on Jack’s chest. His fingers pressed around on his ribs and stomach, checking for internal injuries.
“How’s he doing Doc?” Big Jon knelt down next to his deputy.
“He’s lost a little blood Jon, but I don’t think they hit any vital organs. The bullet passed clear through his side; he should be okay.” The doc took the stethoscope from around his neck and stuffed it back in the bag.
Jon leaned down and laid his big hand gently on his friend’s shoulder. “Doc says you’re going to be okay, so hang tough, Partner. I’m going after the sidewinder that shot you directly, so do what the doc tells you, okay?”
Jack nodded, too weak to talk.
Jon stood up and spoke to the store owner, “What happened here Bill?’
“A couple of… a…a bad apples tried to rob the store and then they shot Jack here when he…a... came to help!” The store owner was very upset, still very much shaken by the sight of Deputy Malone taking a bullet to the chest.
“Just calm down a little Bill and give me as many details as you can,” Jon said calmly.
“Sorry Jon.” Bill took a deep breath went on. “These two culprits have been working a claim on the edge of the canyon for the past several months. Poor old Will Harmon’s claim, the one he was working when he was murdered. Everybody told them that the claim was burnt out, but they wouldn’t listen. They bought them an outfit and went to work. The vein went bust after awhile. They owed money to a lot of people here in town, including me. I told them they could pay me so much a week, but that didn’t work out. So I cut them off the other day and told them not to come back until they paid their bill. When they came in the store today, I refused to sell them anything and they got real mean. One of ‘em pulled a Derringer out of his inside vest pocket and put it to my head, while the other one went around the store throwing stuff in a canvas bag.” Bill stopped for a minute to collect his thoughts.
“What happened next?” Jon pulled out his Army Colts and spun the cylinders to be sure they were fully loaded.
“I started yelling at the varmint who was stealing all of my stuff. Someone heard the commotion and went and got Deputy Malone. When Jack ran over to see what was going on, the lowlife who was holding the gun to my head let Jack have it point blank. I yelled and he hit me over the head with the butt of his gun. I fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes. I been seeing stars ever since. One of my customers told me they threw all the stuff they took on a pack horse and high tailed it out of town.”
“They won’t get far,” Jon promised.
“I don’t know, Jon; the customer told me they took a whole lot of bacon, flour and jerky. I think they’re planning on doing some serious travelin’.”
“Thanks for the info Bill, are you okay?”
“Yea, I’m going to be fine, got a sore head, that’s all,” Bill said as he rubbed the back of his bald head.
Jon turned his attention to the crowd of onlookers. “Let’s all go home now, folks, Jack’s going to be okay. No use hanging around here.” People grumbled as the crowd began to slowly break up. Libby came close to Jon and laid her hand on his shoulder. He smiled at her as his eyes squinted into the sun.
“Promise me you won’t take any unnecessary chances out there Jon, promise me,” Libby exhorted her lover. “You’ve got more than just yourself to worry about now!”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little face Libby, I’m going to be fine,” Jon said confidently as he yanked the billet straps tight and loosened the bridle a might on his faithful companion, Babe. “I hate to rush off Darlin’, but I’ve got to catch a couple of varmints who have a pretty good head start on me. I’m going to grab some supplies and go after them right away. I’d like to catch them before dark if I can.”
“Godspeed,” Libby said quietly, trying to control her emotions. She knew that when the lead started flying, someone could get maimed or killed - even a man like Jon. That’s what tormented her.
Jon smiled and winked at her as he hurried up the rickety stairs to the general store. He grabbed several strips of jerky, a few cans of beans, a bag of flour and a few canteens of water off the shelves and arms full, he quickly left the store. Ed had rushed down to the livery stable and was waiting out front with Babe. Jon quickly stuffed the goods in his leather saddle bags and mounted his anxious steed; he stopped for a moment and spoke to Ed.
“Malone’s down. Ed, you need to stay here and mind the store. I can take care of these two lowlifes myself.”
“If you say so, Boss,” Ed said disappointedly. “But be careful. Someone said the older one is Zing Fuller, a gunman from down Pecos way.
“Thanks Ed; I’ve heard of him,” Jon replied as Babe leaped forward to begin his pursuit of the shooters. He glanced down at the fresh tracks heading south from town toward the Gila River. “Let’s go girl!” He spurred Babe on, anxious to make up for lost time. He hoped to catch the culprits before dawn, but the winter sun was setting fast in the reddish-gray sky. He had to hurry.
As he rode along, the trail suddenly curved and dropped down a steep bank toward Black Rock Creek, a small tributary that had splintered off of the Gila. Jon moved quickly, but carefully, down the sharp incline. At level ground, Jon spurred the big mare forward toward the creek which was slightly swollen by recent rains. He pulled up suddenly.
“Whoa girl, whoa!” Jon shouted. Babe reared up and pushed backward with her hind legs, her front hoofs knifed into the muddy bank. Hoofs slipping, she climbed up the bank to level ground.
“Okay girl, it’s okay,” Jon said softly, as Babe pranced nervously. Jon quickly examined the tracks leading to the stream.
“Looks like an old Indian trick to me, girl.”
The tracks had taken a sharp turn to the east just before entering the stream. This should indicate that the savvy varmints had gone into the creek and then traveled east, but upon closer examination, Jon eyed a deep hoof print just above the water line on the opposite side of the creek. “That print’s pushing west; they turned on us and went west. Let’s get after ‘em!”
Jon rode rapidly alongside the creek looking desperately for any evidence of the lowlifes that shot his friend, Jack Malone. After a while, the desert ironwoods, creosote bushes, and cat claws were growing thick along the bank of the creek.
“The brush is getting too thick, we’re going to have to go in,” Jon whispered. Babe whinnied as he prodded her into the stream.
Neigh! Neigh! Babe suddenly reared up, almost throwing Jon off; a spotted Gila monster slithered up the muddy bank. Jon patted Babe’s neck and continued on. The creek began to narrow and the bushes got thicker as Jon struggled forward in the icy creek. Soon he was in a darkened, eerie, tunnel-like space. He was surrounded by thick brush on one side and a steep incline of slippery boulders on the other. It seemed like forever until a sliver of light appeared up ahead signaling the end of the shadowy channel. Jon picked the twigs and stickers off his brown felt hat and denim shirt, tossed them aside and continued on.
“Let’s find that sunshine,” Jon whispered. He rode toward the light and then pulled up. Babe’s ears pricked as she pranced in the gurgling stream. She was warning her master. Jon listened closely; he could hear men’s voices off in the distance.
“It
