Ghost Town
*********
“It’s time someone made a trip to Hawthorne,” announced Ben Cartwright as he
forked a piece of the pancakes from his plate into his mouth.
“Joe’s turn to go,” mumbled Hoss Cartwright without looking up. He picked up a
piece of bacon from his plate and stuck into his mouth.
Joe
Cartwright’s fork froze in mid-air. “My turn!” exclaimed Joe. “How do you figure
that?”
“Well,” answered Hoss as he continued to chew. “I went last time, Adam went the
time before that, and Pa went the time before Adam. So I figure it’s your turn,
little brother.”
Joe
dropped his fork to his plate. “Pa, I can’t go,” said Joe in a slightly
desperate voice. “I’ve got too much to do.”
“There’s nothing that can’t wait,” replied Ben as he continued to eat his
breakfast.
“But, Pa,” said Joe, the desperation in his voice growing. “With Adam in San
Francisco, the work is really piling up. We’ve got those fences to fix, and I’ve
got to check the herd in the south pasture. And we really should start cutting
the hay.”
“All
of that can wait a day or two,” answered Ben firmly. “Our obligation to Andy
Miller takes precedence over everything else.”
“What’s the matter, Joe?” asked Hoss in an innocent voice. “You scared to ride
into Hawthorne? Ain’t nothing there. It’s just an old ghost town.”
“No,
I’m not scared to ride to Hawthorne,” replied Joe. “It’s just that I got other
things
“You know why,” answered Ben patiently. “I’ve told you the story over and over. When I first arrived in this area, I was in a desperate situation. I got lost in the mountains, and the wagon broke down. I was almost out of supplies, and Adam was sick. Hoss was just a baby. I truly thought we would all die in those mountains until Andy came along. He helped me fix the wagon, then led me into Hawthorne. He bought me a load of supplies and lent me a little money. All he asked in return was that I repay the supplies when he needed them."
“But
Pa, that was over 20 years ago!” exclaimed Joe. “We’ve been sending a wagonload
of supplies down to Andy as long as I can remember. Surely the debt has been
paid by now.”
“There was no limit to my debt to Andy,” stated Ben. “That reminds me. Don’t
forget to stop at Bailey’s Trading Post on the way back. You know my deal with
Bailey. I’ll pay for any whiskey or other items Andy has put on his bill there.”
“But
Pa…” Joe started.
“No
buts,” interrupted Ben firmly. He relented a bit as he saw the dismay on Joe’s
face. “Joe,
“You’d think after 20 years, old Andy would get discouraged and give up,”
commented Hoss as he finished his breakfast. “Everyone else left Hawthorne years
ago. There’s no one there by him.”
“Andy is convinced that the vein is still in the mine,” said Ben. “He’ll look
for it until he finds it. And we will give him what he needs to continue to
look. Besides, a wagonload of supplies every few months is scant payment for
what he did for me.”
“It’s not the supplies,” complained Joe. “I wouldn’t mind taking them if it was
just that. But every time I deliver the supplies, I end up having to listen to
Andy’s tales. He goes on and on about when Hawthorne was a boom town. He’s told
me those stories so many times, I can practically repeat them word for word.”
“You’re lucky you just have to listen to his stories,” countered Hoss. “Last
time I was there, he dragged me into that old mine of his. He made me move some
of the heavier rock for him, and then I had to help him hide the entrance. He’s
convinced someone is going to try to jump his claim.” Hoss shook his head. “As
if someone would want that old dead hole of his.”
“I
think living all alone in that old ghost town has made him loony,” Joe remarked.
“Look at the way he’s always fixing up those old buildings. He says he wants the
town to look good when everyone comes back. He’s sure Hawthorne is going to be a
boom town again someday.”
“Well, he does act a bit strange sometimes,” admitted Ben. “But Andy is an old
man. He’s got nothing left except his dream of finding that vein of silver. The
least we can do is let him keep his dream.”
“Yeah, but you’re not the one who’s going to have to listen to him,” grumbled
Joe.
“No
I’m not,” said Ben in a stern voice. “You are. Now listen to me, Joseph. You
will go into Virginia City and pick up a wagonload of supplies, and you will
deliver those supplies to Andy Miller in Hawthorne. And you will listen to his
stories, if he wants to tell them. And you will mind your manners while you
listen. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes
sir,” answered Joe in a discouraged voice. Joe shook his head. “Hawthorne,” he
muttered. “What a boring trip that’s going to be.”
************
Joe
bounced on the seat as the wagon hit yet another rut. As much time as old Andy
spends fixing up that ghost town, thought Joe, you’d think he’d do something
about this road. Joe shook his head, knowing he was just being contrary. He was
aggravated about
By
the time Joe had guided the wagon up to Bailey’s, the day had turned late. Joe
had no desire to drive a wagon full of supplies back down the mountain road full
of ruts and
Joe
stopped the wagon as he came to the crest of the hill on the road leading down
into Hawthorne. He wanted to take a look at the road ahead before starting down
with a fully loaded wagon. He also wanted to steel himself for a day with Andy
Miller. Joe felt a bit guilty about being so irritated about the trip. He knew
that Andy looked forward to the visits from the Cartwrights. It wasn’t the old
man’s fault that Joe’s trip had been so miserable.
For
a minute, Joe looked down on Hawthorne from the top of the hill. Even in its
heyday, Hawthorne hadn’t been much of a town. Twelve buildings, evenly divided
and neatly lined up against each other, made up the town. They had been built on
just about the only flat piece of land in the area, and the back of the
buildings pressed up against the mountains that loomed over the town. There was
only one way in and out of Hawthorne, and that was on the road which ran through
the center of town. Behind each of the buildings was nothing but the solid walls
of the mountains.
The
buildings were all one-story structures, except for the hotel, which had a
second floor. None were very big. Built out of neatly sawed lumber, the
buildings had provided the essential needs of the miners in the area. The store,
saloon, hotel, assay office, stable and other businesses gave the miners what
they needed when they had had to come to town. There were no homes in Hawthorne;
none of the miners had wanted to leave their claims for longer than absolutely
necessary. As the miners left when the silver ran out, the town was abandoned.
