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Dark Riders
Chapters Ten, Eleven and Twelve
Scott A.. Gese
Dark Riders
Chapter Ten
“I have a customer for you, deputy,” called Richard as he entered the office. Not recognizing the voice, Deputy Wheeler jumped up from his chair, instinctively grabbing the handle of his revolver. When he saw it was Richard, he relaxed his grip.
Noticing the gun pressed to the back of the man accompanying Richard, he asked as they stepped into the office, “Who is this, and when did you start making arrests?”
“Ever since this hombre tried to kill me,” retorted Richard.
“Well, I certainly don’t know this man, but then I hardly know you, so why should I take your word for it?” replied the deputy.
Tom spoke up, wholeheartedly agreeing with the deputy. “Yeah! That’s right, I didn’t do anything worth being locked up for. Since when is it a crime to dislike something? He pulled a gun on me and said he was going to teach me a lesson just because I made some offhanded remark about his horse. He isn’t the law.”
“Well, this puts me in a predicament, doesn’t it?” stated Deputy Wheeler.
“I’ll tell you what,” replied Richard. “You hold him here for now, and I’ll go get the sheriff. We can sort this all out then. Will that work for you?”
“I don’t like the idea of locking a man up for something you say he’s done, but the sheriff will come down hard on me if I don’t. I’ll go so far as to hold him for one hour,” replied the deputy. “But if you aren’t back by then, I’m turning him loose.”
“Fair enough,” answered Richard. “In the meantime, I have three words of advice for you: ‘Keep your distance.’ If you get close enough for him to grab you, you’re a dead man.”
Tom objected forcefully. “Now wait just a minute here. What do you mean fair? This is exactly what he wants. Just because I called his horse the son-of-satin, I’m going to be locked up for an hour? Now listen here, son, if you lock me up for that, I won’t wait for the sheriff. I’ll be all over you.”
“First of all,” replied Wheeler, “I’m not your son. Secondly, if you think the sheriff will come down on me for taking this precaution, you don’t know the sheriff. And thirdly, I don’t think I have much to worry about from a skinny runt like you.”
The deputy ensured the man had no weapons, then led him into the cell and locked the door behind him.
Richard left the office with a reminder to the deputy: “Keep your distance.” He then headed out the door and down the street to fetch the sheriff.
Richard knew Tom didn’t come alone; his partner was likely waiting for him just outside of town, probably hiding in the same small group of trees where he had demonstrated his shooting skills to the sheriff. Richard was fairly certain his every move had been observed and that Tom’s partner would be coming for the jailed man soon. He quickened his pace to reach the sheriff and return to the office before it was too late.
***
As Deputy Wheeler prepared to make his late evening rounds, the back door suddenly burst open. A man dressed in black quickly stepped inside, gun drawn. The deputy, quick on his feet, instinctively dove for cover behind the sheriff’s heavy oak desk. He drew his weapon and, peering around the corner, fired a shot, hitting the intruder square in the stomach. The man returned fire, knocking the gun from the deputy’s hand. He moved around the desk where the deputy was hiding and fired another round, hitting him in the side before he doubled over. Clutching the desk with a bloody hand, he straightened himself up.
Tom cried out from behind the bars, “Richard went after the sheriff. They’ll be back any minute.”
Grabbing the keys from the desktop, the deputy flung them toward Tom and dropped to the floor in agonizing pain.
Tom caught the keys and quickly opened the cell door. Reaching his partner, he realized there wasn’t much he could do for him.
“Get out of here, Tom. I’ve been gut-shot and I’m in pretty bad shape.” Breathing heavily and spitting up blood as he spoke, he continued, “If I can hold out, I’ll take care of Richard when he comes back with the sheriff.”
Tom didn’t argue. Grabbing his guns and knife from the hook where the deputy had placed them, he quickly slipped out the open back door, where two black horses stood waiting. Untying them both, he mounted one while throwing the reins across the neck of the other. Knowing the horse would follow, Tom vanished into the night.
