Are you a published author looking to expand your reach? Find out how Living With Retirement can help you. <Find Out More Here>
Dark Riders
Chapters Seven, Eight and Nine
Scott A. Gese
Dark Riders
Chapter Seven
The two men stood on the walkway in front of the saloon, talking and gesturing. They glanced across the street a couple of times, and even though Richard was separated from them by a thin curtain, he wondered if they had recognized him. If they had, they didn’t make a move in his direction and eventually headed off toward the livery.
As soon as they were out of sight, Richard got up from the checkerboard, reached into his pocket, pulled out ten dollars, and handed it to Miles. “Smiley, here’s ten dollars for the supplies I’ve ordered. I’ll be back to get them later. Right now, I need to find the sheriff.”
“You’ll find him down at the barber shop,” replied Miles. “Wednesday is his haircut day. Do you want to let me in on what’s going on?”
“No,” Richard replied cautiously as he stepped outside.
He was prepared for a fight, just in case the two men had recognized him. If they had been drinking, they could become reckless; but then again, if they had been drinking, their reactions would be slow and their accuracy impaired, which would work to his advantage. He was fortunate not to encounter them between the store and the barber shop, where Sheriff Clarence McBride was just settling up his bill. Noticing someone out of the corner of his eye, he turned from the counter to find Richard standing just inside the shop door.
Sheriff McBride was an imposing figure, a hulking man with flaming red hair and a slight hint of an Irish accent that left no doubt about his roots. His parents had brought him to this country as a young lad, enduring months on a crowded ship and years in a cramped tenement on the East Coast. Eventually, the young McBride felt the need to stretch his legs. So, as soon as he had the chance, he left home and headed west. That was nearly thirty years ago. For a time, he earned his living as a bare-knuckle fighter in local saloons, boasting that he had never lost a fight. Any man in Centerville who dared to challenge him quickly learned that his claim was true. While he was skilled with a gun, he preferred to settle disputes with a quick jab to the nose or a solid right hook to the side of the head. Usually, that was all it took.
“Well, I’ll be. If it isn’t Richard Cole. What brings you to town in the middle of the week?”
“It’s a long story,” Richard replied. “Let’s walk over to your office, and I’ll fill you in.”
“Well, I’m done here, so let’s do just that—as long as you don’t mind making a quick stop along the way. My wife baked an apple pie this morning, and I need to swing by the café to grab a piece. I’ll get her to slice one off for you, too. Are you up for that?”
“A slice of your wife’s apple pie would be hard to resist, sheriff.”
“It might even be a crime,” McBride joked, chuckling at his own humor. “Besides, I think Wendy’s working today. Have you seen her yet?”
Richard wondered how the sheriff knew about his feelings for Wendy. “No, not yet,” he replied.
“Well, here’s your chance to say hello. Missy tells me you and Wendy have spoken a few times, and from what I hear, Wendy has taken a liking to you, young man.”
That was something Richard didn’t want to hear. He liked Wendy but figured she barely knew his name. Now that he was planning to leave town, that revelation made it all the more difficult.
The sheriff walked through the open front door of the Centerville Café, with Richard close behind. A lone customer sat at the far table, sipping a cup of hot coffee. Wendy was at the counter, looking rather bored, her long black hair tied back in a ponytail. She rested her chin on her folded arms, lazily turning her head as the sheriff entered but nearly jumping off her stool when she noticed Richard walk in behind him.
“Good afternoon, Wendy,” Richard greeted.
“Why, hello, Richard,” Wendy replied, her energy renewed and a wide smile spreading across her face. “What a pleasant surprise; and it’s not even the weekend.”
As Sheriff McBride and Missy began cutting up pie, Richard and Wendy engaged in small talk. Richard kept quiet about his plans to leave town; now that he knew the Dark Riders were planning to rob the bank, those plans were on hold until at least the weekend.
“Are you ready to head over to my office?” the sheriff inquired, standing at the door with a plate full of pie in each hand.
“I’m right behind you,” Richard answered, saying a hurried goodbye to Wendy as he stepped outside.
“He’s a keeper,” Missy commented to Wendy after the two had left.
“I like him,” replied Wendy, “but there’s something about him I’m unsure of. He seems a bit mysterious. I think I just need to get to know him better.”
***
Sheriff McBride settled into his desk chair, leaning back and
propping the heels of his boots on one corner. He grabbed his fork
and cut off a large bite of pie.
“So, what’s on your mind, Richard?” he asked, his mouth so full of pie that Richard could hardly understand him.