Abandoned, that is, by everyone except Andy Miller. He stayed, and in his spare
time, he kept all the buildings in good repair. The town was empty but the
buildings were was solid as the day they were built. Many of the buildings still
had some furniture, fixed up by Andy when he got tired of prospecting for
awhile. Hawthorne had everything it needed to flourish. Everything but people.
Chucking the reins, Joe guided the wagon slowly down the hill. He kept his eyes
glued to the road, making sure he avoided as many of the ruts and rocks as he
could. As Joe drove, he was already thinking about how soon he could leave
Hawthorne. He’d unload the supplies and spend an hour or so with old Andy, then
think of some excuse to have to leave. Joe sighed as he concentrated on the
road. Even an hour with Andy would seem like a long time.
The
ground finally began to level out and Joe looked up at the town ahead. He was
surprised to see some horses tied to the hitching post outside the hotel. It
looked like
Joe
stopped the wagon in front of the general store across from the hotel. He knew
Andy had a funny notion of keeping things in their right place. He lived in the
hotel, and kept his supplies in the store. He did his cooking and ate in the
abandoned restaurant next to the hotel. Andy kept his mule in the stable at the
end of the street. Joe shook his head as he climbed down from the wagon. It was
an odd life old Andy led.
Reluctantly, Joe walked across the wide street to the hotel. As he approached
the door, he could hear a voice sounding angry and insistent. Joe frowned. He
began to wonder who would be visiting Andy. He couldn’t remember ever seeing
anyone else in Hawthorne.
Pushing open the door of the hotel, Joe stepped in side. He had taken no more
than two steps when he felt the gun in his back. Joe instantly raised his hands.
“Smart move, sonny,” said a voice to Joe’s left. He turned his head slightly and
saw a man in a black shirt and dark pants. Two other men were standing near him.
Joe didn’t need to look to know there was someone behind him.
Slowly, Joe turned his head to look into the room, and his eyes widened. At the
back of the room, Andy Miller sat tied to a chair. His hands were pulled behind
him, and two thick ropes wound around his chest. Andy’s face was bruised and
blood trickled from a cut over his eye. His lip was split and swollen. Andy’s
shirt was torn, and from the way the old man was leaning forward against the
ropes, Joe guessed his stomach and ribs were sore.
“Who
are you and what are you doing here?” asked the voice to Joe’s left.
“I’m
just bringing a load of supplies to Andy,” answered Joe slowly, keeping his
hands in the air.
“Too
bad for you,” said the voice again. “Take his gun.”
Joe
felt his gun being pulled out of the holster on his hip. He could still feel the
barrel of the pistol pressed against his back.
“What should I do with him?” said the voice behind Joe.
The man in the black shirt was obviously in charge; Joe heard him giving the orders. “Tie him up next to the old man.”
Joe
felt a hand pushing him roughly forward. He stumbled a bit as he walked across
the room toward Andy. He stopped as he reached the old man and felt the gun in
his back again. Andy looked up at Joe with sad eyes. “I’m sorry,” Andy mumbled
apologetically through his swollen lips. Joe nodded understandingly.
One
of the men standing near the door grabbed a chair from behind a nearby table.
The table was round, and covered by a neat but faded blue cloth. Heavy chairs
had been placed around the table, waiting silently for hotel guests who never
came.
Dragging the chair across the room, the man put it next to Joe. Whoever was
behind Joe pushed him down into the chair. “What’ll we tie him up with?” asked
the man who had brought the chair over. “We don’t have any more rope?”
The
man in the black shirt looked around. Some thick, decorative cord hung next to
the curtains by the window. The man reached up and gave one of the cords a hard
yank. It easily pulled off the curtain rod.
“Here, use this,” said the man, tossing the cord across the room. The second man
caught the cord and walked behind Joe. Pulling Joe’s arms back behind the chair,
the man began to tie Joe’s hands together.
Briefly, Joe smiled at the irony of the situation. He was sitting on one of the
chairs that Andy had been careful to keep in good repair. The back and seat had
thick cushions. Joe’s hands were being tied with a soft velvet rope. He could
almost be comfortable, if the situation didn’t seem so deadly.
The
man in the black shirt walked forward and stood in front of Andy. “All right,
old man,” snarled the leader. “One more time. Where is that mine of yours?”
“You’re doing this to find Andy’s mine?” asked Joe before Andy could answer.
“You’ve gone to a lot of trouble for nothing. That mine is a dead hole. There’s
nothing in it.”
“We
know different,” said the black-shirted man. He turned to Andy. “I saw that hunk
of silver you gave to Bailey a few days ago. I’ve done my share of prospecting
and I know what a rock from a rich vein looks like. That silver you gave to
Bailey was about as high grade as it comes. So, tell us. Where’s the mine?”
Turning his head, Joe looked at Andy in surprise. The old miner looked back at
Joe and a small smile appeared on his face. “Yep,” admitted Andy with a tinge of
satisfaction in his voice. “I found it, Joe. After twenty years of looking, I
finally found the silver.”
“Look, old man, we’ve wasted enough time on this already,” insisted the leader.
“We checked out some of the mines around here, and there was nothing in them.
Now where is your mine?”
“I
ain’t telling and you can’t make me,” said Andy in a defiant voice. “You kill me
and you’ll never find that mine. And there ain’t nothing you can do to me to
make me talk.”
Andy’s reply seemed to enrage the man in the black shirt. He balled his fist and
punched Andy in the stomach, then hit him in the jaw. Andy’s head went forward
with the first punch, and snapped back when the second one landed.
“Leave him alone!” shouted Joe. “He’s an old man. You’ll kill him if you keep
this up.”
“Shut up, kid,” snarled the man standing next to Joe’s chair.
Eyes
blazing with anger, Joe looked up at the man, “Oh, you’re real tough, aren’t
you. Four of you taking on one old man. That’s real brave of you.”
“I
said shut up!” shouted the man standing next to Joe. He drew back his arm and
hit Joe hard in the mouth. Joe’s head snapped to the side. He winced in pain,
then slowly raised his head again. Joe could taste the blood coming from his
lip. “Like I said,” he muttered. “Real brave.”
