The back of Chester’s shirt was soaked with blood. It seemed Nate had silently approached him from behind while he gathered firewood and sunk his knife deep between his shoulder blades. Chester collapsed to the ground and lay still. Nate pulled out his knife, wiped it on Chester’s shirt before re-sheathing it, and then continued on to confront Richard.
Richard rolled Chester over and lifted his head.
“Chester, I’m so sorry I got you involved in my business. This is one of the very reasons I left the Dark Riders.”
Chester slowly opened his eyes and tried to speak. His voice was faint as he struggled to utter his final words. “So, you were one of them. I knew I’d get an answer out of you before the day was out, and I did. I’m glad you’re not one of them now. I’ll see you in Glory Land, Richard.”
He closed his eyes. “Glory Land,” he whispered softly. A smile crossed his face, and then he was gone.
Richard buried Nate out in the desert. He emptied the shells from both of his pistols and returned them to their holster, but in reverse. This signified that the guns were now useless to the owner of the riderless horse. He draped the belt securely across the saddle of the black stallion and turned him loose. The horse would find its way back to the unit, and they would all understand the meaning of the gun belt with the emptied and reversed revolvers.
Richard took his good friend Chester back to the ranch for a proper burial. It was the least he could do. After the funeral, he decided it was best to move on. Not only was his life in danger, but so were the lives of anyone he was with. He was tired of looking over his shoulder, and if he was ever to find peace in his life, he needed to focus his full attention on devising a plan to defeat the Dark Riders once and for all.
A few days after Chester’s funeral, Richard packed up his few belongings and said his goodbyes to the rest of the men at the Bar K Bar. As he saddled his horse, the ranch foreman, Handy McClean, approached him one last time in an attempt to persuade him to stay.
Handy was a tough foreman, respected greatly by all the men at the Bar K Bar, but he had a soft side that rarely showed through his rough exterior.
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to change your mind? You’ve been one of my top hands for nearly two years now, and I really hate to lose someone with your experience. Not only that, I consider you a good friend, and I truly hate to lose good friends. I understand how you must feel. I can only imagine how hard it must have been to have a friend like Chester die in your arms.”
Handy looked down at the ground and scuffed the dirt with the side of his boot for a few seconds before continuing.
“Listen, Richard, is there any way I can convince you to take some time off? Maybe head into town for a few days and spend some time with that gal I hear you’re sweet on—the one over at the café. What’s her name, Wendy?”
“Look, Handy,” Richard replied. “I appreciate your concern and your desire for me to stay, but you need to understand that the man who killed Chester and tried to kill me wasn’t working alone. There are more of them out there, and the longer I stay around here, the more danger I’m putting you and the rest of the men in. Chester was killed because of me. If I stick around, he may not be the last, and I don’t want that on my conscience.”
“The Bar K Bar protects its own,” Handy countered. “The boys and I can handle anyone who comes our way. We’re not afraid of a good fight.”
“Believe me, Handy, if it comes to that, the odds would not be in your favor. It’s fortunate for you that these men don’t know exactly where I am, but I can guarantee it won’t take long for them to find out. So it’s best that I leave now before they do. I’ll be heading into town to pick up a few provisions, and then I’ll be on my way. Oh, and yes, her name is Wendy. The good thing is she barely knows I exist, so I’m sure it won’t be much of a loss to her when I leave town.”
“Well, if there’s nothing I can do to persuade you to stay, all that’s left for me is to shake your hand and thank you for all the hard work you’ve put in here at the Bar K Bar. If you ever need anything, like someone to watch your back or possibly a good job, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks, Handy, I appreciate that. I really wish it didn’t have to be this way, but take my word for it; it’s for the best, even if you don’t see it. Take care, Handy. I hope we meet again.”
Richard and Handy exchanged a hearty handshake. Richard untied his horse and mounted up.
“I always did like that black beauty you have, even if she makes a lousy ranch horse,” Handy teased.
“You’re just jealous,” Richard replied with a slight chuckle and a broad smile.
With that, he turned his horse and rode out through the gate.
Handy watched as Richard ascended a small rise. Looking back, Richard gave his friend one last wave goodbye before disappearing over the hill.
Handy returned to work, hoping something or someone in town would convince him to change his mind.