Richard sat down in a small chair across from the sheriff. What he was about to say could easily be interpreted in two ways: it could be completely dismissed, with the sheriff believing Richard didn’t know what he was talking about, or he could take it seriously, in which case a plan to capture the men would need to be devised. If that were the case, Richard would need to share details of his past, and he was uncertain how that would be received. One way or another, what Richard was about to say would change his life.
“Clarence, I was in the Union Army. I served under Colonel Robert Winslow.”
“It was a just cause, son,” Sheriff McBride replied, with genuine pride.
“I fully agree,” Richard responded.
He continued, “I was assigned to a special unit, a top-secret unit. I trained hard for two years and learned skills that most ordinary men can’t master. Unfortunately, my new abilities were never put to use because the war ended just as our unit was ready to be tested.”
Sheriff McBride shifted in his seat, taking his feet off the desk and leaning forward slightly, becoming more attentive. “What sort of things are we talking about here, son?”
Chapter Eight
Robert was growing increasingly nervous. He stood up, walked to the front window, and looked out across the street while Sheriff McBride waited patiently for his answer. He had never discussed these matters before, aside from conversations with the Dark Riders, and his hesitation must have been apparent. Taking a deep breath, he turned away from the window and returned to the desk. He sat on the edge of his chair, facing the sheriff.
“I’m not sure how to begin, and I’m really uncertain how you’re going to take what I have to say. So, I’ll just come out with it.” He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing. “I can put a bullet between a man’s eyes at fifty paces. With the right rifle, I can do it at a quarter mile. I can throw a knife through a man’s heart at twenty paces. I can track better than most men, even some Indians. This is just a glimpse of what I’m capable of, but it should give you an idea.”
Sheriff McBride was stunned by what Richard had just revealed. He struggled to determine whether what he had heard was the truth or just a wild story from a side of this young man he had never seen before.
“Go on,” he replied, trying to make sense of it.
“The unit was called the Dark Riders, and our mission was to infiltrate enemy lines and gather information. When the war ended, our unit was disbanded—or so the military thought. Our commanding officer, Colonel Winslow, secretly kept us together. Over the next several years, we did things I’m not particularly proud of. We all took an oath to never leave the unit under penalty of death, but I felt I had no choice. After careful planning, I managed to escape, fully aware that the others would try to kill me for doing so. I headed west, believing I was safely out of their territory when I took the job at the Bar K Bar.
It seems they are expanding their reach. Chester and I spotted them on the day he was killed. They saw us too and came after me. Chester was in the way, and he paid for it with his life.
“Well, that’s a mighty interesting story, Richard,” McBride remarked. “But to be perfectly honest, I don’t know how much of it I can believe.”
“I’m not done yet,” Richard continued. “I left the Bar K Bar this morning. I plan to leave the area before anyone else gets hurt. I’ve made friends here, Sheriff, and one of them has already been killed because of me. I don’t want that happening to anyone else, so I think it’s best for me to move on. I came into town this morning to pick up a few supplies. That’s when I saw them.”
“Saw who?” McBride asked.
“Dark Riders—two of them right here in town. I understand they opened a bank account this morning. These men are called ‘planners,’ and even though they opened an account, they’re not here to deposit money. They’re here to take it out. It’s up to them to identify the bank’s weak points to exploit. Clarence, I know for a fact they’re here to rob the bank. And I’ll tell you another thing: they’ll do it this Friday night.”
“OK,” remarked the sheriff, beginning to chuckle. “I think I’ve heard just about enough—Dark Riders and bank robbery. That’s one hell of a story, Richard. You almost had me convinced. Who put you up to this, anyway? Did that joker of a foreman, Handy McClean, put you up to this? ‘Cause if he did…”
“Sheriff,” Richard interjected in a tone that demanded respect, “this is no joke. How can I convince you I’m telling the truth?”
“Well, let me see,” replied McBride sarcastically. “You can back up what you’ve told me. I see that knife in your boot; I figure it’s more for show than anything else. Show me I’m wrong.”
Richard glanced around the room. “See that wanted poster on the far wall? It’s not twenty paces away—maybe less than fifteen—but I’ll still put it between the eyes of that hombre.”
“Well, have at it,” McBride replied.
Before the words had left the sheriff's mouth, Richard pulled the knife from his boot and threw it. The blade struck squarely between the eyes of Jack Baxter, wanted for murder.
The sheriff watched in subdued amazement, but he was still not thoroughly convinced. “So, you weren’t lying about the knife. But I still have my doubts. Follow me.”