Joe’s comment drew another punch, this one to Joe’s stomach. Joe’s body jerked
forward as the man’s fist landed in his midsection. Joe could feel himself
pulling against his tied hands. He also felt the ropes that held him give a bit.
“Stop it. Don’t hurt him!” cried Andy as he saw Joe gasping for breath. “He
don’t have nothing to do with this.”
The
black-shirted man put his fingers to his jaw and rubbed it thoughtfully. “So
that’s how it is,” he mused. “I don’t know who this kid is, but he means
something to you, doesn’t he, old man.” The man took a step over to Joe and
roughly pushed Joe back up in the chair. He pulled a gun from his holster and
held the barrel to Joe’s head.
“All
right,” said the leader. “Here’s how it is. You’ve got ten seconds to tell us
where the mine is. If you don’t, I’m going to pull the trigger and blow the
kid’s brains out. He don’t mean nothing to me, and we don’t need him to find the
mine.”
Joe
froze. He had no doubt the man holding a gun to his head would carry out his
threat. Joe wasn’t sure what Andy would do. He didn’t know if Andy would give up
the silver for which he had searched for over two decades to save him.
“No!
Don’t!” shouted Andy in a desperate voice.
“Then you’d better start talking, old man,” threatened the leader. He cocked his
gun. “You’ve got about five seconds left.”
Taking a deep breath, Joe closed his eyes. He had heard that you never actually
felt the bullet that killed you. He wondered if it was true. Joe prayed that he
wouldn’t find out.
“Two
seconds, old man,” cautioned the leader. “Two seconds and then I pull the
trigger.”
“All
right, all right,” agreed Andy quickly. “I’ll tell you. Just don’t hurt him.”
“That’s more like it,” said the black-shirted man with a smile. He uncocked the
gun but left the barrel against Joe’s head. Joe let out a deep sigh and slumped
against the chair.
“Now, where’s the mine?” demanded the leader.
Andy
took a deep breath, then explained, “You head west out of town and go about half
a mile. You’ll see an old sycamore tree that’s shaped like a Y. Turn right and
go about a hundred yards. There’s a big clump of bushes against the side of the
mountain. Pull back the bushes and you’ll see the entrance to the mine. The
silver’s in there, but it’s real deep. You’ve got to go about a mile into the
mine to find that vein.”
“Good, very good,” observed the black-shirted man, nodding in satisfaction. He
pulled the gun away from Joe’s head. Then he stopped, as if struck by a thought.
“You wouldn’t be lying to us, would you, old man?”
“I
ain’t lying,” answered Andy in a tired voice. “It’s there.”
“We’ll just go take a look,” said the leader. He turned to the men standing near
the chairs. “You two come with me.” He turned again to the man who was still
standing near the door. “You stay here and keep an eye on these two. If we don’t
find that mine, we’ll come back and ask some more questions.” The man turned
once more and looked at Andy and Joe with a nasty grin on his face. “If we don’t
find that mine, old man, I’m going to kill the kid,” he promised Andy. “And I’ll
make sure he dies screaming in pain.”
Joe
swallowed hard. He hoped Andy hadn’t lied.
The
leader jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s go,” he ordered. He started
walking to the door, and the other two men followed him. The fourth man watched
as the other three walked out the door, then he walked over to the round table.
Pulling out one of the chairs, he sat down at the table. He leaned back into the
chair and pulled his feet from the floor, settling them on the table. By turning
his head to his left, the man could see Andy and Joe. By turning to his right,
he could see out the window. The man looked at Andy and Joe for a minute, then
turned to stare out the window.
Cautiously, Joe watched the man at the table. When he was convinced their guard
had little interest in them, Joe took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He
twisted a bit in his chair, and was surprised to feel the ropes around his hands
give a bit once more. The cord that had been used to tie Joe’s hands had hung by
the window for over twenty years. Time and the sun had caused the cord to begin
to decay. Joe couldn’t snap the cord, but he could feel it loosen a fraction
each time he pulled against it. Joe began to pump his wrists back and forth,
straining against the cord. If he could loosen the cord enough, he might be able
to slip one - or both - hands out of his bonds. He watched the guard carefully
as he worked, making sure the man didn’t notice what he was doing.
“Joe, I’m sorry,” said Andy in a low voice. “I never meant for you to get caught
up in this.”
Joe
paused in his efforts for a moment. “Andy,” he answered in an equally low voice.
“What’s going on? Who are these guys?”
“The
leader, the one in the black shirt? His name is Phillips,” explained Andy. “I
don’t know the others.” Andy shook his head. “I was so excited,” he continued.
“I finally found it, Joe. After twenty years, I finally found that big vein. I
just had to tell someone. So I grabbed a chuck of the silver and rode up to
Bailey’s. Figured I’d pay him for all the whiskey and stuff he had given me over
the years.”
Nodding, Joe smiled ruefully. After all these years, Andy still didn’t know that
Ben Cartwright was paying his bills at the Trading Post. Joe began straining
against the cord again.
“I’ll admit it,” said Andy. “I also wanted to do a bit of bragging. Bailey and
some of the other fellows who come by his Trading Post, they never thought I’d
find the vein. They used to laugh when I told them I was getting close. So I
wanted to make them eat their words. I threw the silver down on the counter at
Bailey, and told him about finding a big
Joe
stopped working on the ropes and looked at Andy. “You told them, though,” he
said softy. “You told them to save me.”
“I
couldn’t let them hurt you,” replied Andy, shrugging a bit. “I owe your Pa too
much. I couldn’t repay him by letting them hurt you.”
Joe
looked away, feeling uncomfortable and not because of the ropes. “We haven’t
done that much,” he muttered. “Just brought you some supplies from time to
time.”
“Joe, it ain’t the supplies I owe your Pa for,” replied Andy. “Sure, they’ve
been helpful, but that’s not what I meant. I owe your Pa for his friendship, and
for letting me watch you boys grow up.”
Joe
looked at Andy in surprise.
“Watching you boys grow up, well, that’s meant more to me than almost anything,”
continued Andy. “I never had a family, so your Pa kind of shared his with me. He
made sure he brought you or Hoss or Adam with him every time he came. Most of
the time, it was more than one of you. It gave me such pleasure to watch you
boys over the years.
“I
didn’t know that,” said Joe in amazement.
