The Rider of Phantom Canyon (8 page)

He did not wait for an answer, but said, “Out to the shed, Joshua,” grabbing the leather razor strop off the wall.

Before he gave him his swats, he said, “If you point and cock a gun at an animal or a person, son, you shoot, and you do not miss. One bullet, one hit.”

Joshua Strongheart never forgot those words—“One bullet, one hit”—and subconsciously touched his rear end every time he recalled the quote.

Dan never said words of sentiment or affection, nor did he praise Joshua, but a look of approval from him made Joshua's day. The man sure did teach the young lad how to fight with his hands and his pistol and rifle, but more importantly, with his head.

Strongheart thought about how relatively easy he was being on Scottie, and Scottie was thinking about how heavy the rock was and how ashamed of himself he was. Joshua gave him the rock and warning, but said nothing else. He did not need to. Scottie was beating himself up, because he had already ignored rule number one. He had not checked and cleared his weapon when Joshua handed it to him. He told himself that he would never, ever forget that again.

When they got back to the camp, Strongheart told Scottie he could put the rock down. Scottie dropped it and was so relieved. He realized he was drenched with sweat and both of his arms and his right shoulder were
aching like crazy. The teenager slept the sleep of the dead and awakened in the morning with his arm really aching. He spent several days in the mountain camp, learning how to shoot his new weapon, draw, fire, and hit the target he was aiming at.

On the fifth day, the two were practicing quick draw, and Strongheart stood to Scottie's left front, very close. It made Scottie uncomfortable. He looked at the target Strongheart had selected, waiting to draw and fire if his mentor yelled, “Draw!”

Joshua explained, “Scottie, if you plan to be a Pinkerton or a lawman, you have to realize that at some point you might get shot. If you do, it is especially important that you still draw, fire, and hit the man who is trying to kill you.”

Scottie said, “Yes, sir.”

Suddenly, Strongheart yelled, “Draw!”

Scottie drew immediately and suddenly Strongheart's fist hit him hard in the stomach, throwing him backward and knocking the wind out of him while folding him like a suitcase. He lay on the ground, unable to regain his breath, and was starting to panic. He heard Joshua yelling, “Fire! Fire!” and drew and shot twice, hitting the knot on the tree Strongheart selected with both rounds. Then he holstered his gun and tried hard to gain his breath.

Joshua snarled, “Reload immediately!”

Still panicking as he tried to breathe, Scottie ejected his two empty shells and put two more into the revolver.
His eyes were wide open in sheer panic, and Strongheart felt for him. He'd had the wind knocked out of him before and that panicky feeling was no fun, but he had to be a harsh taskmaster. This was very serious business.

He quickly said, “Stand up fast, even if you're scared.”

Scottie complied, and Joshua said, “Now jump up in the air and come down hard on your heels with your legs straight.”

Scottie jumped up and came down with a jarring thud, knees locked, and landed on his heels. He was amazed! He could breathe! Just a second before, he was almost ready to cry, he was so panicked.

Joshua clapped him on the shoulder with pride and said, “Come look at this.”

They walked to the tree with the knot that Joshua had picked out as a target. He pulled out a silver dollar and placed it over the two bullet holes that were almost dead center in the knot. The coin covered both holes. Scottie looked at it, and Joshua handed him the silver dollar.

He said, “Keep this dollar always and remember what you did. Shooting like that can keep you alive.”

Scottie's shoulders went back, and his chin jutted out a little. His whole body ached from the work and tough training Strongheart had been giving him this week, but he felt like he was starting to become a man. He touched his stomach. It was sore where he had gotten
punched, but he knew a bullet in the gut could make him a lot more sore, and he would remember well this new lesson.

There was a small herd of pronghorns that ran back and forth between these large scattered patches of high-mountain meadows. The pair was walking back to camp and rounded the bend of one patch of trees and came upon ten pronghorns bedded down in the mountain grasses twenty yards away. The herd jumped up and five started running, while the other five stared at the two in shock, ready to flee. Strongheart drew, fanning his gun, and shot a small antelope as the others fled. It rolled over once and was dead.

They walked toward the downed animal and Joshua said, “Have you ever eaten antelope?”

Scottie said, “No, sir.”

The tall Pinkerton agent said, “It is the best eating there is outside of mountain lion.”

“Mountain lion?” Scottie said.

Joshua replied, “Yes. Stop and think about it. They only eat deer just about, and are very finicky. After a few days they leave it to bears or coyotes and go on and kill another one. Mountain lion is delicious.”