Sheriff McBride led Richard out the back door, and the two men walked to the end of the narrow alley. Gazing across a small field, the sheriff spotted what he was looking for: a string with one end tied to a tree branch and the other tied around the neck of an old whiskey bottle. “See that bottle hanging from that tree? That’s close to fifty paces away. It was a bet between me and my deputy. We’re both decent shots, but neither of us has been able to hit that thing. I’ve tried several times with no luck. Let’s see what you can do.”
“I have no doubt I can hit it, but just to prove it’s not dumb luck, here’s what I’ll do: I’ll shoot the string it’s hanging from first, then hit the bottle as it falls.”
“You do that, son, and I’ll believe every word you told me.”
Without another word, Richard drew his gun and shot the string, causing the bottle to drop. Before it hit the ground, he shattered it with a second shot and re-holstered his gun before the echo faded.
Just then, the sheriff’s deputy came racing around the corner of the nearest building, yelling as he ran toward the sheriff. “I heard shots. Is everything okay?”
Sheriff McBride stood speechless, his face reflecting pure amazement. After a few seconds, he finally found his voice. “Everything is fine, deputy. Come along with us. We have some urgent business to discuss.”
Richard, Sheriff McBride, and his deputy, Mark Wheeler, headed back to the jailhouse and entered the sheriff’s office, where they began a serious discussion.
Looking directly at Richard, with authority in his tone, the sheriff spoke. “Before we go any further, I need to ask you a question. I’ll be straight with you, and I expect a straight answer. Are you a wanted man?”
“I’ve done some things I’m not proud of, sheriff, but the answer is no; I’m not a wanted man.”
“We’ve all done things we regret, son. As long as you’re not wanted by the law, that’s good enough for me. Now, tell me what you know and how we can proceed.”
Richard sat down across from the sheriff and began. “As I mentioned earlier, the two men who opened the bank account this morning are called ‘planners.’ Their job is to assess what they’re up against and devise a way to overcome any obstacles between them and their goal. In this case, it’s money. I’m sure they asked to see where their funds would be kept to ensure their safety. Since I saw them heading toward the livery earlier, I assume they’ve left town, which means they have all the information they need.”
I know they’ll rob the bank on Friday after it closes. That way, it won’t be discovered until Monday morning when it reopens, giving them plenty of time to make their getaway.
And I’ll tell you this too, Sheriff: the banker won’t even realize he’s been robbed until he opens the safe to withdraw the day’s petty cash. It will be as if the money just vanished into thin air. Not a clue will be found.
Chapter Nine
“What do you think we should do about it?” asked the deputy.
“I have a plan,” replied Richard. “But I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes here. After all, you two are the law in this town.”
Sheriff McBride spoke up. “You’re right; I am the sheriff here, but after what you’ve told us and what I’ve seen today, it’s clear that these men are not to be taken lightly. So, I’m open to hearing what you have to say, but that doesn’t mean I’ll necessarily go along with it.”
“Fair enough,” replied Richard. “Here’s what I think needs to be done.”
Richard, Sheriff McBride, and Deputy Wheeler discussed at length what to expect on Friday night. A plan was decided upon, and Sheriff McBride would begin to execute it the following day by discreetly meeting with several men in town who not only had the reputation of being straight shooters but also were trustworthy enough to keep quiet. They would be essential if their plan was to succeed. Until then, Richard needed to keep a low profile. He decided to head back to the livery, where he could stay out of sight and check on his horse. It would also provide him a good vantage point to monitor anyone coming into town.
As Richard entered the livery, he was greeted by Adam. “I tried to give your horse some feed earlier, Richard, but that black devil wouldn’t have any part of it. I think he would have killed me if those two friends of yours hadn’t come by when they did. They calmed him right down and fed him to boot. They said they didn’t know you were in town, and if they weren’t in such a hurry, they would have stuck around to give you a proper hello. After feeding your horse, they saddled up and rode out.”
“Yeah, that horse is pretty particular about who gets close to him. Thanks for trying and for telling me about my friends. I’m sorry I missed them, but I expect we’ll meet up again before long.”
Richard felt a pang of distress upon learning that the Dark Riders now knew he was in town. The element of surprise was surely gone. They would be fools to think he didn’t know they were planning to rob the bank. The question was: how would this change their plans? Friday night could not come soon enough; after all, he had only come into town to pick up a few supplies, and now all of this.
For two bits, Andy let him sleep in the loft that night, but Richard didn’t plan on doing much sleeping. With the Dark Riders aware of his location, he needed to stay alert. Sleeping in the loft was out of the question. He would have to find a safer spot to wait for the sun to rise.