“Oh,
you and Hoss, you usually were playing in the town while we was unloading,”
replied Andy. “That’s why I always kept things in good repair. I wanted to make
sure there was no way you boys could get hurt while you was exploring.” Andy
chuckled softly. “You two must have spent hours in every building in this town.”
Joe
nodded. He and Hoss had explored all the buildings and had great fun doing it.
They would play games or hide from each other in the various structures. Joe
remembered begging to go with his father to Hawthorne and being excited when he
was allowed to come along. Joe wondered when things had changed. He couldn’t
pinpoint when the adventure had turned into a chore.
“And
you boys, you were so good to me, too,” added Andy. “You used to listen to my
stories. When you was little, you’d beg me to tell you stories. I guess you must
have heard them stories a hundred times over the years. But it gave me such
pleasure to tell them to you.”
Joe
looked away, feeling ashamed of himself for complaining about Andy’s stories. He
did remember that when he was little, he’d ask Andy to tell him about the boom
times in Hawthorne. Andy obviously had enjoyed telling him the stories. It was
such a small thing to listen to the stories for awhile and it gave the old man
a lot of happiness. Joe could feel a flush creeping up his neck. “I like your
stories,” mumbled Joe.
“Bless you, boy,” said Andy with a wry grin. “I know you got tired of hearing
them. But you always listened.” Andy took a deep breath. “I’m right proud of the
way you all turned out. Your Pa, he made sure you boys kept coming over to see
me even after you was grown, so I could see for myself that you were all right.
I used to worry over you boys sometimes. I fretted for a long time after Adam
went off that fancy school of his. I was never so happy as when he came over
when he got back. It was good to see him home, all safe and sound. And Hoss,
he’s so big and strong. I guess I’ve thought of dozens of excuses for him to
help me out at the mine. I like watching him and knowing how he had grown from a
little shaver to such a powerful man.”
“And
you, you were always changing,” continued Andy, looking straight at Joe. “One
time, you’d be all moony over some gal, then on the next visit, you’d have
forgotten all about her. You’d tell me about some wild horse you’d broke or how
good you was getting with a gun. I never know from one visit to the next what
you’d be up to. I think I look forward to your visits most of all.”
Amazed, Joe shook his head in almost disbelief. He never realized that all the
small talk he had made with Andy over the years had been so important to the
man. He had just been making conversation, doing something to fill up the time
during his visits. He hadn’t understood until now why his Pa had insisted they
each continue to make the trips to Hawthorne.
Andy
turned to look at their guard. The man was still staring out the window,
ignoring the murmur of conversation from the pair.
“Joe,” said Andy softly. “We got to get out of here. Phillips will kill us when
he gets back. I told him true about the mine. Now that he knows where it is,
he’ll have to get rid of us.”
“Yeah, I know,” agreed Joe. He began working on the cords again with a renewed
purpose. He could feel them stretching and loosening with each tug. Joe began
straining his wrists against the cord with all the strength he had.
“I
got to figure out a way to protect you,” stated Andy in an almost distracted
voice. “I swear I ain’t going to let anything happen to you.”
Joe
was touched by the old man’s concern for him, but he knew there was little Andy
Miller could do to, even if he got free. Too many years had passed for the old
prospector. Joe knew it was up to him to get them out of danger. He strained
against the cords once more, and felt them loosen around his wrists. Joe put his
wrists against the back of the chair and slowly rolled the cord up and down. He
felt the cord slip on his left hand. Joe rolled his left wrist a bit more, then
grabbed the cord with his right hand. He tugged his left hand sharply upward.
His hand popped free of the cord.
Careful to keep his hands behind the chair, Joe pulled the cord off his other
wrist. He watched the man across the room, trying to decide how he could jump
him. The man had his gun in his holster, but Joe knew he could easily draw and
fire if Joe tried to
“Andy,” Joe hissed. “We need to get him over here.”
“Why?” replied Andy with a frown.
“Just do what I say,” ordered Joe. “Start moaning like you were sick.”
Andy
looked at Joe with a quizzical expression, then shrugged. He began moaning
softly, then a little louder.
“Hey,” shouted Joe. “Something’s wrong with Andy. I think he’s having a heart
attack or something.”
The
man at the table looked over at the captives. Andy was slumped forward, head
down. He was moaning and gasping for breath. A worried crossed the face of the
guard. He quickly pulled his feet off the table and got up from the chair. He
crossed the room and stood over Andy. “What’s the matter with you?” he growled
to Andy.
Ignoring the man, Andy continued to moan. As the guard bent forward a bit to
check on the old miner, Joe sprang up from the chair and grabbed the man’s arm.
Joe spun him around and quickly landed two short jabs in the man’s stomach.
Before the man could even react, Joe hit him on the jaw as hard as he could. The
man’s head snapped back, and he started to slump toward the floor. Joe hit him
once again on the jaw, then let the man crumple to the floor. Joe stood over the
fallen guard for a minute, making sure the man was unconscious. Then he turned
to Andy.
Andy
was grinning. “Pretty slick,” he said with a chuckle. “I always figured you had
some pretty fast fists.”
Joe
grinned back at the man, then quickly moved behind Andy and began to untie him.
“We’ve got to get out of here before the others get back,” advised Joe as he
undid the knots on the rope that held Andy to the chair. “The wagon is across
the street.” As he untied the last knot, Joe pulled the ropes off Andy and
helped the old man to his feet.
Andy’s knees buckled a bit as he tried to stand, and he swayed against Joe. Joe
caught the old miner and helped him stand. Phillips and the others had worked
him over pretty good. Joe began to worry about how badly they had hurt old Andy.
“I’m
all right,” said Andy as he winced in pain. “Just give me a minute.”
“Sure,” agreed Joe. He looked at the old man with concern. “Think you can stand
by yourself for a minute?” Andy nodded. Joe carefully released him and watched
as Andy swayed. But the old prospector stayed on his feet.
Walking quickly to the man on the floor, Joe knelt down and pulled the pistol
from the man’s holster and stuck the gun in his own holster. Then he rushed back
to Andy. “Come on,” Joe said, putting his arms gently around the old man. “Let’s
get out of here.” Joe began guiding Andy slowly toward the door. The old man
leaned against Joe, and his gait was more of a shuffle than a walk. Joe hurried
Andy as much as he could. He knew Phillips and the others would be back soon. He
wanted to be out of Hawthorne before they returned.