Chapter Five
Richard’s ride into the town of Centerville was quiet, lonely, and uneventful. It gave him plenty of time to reflect on what he was leaving behind, and the more he thought about it, the unhappier he became. He had been building a new life for himself at the Bar K Bar, a top-notch ranch where he had made quite a few friends both on the ranch and in town, including a pretty girl named Wendy who worked at the café where he stopped for lunch whenever he visited. Now, here he was, ready to give it all up and run, packing his tail between his legs like a whipped dog. He had never backed down from a fair fight in his life, but the thought of being shot in the back, or worse yet, another one of his friends, from over a hundred yards away didn’t thrill him. It was a real possibility; every man in the Dark Riders unit was an expert marksman with a sharps breech-loader, and now, with Chester having been stabbed in the back, the chance of something like that happening again was even greater.
Richard understood that the odds were stacking up against him now that the Dark Riders were closing in on his location. He could reduce those odds by trading his horse for something less conspicuous, but that was precisely why he still had the black stallion. He knew his horse would never conform to another owner, and even if someone else could manage to tame him, they would be a sitting target, vulnerable to a case of mistaken identity by an overanxious Dark Rider who might think the new owner was him.
A fleeting thought crossed his mind that it might be an easy way to end all of this, but he quickly dismissed it. He wasn’t about to let another man take a bullet for him. No, the horse was his, and unless he went so far as to put a bullet in its head, for better or for worse, it would remain his.
Richard still had a few unresolved issues to work out and not much time to do so.
As he approached Centerville, he decided it was best to keep his horse undercover. The livery would provide a suitable place for that. With Dark Riders in the area, he needed to take extra precautions until he left town, and keeping his horse out of sight was one of them.
Upon entering the livery, he was greeted by the ever-amiable Adam North, the proprietor.
“Well, howdy there, stranger! It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of putting up that fine-looking beast of yours. Even though I can’t get close to him, he is a beauty and well worth admiring from afar. What brings you into town on this fine day, and how are things at the Bar K Bar?”
“Well, hello there yourself, Adam,” replied Richard. “The Bar K Bar is doing well. We have plenty of fat cows this year, and it won’t be long before things get really busy.” He quickly changed the subject, not wanting to reveal his plans to leave town after gathering a few supplies.
“Say, Adam, would you mind putting my horse in the back stall for a bit? I’d like to keep him out of sight for now.”
“Sure thing, Richard,” replied Adam. “But you wouldn’t happen to be in some sort of trouble, would you?”
“No, sir,” Richard said. “Why do you ask?”
“Well,” Adam continued, “your request to keep your horse in the back reminded me that a couple of fellas came in here earlier this morning. I ain’t never seen them before, and they were asking about you. At least, I assume they were asking about you since they wanted to know if I’d seen anyone around town riding a big black stallion. Why, heck, Richard, you’re the only one I know who rides a horse like that.”
Richard suddenly became very concerned and began to pepper Adam with questions. “Can you describe what they looked like? What did you tell them? What were they riding? Where did they go from here?”
“Whoa, slow down there, son. I didn’t tell them a thing. I had a bad feeling about those two, and I didn’t think it was any of their business to be asking what I knew. They were just a couple of ordinary-looking drifters. They rode in on these two horses right here, as a matter of fact.”
Adam pointed to the two bays in the far stalls. Richard walked over for a closer look. Sure enough, he recognized them as belonging to the Dark Riders. Not wanting to draw attention to themselves, these horses were typically used by the unit's advance survey team, which usually consisted of two men who gathered information about a bank or payroll office. This information was essential for planning the unit’s next robbery.
“I’m sorry I jumped on you like that, Adam, and I truly appreciate that you didn’t tell them anything. I recognize these two horses. The men who rode in on them are pure trouble. Do you have any idea where they were headed?”
“I sure do,” replied Adam. “Like I said, I had a bad feeling about those two, so I kept a close eye on them. They walked right over to the bank, which kind of surprised me. I don’t think too many outlaws would board their horses before robbing a bank, so I figured they weren’t there to steal anything. They were inside for about half an hour before they came out, and once they did, they headed straight for the Nightingale, where they’ve been ever since. I never trust an early drinker, and they don’t serve food at the Nightingale.”
Now that Richard knew where the two men were, he felt he had the advantage. He breathed a little easier knowing they were likely liquored up and not in top form if he needed to confront them.
At some point, he would have to inform the sheriff about what was happening, but for now, he would do some surveying of his own.
Chapter Six
There was little doubt that the Dark Riders were planning to rob
the bank. If they still used the same tactics as when he was part of
the outfit, they would hit the bank on Friday after it closed for the
day. That way, no one would be the wiser until it opened for business
on Monday morning, giving them two full days to make their escape.
Richard kept a wary eye as he headed to the general store. He needed to stock up on a few provisions before leaving town, and as luck would have it, the store was directly across the street from the Nightingale. It provided a good vantage point to keep an eye on the saloon’s front door until the men he was concerned about decided to leave.