They arrived at the young antelope's body. Joshua knelt down, drawing out his knife. He closed his eyes.

Scottie said, “Were you praying?”

“Sort of,” Joshua explained. “You know, I am half Sioux, so when I was your age, I learned to speak to an
animal's spirit after I have killed it, to thank it for providing me with food, and to tell it I will not waste any of its body.”

Scottie thought about this a minute and was impressed.

He said, “Gosh. Mr. Strongheart, I . . .”

Joshua said, “Call me Joshua, not
Mister
.”

“Yes, sir,” the teen said. “I never thought of anything like that. That is kinda neat.”

Strongheart replied, “Well, I think the important message to get from that is to never kill an animal just to kill. Kill them for food and do not waste any of the meat, and use the hide and antlers wherever and whenever you can.”

The lad had learned yet another lesson this day.

Strongheart quickly and efficiently field dressed the pronghorn and said, “Okay, son. Pick it up and let's take it back to camp. We will eat well tonight and relax. Tomorrow, we'll head back to Cañon City.”

Joshua made them a delicious meal and both had steaming cups of coffee. The teenaged young man could not believe how good the antelope tasted. He felt it was probably the best meat he had ever eaten, although his Aunt Kathy's meatloaf was a close second.

While they ate apple cobbler Strongheart made with flour and apple slices Aunt Kathy had given him and drank coffee, Scottie said, “Mister, I mean, Joshua, do you know any neat stories from the Injuns?”

Strongheart finished his cobbler, took a long sip of
coffee, and said, “I'll tell you in the manner of the way my father's people tell a story. There was a young Lakota boy named Dancing Hare, and his first cousin and best friend was named Boy Who Climbs Trees. Dancing Hare and Boy Who Climbs Trees were both very adventurous, and both were students at the Mission School. While attending the school, Dancing Hare became very excited about the white man he met, who was called a missionary. He liked what the man spoke about, and what the missionary said made perfect sense to him. After some months, Dancing Hare became a Christian, but his cousin and best friend, Boy Who Climbs Trees, remained true to his tribal beliefs and was indeed a true follower of Wakan Tanka, the Great Mystery.

“The religion of choice did not matter to each boy, and they respected each other's differences and opinions. What they really enjoyed more than anything was adventure. They could not wait to grow and hunt game for the family circles and fight in battles and count coup. Both hoped someday to become Dog Soldiers, the best of the best warriors in their tribe.”

“What does
count coup
mean?” Scottie interjected.

Joshua smiled and said, “To make it simple, with my father's people, after touching a live enemy in battle or after some heroic deed is performed, like hunting and killing a grizzly bear, that is considered a battle honor. It is called counting coup. When you count coup, or perform a courageous act, you are awarded an eagle feather.”

“Oh,” the lad replied enthusiastically.

Strongheart continued with his story. “There was one major difference, though, and that was that Dancing Hare always believed in winning and would never admit defeat. Once, when wrestling with Fights the Badger, he would not give in when put in a painful hold and actually had two of his fingers broken, but would not quit and would not cry. Boy Who Climbs Trees, however, would give in easily in games and wanted to give up and do something else if he started losing.

“One day, the two boys decided to hunt coyotes far away from the safety of the tribal circle of teepees, their neighborhood. Dancing Hare, while they moved through a wooded draw, heard a strange noise and held up his hand. Then they saw them, a band of Pawnees wearing war paint and carrying many weapons. The boys were afraid and knew they must hide in a safe place, but where?

“Boy Who Climbs Trees said, ‘We will be killed or captured!'

“Dancing Hare said, ‘No, we will not. Do not give up so easily,' but while he ran, he prayed harder than ever before.

“Finally, he spotted a cave ahead and ran into it, followed by his whimpering friend. Dancing Hare discovered another cave entrance. It was actually shaped like a horseshoe, with two holes opening in the side of a draw. They hid inside and saw the Pawnee war party far off, studying their tracks, which they had tried to hide.

“Then they saw a mighty bear startled by all the commotion run out of the trees and straight toward them. It headed right at the cave, and Boy Who Climbs Trees yelled, ‘Run! He will eat us!'

“Dancing Hare said, ‘No, stay put and do not move. If you run, the Pawnees will surely catch you.'

“The bear ran into the cave and turned to face in the direction of the danger behind him. He lay down. At the same time, crying, Boy Who Climbs Trees ran as fast as he could out the other cave entrance. Dancing Hare saw him get captured almost immediately by the band of Pawnees. They looked at the cave entrance, but the leader said they should not bother the mighty bear they saw run into it, or they might be killed. They rode off with their captive tied and bound.