When
he and Andy reached the door, Joe stopped. He cautiously eased the door open and
stuck his head outside. The street was deserted. Joe looked to the west end of
the town, and was pleased to see no sign of horses riding in. Joe turned to Andy
and gave a brief nod, then began to guide the old prospector out the door.
As
Joe led Andy onto the street, the man was leaning even more on Joe and his
breathing sounded labored. Joe tried to hurry him across the street to the
wagon, but the old prospector simply couldn’t walk any faster. It seemed to Joe
that it took an hour to get across the street, instead of just a few minutes. He
anxiously glanced toward the west end of town as he helped Andy toward the
wagon.
As
the pair reached the back of the wagon, Andy stopped. “Let me rest a minute,” he
gasped. Joe nodded and eased Andy against the back of the wagon. The prospector
stood with his eyes closed, breathing hard. Joe watched the old man with
concern; Andy looked pale, although it was hard for Joe to be sure. Between the
beard and all the bruises, he couldn’t see much of Andy’s face. A kind of
wheezing was escaping from Andy’s lungs
“Come on, Andy,” Joe urged in a gentle voice. “We have to get going. We have to
get you to a doctor.” Andy didn’t say anything but he nodded his head. Joe
slipped his arms around the old man and shifted Andy’s weight from the wagon to
himself. Once more, he
The
tall load of boxes and bags blocked Joe’s view of the street as he eased Andy
toward the front of the wagon. Joe couldn’t hear much over Andy’s wheezing
breaths, either. As a result, Joe wasn’t aware of the three riders who had
returned to town and now were starting slowly up the street.
Joe
was helping Andy to climb up to the drivers seat when he heard the shout. He
looked quickly to his left and saw Phillips and the other two men. They had
stopped their horses in front of the livery stable, about 40 yards away. One of
the men was pointing at him, and Joe saw all three reaching for their guns.
“Andy, get down!” shouted Joe, just as the shots rang out. He reached up to pull
the old man off the wagon seat. Two bullets zinged into the wood of the wagon,
startling the horses. The animals shifted nervously, causing the wagon to roll a
few inches. Andy fell back off the wagon, knocking both himself and Joe to the
ground. More bullets whizzed around, hitting the wagon and building behind Joe
and Andy. Joe scrambled to his feet and pulled the pistol out of his holster. He
crouched behind the wagon and fired two shots at the riders, noting with
satisfaction that he scattered the three men. Joe was sure he hadn’t hit
anything but he knew he had distracted them for a minute.
Shoving the pistol back into his holster, Joe turned back to Andy. The old man
was laying face down on the ground, not moving. Joe wasn’t sure if Andy had been
hit or simply knocked out by the fall. But he didn’t have time to check. Joe
reached down and grabbed the prospector under the arms, then started dragging
Andy toward the door of the store behind them. Joe stopped for a minute to push
the door open. As he did, another spray of bullets hit the building. Ignoring
the bullets, Joe reached back to tighten his hold on Andy. Several shots echoed
through the town, and suddenly, Joe felt a searing pain in his right thigh. He
cried out in pain and crumpled to the ground on top of Andy.
For
a minute, Joe could do nothing but lay on top of the old miner. His eyes were
tightly closed as he tried to endure the pain that seemed to radiate up his leg.
He gasped for air in ragged breaths and fought the nausea that seemed to
suddenly well up in his stomach. He felt as if someone was sticking a hot poker
in his leg. But even through the pain, Joe knew he and
He
could see the blood running down his right leg from the bullet hole in his
thigh. As Joe tried to get up., he cried out at the pain the movement caused,
and spots of blackness seemed to dance in front of his eyes. Joe shook his head,
trying to clear it. He knew he had to get moving or he would die.
Then
Joe heard another sound…the sound of horses coming closer. He didn’t bother to
look in the direction of the sound. Joe knew he was running out of time. He
grabbed Andy by the arm and dragged both himself and the old man into the
building behind him.
As
soon as the two were inside the building, Joe dropped Andy. He dragged himself
back to the front of the building and looked out the doorway. He could see the
three riders coming toward the building. Joe fired twice, and the riders
abruptly stopped. Joe fired once more. The three men quickly turned their horses
and retreated. Joe eased himself back into the building and firmly shut the door
behind him.
Pulling himself up to a sitting position, Joe rested his back against the door.
He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. The pain in his leg was
agonizing, and he could feel the blood trickling down his thigh. Joe shivered,
and a feeling of lethargy seemed to creep through him. He couldn’t move,
couldn’t think. All he could do was sit there and feel miserable.
Slowly, the pain in Joe’s leg eased to a dull ache. His breathing became more
regular and the terrible weariness began to melt away. Joe slowly opened his
eyes.
As
his vision cleared and focused, Joe saw the counter of the old store across the
room, and the shelves lining the wall behind the counter. A few small sacks and
cans sat on the shelves. Joe lowered his eyes and saw Andy laying face down,
unmoving, in the middle of the floor.
“Andy!” gasped Joe. He threw himself forward and crawled across the floor,
dragging his injured leg behind him. Joe reached the old prospector and turned
him onto his back. Joe could see the bullet hole in Andy’s chest, just below the
left collarbone. Blood covered the old man’s chest. Joe felt Andy’s neck and was
relieved to feel the faint throb of a pulse.
“Andy,” Joe said again as he gently shook the old man. “Andy, can you hear me?”
At
first there was no reaction. Then Andy’s eyes slowly fluttered open. He stared
at Joe, as if he didn’t recognize him. Hiss mouth worked as if he were trying to
talk but no sound came out. Suddenly, the old man coughed violently, and a
trickle of blood flowed from his mouth.
“Take it easy, Andy,” comforted Joe in a soothing voice. “Take it easy.”
Andy
closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to gather strength. He opened them
again and looked at Joe. “Are...are you all right?” asked the miner in a barely
audible voice.
“I’m
fine,” Joe lied. “Don’t worry about me.”