As soon as he walked into the store, he was greeted by the owner, Miles Petty. Miles was a tall, thin man with a likable personality. He had more hair on his upper lip than on his whole head, as he was completely bald. He kept his mustache neatly waxed, twisted, and curled at the tips. Richard had taken to calling him ‘Smiley’ some time ago, not only because his mustache reminded him of a giant smile, but also because the man never spoke an unkind word. Miles was truly happy and loved to talk. His business attracted folks from town as well as the local ranches. With one eye constantly on the Nightingale and one ear to the wall, so to speak, he knew the pulse of the town, both rumor and truth.
“Well, good afternoon, Richard,” greeted Miles.
“Hey there, Smiley. How’s business these days?” replied Richard as he approached the counter.
“Business is always good. What can I do for you on this fine day?”
“I need a few supplies, Smiley.” Richard reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded slip of paper with a short list he had written, and handed it to Miles.
Miles carefully examined the list. “Seems like you’re planning to go somewhere. It may be none of my business, but do you mind if I ask where?”
“I’m thinking about heading out to California…maybe.”
“California, maybe? You don't sound too sure of your plan, Richard. Does this mean you’re leaving the Bar K Bar?”
“I’m afraid so. I collected my pay this morning. Do you think I could interest you in a game of checkers? One last game before I head down the road?”
The checkerboard was set up in front of the window overlooking the street, with the Nightingale directly across. Richard was anxious to see which of the Dark Riders were in town and hoped they would step out of the saloon while he discreetly kept an eye on it from the window. The sheer curtains allowed him to see out while concealing his identity from anyone looking in.
“Checkers? You bet! I’m always up for a good game or two,” Miles replied with eager anticipation.
To Miles, the checkerboard was more than a game; it was an office. It was a relatively quiet space where locals could relax and discuss the pressing issues on their minds. Miles was an excellent listener, with an uncanny ability to get most people to open up and share their deepest secrets. Richard had always been a tough nut to crack, a challenge he had yet to win. This would be his final chance.
The two men took their seats at the board, which Miles always kept ready for an impromptu game. As they played, Richard focused on both the board and the saloon. After winning the first game almost too easily, Miles sensed something was on Richard's mind. With the finesse of a skilled surgeon, he began to gently probe at the edges of Richard's concerns, just as he had done with many others who sat across the board.
“It seems like you’ve got something on your mind other than checkers, Richard?”
Richard had a lot on his mind. He didn’t like the idea of running from the Dark Riders, leaving the Bar K Bar, or departing from Centerville—a town he cared about. Most of all, he didn’t like the thought of leaving Wendy, the woman he was fond of. However, Richard understood Miles and the game he liked to play at the checkerboard, which had nothing to do with checkers.
To avoid answering, Richard posed a question of his own. “Tell me something, Smiley. Did you see the two men who wandered into the Nightingale earlier this morning?”
“Are you talking about the two strangers packing .44s who went in and haven’t come out yet?”
“I take that as a yes,” replied Richard. “Can you describe them?”
“Of course I can,” bragged Miles. “One was tall and lanky, and the other was short and stocky—not short short, but shorter than the tall one. The stocky one had a stiff left leg and walked with a limp—more of a slight limp, really. He also seemed more aggressive than the lanky one. Does that help you?”
“It does,” replied Richard. “I know who they are.”
“Well… are you going to fill me in on the details, or do I need to pry it out of you?”
“You can try,” jibed Richard. “But like most things you try to pry from me, it won’t be forthcoming.”
“In that case, let me tell you what else I know about those two men. When they came into town this morning, they went straight for the bank. They opened an account with five hundred dollars in gold coins. From what I understand, they were quite concerned about the security of their gold and asked many questions about the bank's operations. They insisted on seeing the safe where the bank keeps its money and seemed rather impressed, or maybe surprised, that the bank here in Centerville has a vault big enough for a man to walk into.
That’s everything I know about those two, aside from an educated guess that they are either heavy drinkers, involved with a couple of the songbirds at the Nightingale, or maybe both.”
“And just how did you find all this out?” Richard inquired.
“Easy,” Miles replied with a slight chuckle. “One of the bank tellers stopped by on his lunch break, and we had an ‘informative’ game of checkers.”
Richard and Miles continued their conversation until the two Dark Riders finally emerged from the Nightingale. Richard took a good look at the men and confirmed his suspicions. They were what the Dark Riders referred to as ‘planners’: advance men who assessed potential robbery targets and gathered information. This intel was then taken back to headquarters, where they outlined the steps to execute the job. Richard had worked with these two in the past, as he had been a planner for the unit before his moral convictions got the better of him.
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