***
“No need to apologize for coming by so late, Richard,”
exclaimed Sheriff McBride. “If this fella is out to rob the town
bank, I want to talk to him. And don’t worry about Deputy Wheeler;
he can take care of himself. I wired the marshal up in Grafton this
afternoon. Turns out he knows quite a bit about these Dark Riders and
is eager to speak with you. I’m sure he’ll have a question or two
for this Tom fella as well.”
Richard wondered how the marshal from Grafton could know so much about the Dark Riders. When he was with them, they always kept to the shadows and never drew attention to themselves. But he had been out of the mix for over two years now, and from what he could gather, they were becoming increasingly careless and undisciplined. He hoped the marshal wouldn’t hold his past association with the Dark Riders against him.
As Sheriff McBride and Richard entered the office, they were startled by what they saw.
“What the hell!” exclaimed the sheriff.
The back door and the cell door were both wide open, and two men were lying on the floor. They quickly checked them both. The man dressed in black was dead, while the deputy was still alive, but barely.
“Go get the doc,” ordered the sheriff as he tended to his man.
Richard dashed out the door, heading to the doctor’s house before McBride's words had fully left his mouth.
“What the heck happened here, deputy?” asked the sheriff. “No, don’t say a word. Save your strength. There’ll be plenty of time for questions later.”
Within minutes, Richard returned with the doctor right on his heels.
“What do we have here, sheriff?” inquired the doctor.
“My deputy has a pretty good hole in his side, and this other one is dead.” Turning his attention to Richard, he asked, “Do you know this man?”
Richard took a closer look. “His name is Henry Ashton.”
“Is he one of the men who was planning to rob the bank?”
“My guess is that this man and the one who tried to kill me were planning to rob the bank, but they needed to get me out of the way first. I foiled their plan when one of them ended up behind bars.”
Chapter Eleven
“Excuse me, boys,” interjected the Doc. “I need the two of you to move this man over to my office. He should pull through just fine, but I need to remove that bullet, and I’m not about to do it here on the floor.”
Sheriff McBride and Richard carried Deputy Wheeler to the Doc’s office and laid him on a table for treatment.
The sheriff was in an angry mood. “I’m heading back to the office. You meet me there first thing in the morning. As soon as the marshal shows up, the three of us are going to have a little chat about what the hell is going on around here.”
Glad to be out of the sheriff’s shouting range, Richard headed for the livery to see if he could get a few hours of sleep before returning to the sheriff’s office. McBride was in a foul mood, and rightly so. Richard just hoped his mood would change by morning, as he was concerned that wrong conclusions might be drawn about his past association with the Dark Riders. Needless to say, Richard's few hours of sleep were far from peaceful.
At first light, Richard returned to the sheriff’s office and nervously stepped inside. To his surprise, the marshal was already there. He and Sheriff McBride were in the middle of a discussion but stopped abruptly as Richard entered the room. Both men stood up as McBride made the introduction.
“Richard, this is Marshal Winston McKee, an old friend of mine. Winston, this is the man I was telling you about, Richard Cole. Pull up a chair, Richard. We’ve got some things to discuss.”
Richard, still unsure of what to expect, grabbed another chair and set it up by the desk.
“Mind if I pour myself a cup of coffee before I sit down?”
“Help yourself.”
After pouring a cup of coffee, Richard took a seat. “I stopped by the doctor’s office on my way over, hoping to check on Deputy Wheeler. The doc says he’ll be fine after a few weeks of rest.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” replied the sheriff. “I planned on visiting him myself a little later. Wheeler's a good man.”
After some small talk, the marshal got down to business, and the question Richard dreaded most was the first one out of his mouth.
“So, Richard, the sheriff here tells me you were once associated with a group called the Dark Riders. What can you tell me about that?”
Richard took a nervous sip of his coffee and spent the better part of an hour recounting every detail of his association with the Dark Riders, from the very first time he met Colonel Winslow to the present day. He left nothing out.
“That’s quite a story, Cole,” the marshal said after a brief silence, finishing a few notes in his notepad. “Do you really expect me to believe all of it, including your claim that you are innocent of any crimes committed by this band of outlaws?”
“You can believe what you want to, marshal. I stand by my story.”