“All good Lakotas bathed often and would keep their hair and skin shiny with bear grease made from bear fat. This smell kept the mighty grizzly calm in the cave, and he did not smell Dancing Hare and did not look around and see Dancing Hare. A few minutes after the Pawnees rode away, the grizzly emerged and ambled away toward the trees.

“Hours later, scared but safe, Dancing Hare trotted toward his village, but looked up at the sky and smiled. He knew then that what many like his cousin Boy Who Climbs Trees would see as nothing but a bad thing turned out to actually be an answer to a prayer, but dressed as something scary. The rest of his life, he would always look for the good news hiding inside the bad news. Now
he would summon the Dog Soldiers to go and rescue his cousin.

“In other words, Scottie, always find something good in any problem you are faced with, and always decide to survive any obstacle.”

Scottie poured himself another cup of coffee and said, “That sure was a neat story. You have any more of them?”

Strongheart grinned and said, “In time.”

By dark the next day, they were back in Cañon City, and Scottie was very relieved to see he was in good shape, although he had a few nicks and bruises showing. More obvious than injuries, though, was the Russian .44 six-shooter he was wearing. His aunt offered Joshua a nice hot dinner, but he refused and went on to the Hot Springs Hotel to relax and take a nice soothing mineral bath that night and the next morning. The next day, he would ride to his modest home south of town in the area called Lincoln Park, but he loved to go to the Hot Springs Hotel at the mouth of the Royal Gorge and had been going there ever since his first days in Cañon City.

The Hot Springs Hotel was at the very west end of River Drive and had a footbridge that crossed the
Arkansas River to the north side of the river where the railroad tracks ran. Passengers could depart and cross the footbridge to the hotel. Directly to the west of the hotel was the mouth of Grape Creek, which ran for well over twenty miles to the Silver Cliff area and the new town of Westcliffe in the Wet Mountain Valley. Beyond it was the east entrance of the Royal Gorge, which had sheer rock walls rising straight up to over 1,100 feet in some places, and it ran for eight miles to Parkdale.

It was daybreak, and Strongheart was up and ready to head to the hot spring when he heard gunshots coming out of the gorge. With the sound of the rapids, he thought this was unusual, but with the solid rock walls and narrow canyon, it was understandable. After soaking up the warmth into his muscular body, he dressed and decided on a leisurely breakfast in the hotel dining room.

Strongheart was enjoying a plate of eggs, steak, potatoes, sliced tomatoes, coffee, and grape juice, followed by rhubarb pie and several cups of hot coffee. He was really savoring this meal after several days up in the mountains eating over a campfire.

Two men walked in, both wearing business suits, picking a table in the far corner of the room. One, wearing a gray derby tilted to the right, looked up at Strongheart, and Joshua felt the man had some of the most piercing, lightest blue eyes he had seen. He wore a full, thick mustache waxed to points at the ends.

The man with him was very slight and pale, and very
sickly looking. He had an even longer mustache, but his, too, came to points at the drooping ends. Early into their conversation, he had a series of coughing fits, but seemed to recover well.

It was he who spoke across the room to Strongheart, with a deep Southern drawl to his voice.

“Suh,” he said, “since we all have enjoyed differing positions in the field of law enforcement, why don't you join us for some light conversation?”

Strongheart smiled and nodded and carried his plate and coffee cup to the table, along with his silverware. He sat down across from the sickly one.

Smiling broadly, he asked, “How would you know I have anything to do with law enforcement, sir?”

“Good question indeed, suh,” the slight man answered. “It is quite obvious you are the very noted half-breed Pinkerton agent who goes by the name of Strongheart. This gentleman is mah friend Bat Masterson, a lawman of some sterling repute, suh.”

Strongheart nodded at Bat and extended his hand.

The slight speaker then said, “I must say, both of you have fine reputations, not only as shootists, but as exceptional lawmen as well.”

Strongheart said, “Are you a lawman, sir?”

The sickly man replied, “Nah, I am a sporting man, but for many years practiced the art of dentistry.”

Strongheart grinned, extending his hand again, saying, “Doc Holliday?”

“Indeed, suh,” he replied. “So, knowing mah name,
you know that I have become an expert of law enforcement operations by nature of the fact that I have been the subject of keen interest by so many lawmen over the years.”

Strongheart chuckled.