Late into the night, a snort from his horse heightened Richard’s senses. He had been lightly asleep, sharing one corner of the stall, but now he was fully alert, listening intently and peering into the darkness beyond. His horse was becoming restless, and the reason soon became clear as a shadow silently passed along the outside of the stall. Richard’s fingers slowly wrapped around the handle of his knife as he made himself as invisible as possible.
He soon lost track of the ‘shadow’ as it moved toward the main area of the livery. Despite his keen listening, silence prevailed until the unmistakable squeak of a board from the direction of the ladder to the loft shattered the stillness.
Richard recognized it as one of the Dark Riders. Since they had previously checked and confirmed his horse was still there, he deduced they were now returning to scout the loft, hoping he might be hiding inside. He also understood that this person was no fool. The squeaking board would have sent anyone else retreating; climbing into the loft would no longer be an option. With a knife in hand, Richard slowly slithered on his stomach under the stall's bottom rail, straining to see through the darkness and hoping for another glimpse of the shadowy figure. He remained low and quiet until he spotted his target. The shadowy figure was inching toward the back door of the livery, needing to pass just a few feet from him to get there.
When the figure slipped by, the element of surprise was on Richard's side, and he seized the opportunity. Grabbing the dark figure by the ankle, he twisted and yanked, throwing the man onto the floor on his stomach with enough force to knock the wind out of him. Richard dove onto the man's back, grasped his hair with one hand, jerked his head back to expose his throat, and pressed the edge of his knife against it.
“Don’t do it, Richard,” the man pleaded quietly.
Richard thought he recognized the voice. “Is that you, Tom?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s me. I have a message for you…from the Colonel.”
“I think the message was a knife in my back, and since that hasn’t worked out, you’re trying to save your own throat. That’s what I think.”
“No, you have it all wrong. I genuinely have a message.”
“Well, spit it out while you still have your vocal cords intact.”
“The Colonel wants you to come back. Things just aren’t the same without you there. He’s even willing to overlook the fact that you killed Nate.”
“Kill Nate!”
“I didn’t kill Nate. I sent his horse back to the Riders, but I didn’t kill him. He stabbed my partner in the back. Unfortunately for him, he did a sloppy job of it. My partner didn’t die quickly, and Nate took a bullet from him just before they both died.
As for going back to the Dark Riders, that won’t be happening for either of us. Get on your feet. There’s a jail cell waiting with your name on it.”
Richard disarmed the man and exchanged his knife for a pistol. Keeping the barrel pressed against Tom’s back, they walked out into the street and headed toward the sheriff’s office. It was the middle of the night, but music still drifted from the saloon, and a few men lingered out front. The sheriff’s office was on the same side as the saloon, so he wouldn’t have to worry about passing them by. As he reached the office, a dim light shone through the window. Richard marched Tom through the front door.
|
Click the Buy Me a Coffee button below to find out how you can help support this site. Thank you. |
Please Share this Website
Add this site to your social media pages by using the social media buttons below. Your friends will thank you for it.
Deep in the Oregon wilderness, a hidden staircase rises from the forest floor—steps leading to a previously unknown portal. On the other side can be found a society eerily similar to our own—Where darkness has been disguised as light, and true freedom has been hidden from the masses. <Read it Here For FREE>
A full length novel by Scott A. Gese
The day Sarah McKinney finally escaped the clutches of her abusive husband, she and her adopted son, Jason, began a perilous journey and a new life on the run. The future hangs in the balance as their unhappy past and the man they left behind threatens to catch up with them.
Our Top Five Most Read Articles/Short Stories for the Month of May
(and Five From the File)
<HERE>
Newest Article
Struggling With Balance Issues Could Become a Downfall for Older Adults
RDNE Stock Project/PexelsAs we age, maintaining balance becomes increasingly vital to our overall well-being. While mental and emotional balance is essential for a fulfilling retirement lifestyle, physical balance plays a crucial role in staying active, independent, and injury-free.<Read The Full Article Here>
Newest Short Story
An Altered Reality
By Scott A. Gese
Anton Darius/UnsplashA young man thinks he has special powers. He never learns the truth.<Read The Full Story Here>
Newest Classic Film
Shadow of a Doubt
(1943) American psychological thriller film noir directed by Alfred Hitchcock, and starring Teresa Wright and Joseph Cotten.
A charming uncle, a suspicious ring, and a trail of dead widows. Charlie must uncover the truth—before the killer in her home makes her his next victim.