“I’ve reviewed your military records, Cole. What I found is that you were honorably discharged after your term of service. There’s no mention of you being part of any Dark Riders unit. In fact, there’s no record of a Dark Riders unit at all.”
“It’s as I told you, marshal; the unit was top secret. It doesn’t surprise me that you can’t find any record of it.”
“Well, to be perfectly honest, I’ve come across enough ‘unofficial’ evidence to confirm that a Dark Riders unit did exist during the war. In fact, I’ve learned quite a bit about the Dark Riders—enough to know you’re telling the truth. And more than that, I can tell you exactly where these men are at this very moment.”
I expect that since their plan to rob the bank has been foiled, they’ll be in a hurry to leave the territory. I’ve been assigned to a special government task force to bring this renegade outfit to a final close. I could use the help of a man like you, if you’re interested.”
“If you think you can take these men on with just me and a few locals, you’re seriously underestimating the skills of this unit,” replied Richard.
“I’m fully aware of what these men are capable of,” countered Marshal McKee. “My plan has been in the works for over a year. It’s well thought out, and we won’t be operating alone. I have people positioned to take this unit down… from the inside if necessary.”
This revelation from Marshal McKee took Richard by surprise. “How?” was all he could manage to say.
“That’s not for you to know at this time,” replied the marshal. “Just take my word for it. We will take them down today, and, as I said, from the inside if necessary. Are you in?”
Richard could hardly believe it. This was exactly what he had been hoping for, and now it was falling right into his lap. “Yes, I’m in. What do you want me to do?”
The plan was already in place; all Marshal McKee had to do was brief Richard on what was expected of him.
That afternoon, Richard, Marshal McKee, and Sheriff McBride rode south to a rendezvous point well outside of town and into the desert. As they approached a small group of boulders, Richard noticed several riders on the far side.
“You two wait here,” ordered the marshal. “Those are my men. I’ll introduce you in due time.”
Richard and Sheriff McBride pulled up and waited as McKee rode ahead. After receiving an update and going over some last-minute details with his men, Marshal McKee signaled for Richard and the sheriff to come forward. As they reached the group, they dismounted, and Marshal McKee introduced them. Richard observed that some of the men carried Sharps Breech-Loaders.
As the handshakes circulated, a gruff-looking kid, a good head taller than Richard, grabbed his hand and pulled him in close. Looking down at Richard with an intimidating grin, he spoke in a voice laced with contempt. “So, you’re the ‘ex’ Dark Rider we were told about. I heard nobody escaped that outfit alive. How did you manage it, and how can we be sure you’re not still one of them? Give us one good reason to trust you.”
Marshal McKee stepped in. “That’s enough from you, Jake. I trust him, and that should be more than good enough for you. Now get on with your assignment…and keep your head down.”
Jake released Richard’s hand with an angry thrust and moved out with the rest of the men.
Chapter Twelve
Once the men had moved out to take their positions, Marshal McKee met with Richard and the sheriff to explain what was about to unfold and what was expected of them.
“Here’s where we stand,” he began. “A couple of my men have been shadowing this gang for a full day now. They know we’re here, but I don’t believe they know how many of us there are. So far, they haven’t felt threatened enough to send out scouts, and we’re taking advantage of their complacency. They holed up last night at an abandoned line shack about half a mile from here. They have Winslow and his mistress, a Miss Alton, with them. They also have that black carriage in tow.”
“This isn’t their ordinary routine, Marshal,” Richard replied. “The carriage should be leaving the area, and the men who were supposed to rob the bank would typically catch up to it. They’d ride hard for a couple of days, and by the time anyone discovered the bank had been robbed, they would be out of the territory. Tom must have informed them that the robbery had been foiled, so they may think there’s no need to hurry. My guess is they know exactly where we are and how many men you have with you. Most likely, a couple of men dropped back during the night, before reaching the shack. They’ll try to get behind us and take the high ground. They’re all expert riflemen, and they carry Sharps breech loaders.”
The marshal gave Richard a wry smile. “My men carry breech loaders as well, and we already hold the high ground. You’re right about them dropping back; we took care of that situation last night. They believe they have men moving up behind us when, in fact, they don’t. Once we’re in position, we won’t hesitate to put an end to the Dark Riders once and for all. Mount up; we need to move out; we have our own position to cover.”