Doc Holliday looked over at Bat and said, “Besides killing a demon who stood over two meters tall, and a giant grizzly that was attempting to eat him, this young man, Bat, had a gunfight a few miles from here and killed quite a few men. However, my friend, his heroics resulted in enough bullet holes in his own skin that he could have well been used to water some of the beautiful flowers we have seen around this stately establishment.”

Bat and Joshua chuckled.

Doc added, “On top of that, he hunted down a gang of ne'er-do-wells who stole the wedding ring of a young beautiful widow and hunted each one down until he was able to secure her wedding ring and return it to her, for one reason only: He had given his word that he would.”

Strongheart said, “Do you embarrass everybody that you first meet, Doc?”

Doc Holliday replied, “No, suh, only the ones I have respect for.”

He tipped his hat to Joshua.

Joshua said, “Doc, I cannot believe you know that much about me, yet we have never met.”

“I beg to differ, suh,” Doc Holliday said. “We did meet indeed, several years ago.”

“What?” Strongheart asked. “I would surely remember that, Doc!”

“Well, young man,” the gunfighter and gambler responded, “you seem to have been a bit indisposed at the time.”

Joshua was certainly puzzled now.

He asked, “When was this?”

Looking at Masterson, the retired dentist said, “You see, Bat, my new friend Strongheart here and I have a very dear mutual friend who lives due west of here by the name of Zachariah Banta. He took me to visit poor Mr. Strongheart in a Denver hospital while he lay motionless for days, the result of a very malevolent disagreement with a rather humongous-sized silvertip grizzly bear possessing the disposition of a knife-wielding prostitute I was unfortunately acquainted with in Durango.”

Strongheart said, “I swear! Zach Banta is friends with everybody. He brought you to see me in the hospital when I was knocked out cold?”

Doc tipped his hat again and coughed, a little blood and spittle landing on his chin. He wiped it quickly with a handkerchief.

A waiter walked up and took Joshua's order for some more pie and poured more coffee for the two gunfighters.

Strongheart waited for him to walk away and said, “So what brings you two gentlemen to this part of the country?”

“Well, Joshua,” Bat said, “not
what
, but
who
. We were hired to come here to help out the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railway. You know, they have had a squabble going on with the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad about laying a line through the Royal Gorge here and have been fighting over putting a line over Raton Pass down just across the border.”

The Pinkerton said, “So, who at the railroad actually hired you?”

Doc Holliday said, “Well, suh, we just met with railroad officials, but we were first invited here by a gentleman named V. R. Clinton, who owns quite a spread in the south end of the Wet Mountain Valley and has many properties here and there.”

Strongheart said, “I never met him. What's he look like?”

Bat said, “That's just the thing, Strongheart. We never met him. He sent for us, and some slingers met us in Pueblo, put us in a hotel there, and gave us handsome sums of money as a deposit on our services.”

Joshua knew what services he meant. The man bought their guns.

Doc Holliday said, “I did not much care for his ramrod, a large, disagreeable gent named Big Mouth Schwinn. Please, Mr. Strongheart, don't even ask, suh, how he got the name Big Mouth.”

Joshua chuckled while taking a bite of pie.

Doc went on. “He fancies himself a shootist, but like a typical tin horn, has notches carved on his pistol grips.”

Bat said, “Doc, you want to take that walk while he eats his pie?”

Doc Holliday nodded, and both men stood.

Bat said, “If you'll excuse us a few minutes. We will let you enjoy your pie and coffee, and we had planned to just walk down here by the river and take a look at the mouth of the Royal Gorge.”

“Sure,” Joshua said.

As he watched the two walk out along the riverbank, he thought about how fortuitous it was that their paths had crossed. Both were very famous at the time and would, in later years, became legends of the Old West. Both were very colorful characters, as was Joshua Strongheart, but each in his own way.

Actually, the railroad wanted to hire Bat Masterson to assemble a gang, and he immediately mentioned Doc Holliday, so they asked him to hire the former dentist. Besides Doc, Bat had already contacted Dave Rudabaugh, Ben Thompson, and Mysterious Dave Mather, as well as about seventy others, for his gang. This, however, was all based on the initial contact from V. R. Clinton, who said he was representing the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railway.

Bat was a lawman and gunfighter from Kansas who worked with and was a good friend of Wyatt Earp. He was born in Canada on November 26, 1853, but moved with his family south. When he was around twenty years old, Bat and his brother started working as buffalo hide hunters, and Bat also worked as a cavalry scout. After
that, he became a lawman in Kansas, where he and Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday became friends. His brother was shot and killed in Kansas and died in Bat's arms.