Andy
nodded. “Good,” he said softly. “I’ll…I’ll protect you.”
“Sure, Andy,” Joe reassured him. “Sure you will.”
“They…won’t….get… my mine,” promised Andy in a fading voice.
“No,
no they won’t,” agreed Joe.
Andy
nodded again. “Tell your Pa…” said Andy in a barely audible whisper. He suddenly
coughed again.
“I’ll tell him,” Joe quickly assured the old man. He lifted Andy’s hand from the
floor and held it tightly.
“I…won’t…let…them…” Andy tried to get the words out, but he was too weak. He
looked at Joe, a silent message in his eyes. Then Andy’s eyes closed and his
body went limp. Joe felt the old man’s neck again. This time he could feel no
pulse.
Sadly, Joe lowered his head. He hadn’t realized until now how much old Andy
really meant to him. In the past few years, he had thought of Andy Miller as
sort of an eccentric old uncle, someone to be humored and tolerated. But now,
Joe knew Andy had been much more than that. Joe had never needed to worry or
pretend when he was with the old prospector. Andy had always listened and never
judged. The hours of exploring the town and the old stories were happy thoughts
woven into the memories of Joe’s childhood. Andy had watched over Joe and his
brothers, and they had grown into manhood under his protective eyes.
“Thank you,” Joe said softly as he gently laid Andy’s hand across the old man’s
chest. Joe could feel the tears stinging his eyes.
The
sound of harness jangling pulled Joe abruptly back to the present. He crawled
back to the front of the store and eased himself near the window, then looked
out onto the street. The wagon was no longer in front of the store. Joe could
see it moving slowly down the street, the horses probably being led by one of
Phillips’ men. He looked around the street, trying to spot the other men. He
couldn’t see anyone, but he knew they were out there.
Sitting back against the wall, Joe tried to think. The pistol was still in his
hand. Joe knew he only had one bullet left, but he checked anyway. He looked up
at the shelf across the room, but saw only sacks of flour and sugar, and a few
tin cans. There was nothing that even resembled a box of cartridges. Joe knew
Andy had never carried a pistol, so there was no need for him to have bullets
for a handgun. The prospector had an old rifle around someplace but Joe had no
idea where it might be.
As
he shifted his weight, a stab of pain radiated through Joe's leg again. He
looked down at the wound in his leg. The bleeding had slowed, but a trickle of
dark red was still oozing out of his thigh. Joe knew he had to bandage the wound
somehow. He stuck the pistol back in his holster. Then he slipped his jacket off
his shoulders, and threw it aside. Joe reached up and tugged at the shoulder of
his shirt. At first, the cloth wouldn’t give. He tugged harder, and was rewarded
by the sound of tearing cloth. One more sharp pull tore the sleeve away from the
rest of his shirt. Joe pulled the sleeve off his arm, and wound the cloth around
his thigh, wincing in pain as he did so. Then he tied the cloth as tight as
possible. Joe knew the sleeve wasn’t much of a bandage, but it was the best he
could do.
Glancing out the window again, Joe saw the wagon disappearing down the street.
He knew it was only a question of time before the men outside attacked the
store. He had only one shot to defend himself against the fusillade of bullets
he knew would come. Joe looked around the building, trying to come up with a
plan. He thought about crouching behind the counter, but that would only delay
the inevitable. He wouldn’t be able to stop Phillips and the others from
breaking into the store, and once they did, there was no place for Joe to hide.
A
place to hide. The thought suddenly struck Joe. That’s what he needed. Someplace
to hide where the others couldn’t find him. If they couldn’t find him, they
might give up and go away. Joe knew it was a slim chance, but it was the only
chance he had.
Joe
thought hard, mentally reviewing all the nooks and crannies he had explored over
the years. He needed someplace that wasn’t obvious, someplace that the men
outside would never think to look. A smile flickered across Joe’s face. He knew
just the place, if he could get to it.
Shaking his head slowly with regret, Joe took one last look at old Andy. He
hated leaving the old prospector like this, but he also knew that Phillips and
the others couldn’t hurt Andy any more. Joe said a silent goodbye to Andy, then
began crawling across the floor to the back of the store.
The
old store had a back door, a door that probably hadn’t been used in years. Joe
wasn’t sure it would open, but the door offered his only escape. He slid across
the floor until he was by the door, then reached up and tried to turn the knob.
The knob was stiff but it moved in Joe’s hand. He closed his eyes and silently
thanked Andy Miller for keeping the town in good repair.
Grabbing the side of the door frame, Joe pulled himself up until he was
standing. He leaned against the frame, keeping all of his weight on his
uninjured leg. Then Joe looked cautiously out the door.
A
small path, no more than a yard wide, separated the back of the store from the
mountain of solid rock behind it. Joe looked to be sure there was no one around.
Then he eased himself out of the doorway, dragging his injured leg behind him.
*************
Phillips stood in the doorway of the hotel across the street from the store. He
was watching the store, looking for some sign of movement. He also was waiting
until the other three men were ready to join him. He had no desire to attack the
store without help.
Hearing a small groan behind him, Phillips turned to look. The man Joe had
knocked out was slowly getting to his feet, rubbing his jaw as he stood. He
looked around, confused by the empty room. Then he saw Phillips by the door.
“What happened?” asked the man.
“The
old man and kid got away,” replied Phillips, his voice tinged with disgust.
“Some guard you turned out to be.”
“Got
away!” cried the man with alarm. “Now what’ll we do?”
“Luckily, they didn’t get very far,” Phillips answered. “They’re holed up in
that building across the street. I think both of them are hit, but I’m not
sure.”
The
would-be guard reached for his gun and was surprised to find his holster empty.
Phillips nodded. “Yeah, I know,” he said with a touch of irony. “The kid took
some shots at us. But he can’t have too many bullets left. That’ll make it easy
for us to take them.”
“I
ain’t going up against him or anyone else without a gun,” stated the other man
in alarm.
“I’m
not asking you to,” replied Phillips. “Jim is moving the wagon down the street
to the stable. He’s got the kid’s gun. When he gets back, you can take the kid’s
gun from him. Then I want you to sneak out to the side of this building. Billy
is already down the street. We’ll come at them from three directions. It will be
over real quick.”