The three men mounted their horses and rode to a spot just below a slight rise, where they dismounted and tied the horses. They continued on foot to a vantage point overlooking the encampment. It consisted of little more than an old shack and the carriage. Several horses were tied along the backside, and the carriage was hitched and ready to move. No men could be seen, but Richard's experience told him that not every man was in the shack and that their every movement was being watched and noted. This knowledge put him on edge and kept him acutely aware of his surroundings.
As the men observed the encampment, a puff of smoke appeared at one of the carriage windows, followed by the sound of a single shot. Richard mentally noted the sound as that of a breech loader.
“Damn it!” cursed Marshal McKee. “I told those men to keep their heads down. The first shot should have been ours. Let’s move in.”
The three men stayed low as they maneuvered to a position where they could enter the encampment from the rear. Several more shots rang out as the engagement intensified.
Moving from their position may have been their saving grace. As soon as they began to shift toward their new location, they were surprised by two Dark Riders approaching. The men hadn’t expected to encounter anyone at that moment. Their hesitation was no match for Richard’s heightened awareness, quick thinking, and lightning-fast draw. He took down the lead man before either Dark Rider had a chance to draw their weapon. The second Dark Rider fired a shot, hitting the sheriff in the shoulder. Marshal McKee returned fire and dropped the second man in his tracks.
Fortunately, the sheriff wasn’t seriously wounded and was able to continue toward the shack with the others.
Most of McKee’s men were advancing from the front, while the rest remained in high positions to provide cover with their breech-loaders. By the time McKee and the others reached the shack, the fight was nearly over. The Dark Riders had been decimated.
Just as the men prepared for their final assault on the shack, a single shot rang out from inside. McKee kicked the door open, and all three men rushed in, only to find Rebecca Alton standing over the body of Colonel Winslow, the gun in her hand still smoking.
“He was about to put a bullet in your head, Marshal,” she said.
“Well, I appreciate your taking care of that situation for me, Miss Alton,” he replied.
“My pleasure,” she said, staring down at the lifeless body. “The man was a pig.” She looked up. “Well, hello there, Richard. It’s been a while. It seems you were the only smart one of the bunch. After you took your leave, half the men were envious, the other half nervous… and all of them afraid of the Colonel.”
Looking back at the marshal, she asked, “I held up my end of the bargain. Will you hold up yours?”
“I’m a man of my word. You’re free to go, Miss Alton.” He then walked outside to get a report from his men.
Rebecca dropped the gun to the floor and moved closer to Richard. “Don’t look so surprised. The Colonel used us all, and I was just as tired of it as you were; only I didn’t have the luxury or the nerve to walk away. Now, neither of us will need to constantly look over our shoulders. Enjoy the rest of your life, Richard. I plan to enjoy mine.” She walked out the door, followed by Richard and the sheriff.
After checking on the condition of his men, the marshal ordered them to load the bodies of the Dark Riders into the carriage for transport back to town.
The scene resembled a funeral procession as the black carriage, pulled by six black horses, rolled down Main Street with several riderless black stallions in tow. A crowd quickly gathered as the bodies were unloaded and laid out in front of the livery, which also served as the town’s funeral parlor.
As Richard watched the bodies of the men he had once served with and counted as friends being unloaded from the carriage, he couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of loss. These men had once been his family, and now he was the only one left. He felt alone.
While he stood there, someone grabbed his arm. Turning his attention away from the Dark Riders, he saw Wendy. Her long black hair was tied back, and a big smile graced her beautiful face. She stretched up and kissed Richard on the cheek. “Welcome back. Please stay,” she said.
Just then, Sheriff McBride approached Richard. “Excuse me for interrupting, ma’am, but I need to ask this young man a very important question. Since I have a wounded shoulder and my deputy is also recovering from a bullet wound, I need a good man to help around here for a while. What do you say to taking on some of that responsibility?”
Richard put one arm around Wendy and, with the other, reached for the sheriff’s outstretched hand. With a hearty shake, he agreed. “You have a deal, Sheriff; I think I’ll stay.”
The End
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