So now what would become known as the “Colorado Railroad War,” or the “Royal Gorge Railroad War,” was actually already being fought in small squabbles and skirmishes and in court between the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railway and the smaller Denver and Rio Grande company. Actually, in 1878, the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe was competing against the Denver and Rio Grande to put the first line through Raton Pass. Both railroads had lines to Trinidad in southernmost Colorado, and the pass was the only access to continue on to New Mexico. Unlike many of the Rocky Mountain passes, Raton Pass actually barely rose much higher than Trinidad, but the area became very wooded and was teeming with elk, bears, and mule deer. Above and below that area, the terrain was more semiarid, with a lot of small hills covered with sagebrush, some small scrub oaks, and typical vegetation for southern Colorado. Directly to the west, the Sangre de Cristo mountain range, which was twenty miles or so south and west of where Strongheart was, was much closer to Raton Pass, which actually went through the outstretched eastern foothills of the range that extended into New Mexico.

Because of the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe hiring Bat Masterson in 1878, and hiring many other shootists,
the Denver and Rio Grande was forced to give up the fight over Raton Pass to them. Then, in 1879, a silver strike in Leadville at the headwaters of the mighty Arkansas River, up above ten thousand feet in elevation, renewed the rivalry. Both companies were competing to put their line through the magnificent Royal Gorge. The Denver and Rio Grande hired a large band of gunfighters, too.

First using V. R. Clinton, in March of 1879, the railroad hired Bat Masterson to put together his large group of gunmen. This was when he brought in Doc and the others. Strongheart sipped his coffee and thought about the slender gambler and gunfighter.

When John—Doc's given name—was a teenager growing up in Georgia, his mother died of consumption, which was actually tuberculosis. His father remarried very shortly after, and Doc's life was turned upside down. He developed quite a temper. He also was close to his adopted Mexican brother, who came down with tuberculosis, and after a few years, Doc did, too.

He attended the Pennsylvania College of Dental Surgery, graduating in 1872, and opened his dental practice in Atlanta and had a few shooting scrapes with nobody getting hurt. Doc consulted a number of doctors and was told he had only a short time to live and was strongly encouraged to move out West to a drier climate. In October 1873, Doc Holliday moved to Dallas, Texas, and spent some time there. However, he continued to practice his quick draw and with his knife and still
possessed his wicked temper, so he had a few shooting scrapes.

Just a few steps ahead of Texas Rangers, soldiers, and lawmen, he moved to Colorado in 1876 after several stops in Texas and several dead bodies. He lived in Pueblo, Leadville, Georgetown, and Central City, leaving three more bodies in those cities. The fact that he was dying gave him an almost suicidal bent when it came to gunfights. Because of his high intelligence, the doctor was a natural at card games and figuring out betting odds. He was also a very good dresser and, when he was not in shootouts, really conducted himself as a refined Southern gentlemen in his speech and mannerisms. All these factors made Doc Holliday a very colorful character with a rapidly growing reputation in the West as a shootist not to be challenged or trifled with.

The two gunfighters returned to the dining room and rejoined Strongheart, drinking a final cup of black coffee. They walked with him toward the door.

“Beautiful country around here,” Bat said, making small talk.

Joshua replied, “I have some bad memories here, but bought a small spread, mainly because I love the climate and have friends here. We get sunshine almost every day all year long and hardly any snow in the winter—not like the snow up in the mountains around here or north or west.”

Doc said, “Suh, we need to be headin' back to Pueblo.
I assume your business has not picked a side in this railroad skirmish?”

Strongheart said, “Not that I know of. Haven't heard.”

“Well, suh, I certainly hope they do not side with the Denver and Rio Grande. I like you and respect you, Joshua Strongheart, and I certainly do not wish to meet you in a hostile disagreement.”

Bat said, “I agree with Doc, Joshua.”

Joshua grinned, saying, “Shakespeare said, ‘Life every man holds dear; but the brave man holds honor far more precious dear than life.' I feel the same toward you gentlemen. I consider you both new friends.”

Doc tipped his hat brim, saying, “Yes, suh. He also said, ‘In a false quarrel there is no true valor.' Let's hope that none of us have picked the wrong side to fight for.”

Joshua grinned. “I am a Pinkerton. As the old saying goes, ‘I ride for the brand.' I go where I am directed to go in my job. If we are pitted against each other, please understand I will still consider both of you with a great deal of respect and admiration.”