“Not
too quick, I hope,” said the man, rubbing his chin. “I owe that kid something.”
“I’m
not taking any chances, Sam,” replied Phillips. “We saw the mine. It was just
where the old man said it would be. And it’s got a vein of silver that’s a mile
wide. That mine will be worth a lot of money. But to get it, we need to be sure
that old man and kid are dead.”
“All
right,” agreed Sam. He looked out the window. “Here comes Jim. Let’s get this
over with.”
It
took only a few minutes for the four men to get into position. Phillips watched
the store the whole time, not seeing any movement. He wondered if the two men in
the store were already dead. Phillips shrugged to himself. If they weren’t dead,
they would be soon.
Phillips checked once more to make sure his men were ready. Then he lifted his
hand and pointed toward the store across the street. Immediately four guns began
firing into the store, smashing window panes and splintering the wooden door.
Each man emptied his gun firing into the store. As they stopped to re-load,
Phillips watched the store carefully. He still saw no sign that anyone in the
store was still alive.
After reloading his pistol, Phillips started slowly out the door of the hotel.
He crouched low, ready to dive to the ground if there were any shots. But no
answering fire came from the store. Phillips became bolder as he neared the
building, increasing his pace and raising himself almost to his full height.
Still, the store was silent. Phillips finally reached the front of the store,
his men close behind him. He kicked open the door and rushed in, his gun cocked
and ready to fire.
Stopping inside the store, Phillips looked around. He saw Andy Miller laying on
the floor. He was sure the old man was dead, but motioned to one of the men to
check. Phillips looked at the broken glass scattered on the floor and the bullet
holes which had pierced the wooden walls. He saw Joe’s jacket lying in a heap.
But there was no sign of
“Where’s the kid?” asked Sam, the man Joe had punched. “Where’d he go?”
“Check behind the counter,” ordered Phillips with a frown. The man walked across
the room and looked over the counter. He turned back to Phillips and shook his
head.
“It’s like he just disappeared,” said the one called Billy. He looked around
uneasily.
“He
didn’t disappear,” growled Phillips. “He got away again. That kid is as slick as
grease.” Phillips looked down to the floor again. Now he noticed the spots of
blood trailing across the floor. He followed the trail with his eyes, and saw
the door at the back of the store, half hidden in shadows. “He went out the
back,” added Phillips with disgust.
“The
old man is dead,” declared Sam as he walked away from Andy’s body.
Phillips nodded, his thoughts distracted. “The kid couldn’t have gotten far,”
said Phillips. “He’s bleeding pretty bad.” He suddenly turned and looked out
onto the street. “There’s only one way in and out of this town. We’d have seen
him if he had tried to leave. That means he’s still here.”
“But
where?” asked Jim.
“I
don’t know where!” answered Phillips angrily. “But there’s only a dozen
buildings in this town. All we have to do is search them. We’ll find him.”
Phillips turned to the two other men. “Billy, you go down to the end of town by
the stable. Stay there and keep your eyes peeled. If the kid tries to leave
town, shoot him.” Phillips turned back to Jim. “You go down to the other end of
town and do the same thing.”
“What are you two going to do?” asked Jim.
“We’re going to search this town building by building,” replied Phillips. “We’ll
flush the kid out. And then we’re going to make him wish he never was born.”
**********
Joe
had been in the alley behind the store when the volley of shots were fired. He
had instinctively crouched against the building, listening to the sound of glass
breaking and
As
soon as the shooting stopped, Joe peered cautiously around the corner of the
store. He could see one man walking slowly toward the store, with his gun drawn.
As soon as the man was out of sight, Joe began limping across the small alley to
the building next door.
The
building next to the store was the old assay office. It had no back door because
the building was built up against the mountain behind it. But there was a side
door facing the alley. Joe hurried to the door as fast as his injured leg would
allow him. He turned another stiff but working door knob, and pushed open the
door. This time, the door made little sound as it opened. Joe hurried into the
assay office, and quietly closed the door behind him.
Inside the old assay office, Joe stood still for a minute. He was breathing
hard, and the ache in his leg was getting worse. Beads of sweat were forming on
his forehead. But Joe knew he had no time to lose. He took a deep breath and
hurried across the room to the front door of the office. He pushed the door open
and looked out onto a deserted street. Joe quickly limped out of the assay
office and down the street. The building he wanted was the next one, the old
saloon.
Joe
pushed open one of the swinging doors at the entrance to the saloon and hurried
into the building. He had just gotten inside when he heard the sound of
footsteps. Joe fell to the floor, gritting his teeth in pain as his wounded leg
hit the hard wood. He pulled himself a foot or so into the shadows of the
interior of the building and froze.
Laying in the shadows for a moment, Joe rested and gathered strength to move on.
He felt light headed, and knew he had probably lost a lot of blood. His arms and
legs felt as if they were made of jelly. And the bullet wound in his leg
throbbed constantly. Joe knew he was losing strength rapidly, but he only had a
little further to go. Just rest a minute, he told himself, and then move.
As
Joe rested, he looked around the deserted saloon. This had been one of his
favorite places, he thought with a touch of nostalgia. He and Hoss had spent
hours playing in this place when they were young. They had taught themselves to
play poker with a deck of faded old cards, and pretended to serve each other
drinks as they played. They had imitated all the things they imagined that a
grown up would do in a saloon, things that they would never have been allowed to
do at home. And they had enjoyed every minute of it.
Hearing the sound of footsteps outside, Joe cursed himself for stopping. He
should have been hiding by now. He was afraid he wouldn’t reach his safe haven
before Phillips and the others came into the saloon. Joe began dragging himself
across the floor toward the large oak bar. The bar was only a few feet away, but
to Joe, it looked as if the distance was a mile. He tried to hurry, but he was
too weak to do more than drag himself slowly across the floor.
As
he reached the end of the bar, Joe heard the voices outside the saloon. He could
clearly hear two men. They sounded as if they were just about ready to enter the
saloon. He wasn’t going to make it, Joe thought as he pulled himself around the
end of the bar. He wasn’t going to have enough time to hide before the men
entered the saloon.
He
only needed another minute, but Joe was convinced he wouldn’t get that minute.
As
he clearly heard a voice say “Let’s check the saloon,” Joe tensed his body,
waiting for the sound of footsteps and the bullet he was sure was going to be
fired into him. Instead, he heard an odd sound. It was the sound of wind, a big
wind. The wind caused the saloon doors to swing and creak. A shower of dirt and
dust blew against the building. The sign hanging outside the saloon swayed and
fell to the ground with a crash.
Joe
didn’t wait. He pulled *himself along the floor until he was behind the bar,
then reached down and grabbed at what looked like just a small hole in the
floor. He pulled on the hole, and a section of the floor lifted up.
Joe
and Hoss had found the trapdoor in the saloon floor many years ago. He knew
there was small crawl space under the trapdoor, seemingly large to a young boy
but now just big enough for a grown man. When they had shown the trapdoor to
their father, Ben had speculated that it was used to store whiskey and beer
close by the bar, so a bartender could easily reach it.
Pushing himself into the crawl space, Joe slowly lowered the trapdoor behind
him. Almost as soon as the trapdoor was shut, the wind outside stopped.
A
few seconds later, Phillips and Sam walked into the saloon, brushing the dirt
off of themselves as they entered.
“That was a pretty strange wind,” commented Sam. “Came out of nowhere. It almost
knocked that sign right into us.”
Phillips ignored Sam’s comment. “Check behind the bar,” he ordered as his eyes
searched the deserted saloon. The saloon was dark, and full of shadows and the
dark smear of blood on the floor melted into the shadows. Phillips glanced to
the floor, but he didn’t see the blood. Sam walked over to the large wooden bar.
He peer cautiously over the top, then walked behind the wide counter.
From
his hiding place, Joe could hear the men. He peered up through the hole and saw
a part of a boot just inches from the trapdoor. Joe held his breath.
“Nothing here,” declared Sam as he walked away from the bar.
Phillips walked around the saloon, knocking over chairs and moving tables as he
looked into the shadows. Finally he returned to the doors at the front. “He’s
got to be around here someplace,” said Phillips in frustration. “That blood we
saw led right to the old
“But
he wasn’t in there,” answered Sam. “And we didn’t see any more blood.”
“The
dirt that wind blew up probably covered it up,” said Phillips. He looked around
the empty saloon once more. “Come on, let’s try the next one.” He turned and
walked out of the saloon, followed by Sam.
In
his hiding place, Joe heard the men leave. He let out his breath slowly, weak
with relief. Joe shifted a bit in the crawl space, trying to find a more
comfortable position. He
*************
Ben
Cartwright stopped his horse at the crest of the hill on the trail to Hawthorne.
He was peering down at the town below as Hoss rode up and pulled his horse to a
halt also.
“Looks quiet enough,” commented Ben as he gazed at the buildings below him.
“Pa,
you sure you ain’t overreacting just a bit to what Bailey told you in Virginia
City yesterday?” asked Hoss with a wry grin.
“I
probably am,” admitted Ben. “But Bailey seemed so upset and worried about Andy.
I’d just feel better if I saw for myself that everything was all right.”
“What exactly did Bailey tell you?” asked Hoss.
Ben
sighed. “Just what I told you. He said Andy Miller showed up at his place a few
days ago with a chuck of high grade silver ore. Andy bragged that he had finally
found that vein of silver that he had been searching for all these years.”
“Good for old Andy,” interjected Hoss. “He deserves it after all those years of
looking.”
Ben
nodded. “Bailey said there were four other men in the Trading Post when Andy
came in,” he continued. “He said that they seemed unusually interested in
Andy’s
“If
Bailey was so worried, why didn’t he go check on Andy himself?” asked Hoss.
“He
was going to but he needed to get some supplies,” explained Ben. “Then his horse
went lame, and he ended up being stuck in Virginia City for longer than he
planned. Bailey told me he’s been fretting about Andy the whole time.”
“But, Pa, even if they were bothering Andy, don’t you think Joe could handle
things?” asked Hoss. “Joe don’t exactly shy away from trouble.”
“Your brother does seem to have a knack for getting involved,” agreed Ben. “And
Joe’s pretty handy with both his gun and his fists. But even so, if those men
come after Andy and Joe, the odds are four against two. I’d like to even the
odds if there’s trouble.”
“I
still think we’ve made a long ride for nothing,” stated Hoss.
“I
hope you’re right,” answered Ben in a worried voice. “Let’s get going.” Ben
kicked his horse forward and started down the hill. Hoss sighed and followed his
father.
As
they pair neared the town, Ben looked anxiously toward the street that ran
“Maybe Joe decided to put it in the stable for awhile,” suggested Hoss. “You
know how Andy is about keeping things where they belong.”
“Maybe,” replied Ben. But his voice reflected the fact that he didn’t think so.
“Do
you think Joe’s already headed for home?” asked Hoss, trying to ease Ben’s
worry.
“No,
we would have seen some sign of the wagon,” answered Ben with a shake of his
head. “Bailey is still in Virginia City. If Joe went to Bailey’s place, he’d
have found the Trading Post closed, and headed back down the trail. I’m sure we
would have seen him.”
Hoss
didn’t say anything; he suddenly felt uneasy about the deserted street.
Ben
and Hoss rode to the edge of Hawthorne. They both stopped their horses in
surprise when they saw someone lounging against the side of the first building
of the town. The man hurried forward and blocked their path.
“Can
I help you fellows?” asked the man.
“I
don’t think so,” answered Ben in a wary voice. “We’re just going to ride in and
see Andy Miller.”
“He
ain’t there,” stated the man.
“Not
there?” said Hoss with a frown. “Old Andy almost never leaves Hawthorne. Where’d
he go?”
“Don’t know,” replied the man. “The town’s deserted.”
“What are you doing here?” asked Ben, his concern growing.
The
man bit his lip and seemed to be thinking. “I’m, um, I’m just waiting for some
friends,” the man told the Cartwrights. “They’re doing some prospecting. I
figured it would be more comfortable to wait for them here than camped out in
the mountains.
“Well, you don’t mind if we ride in and look around for ourselves, do you?”
asked Ben.
The
man put his hand on his holster. “Matter of fact, I do mind,” he answered with a
hint of menace. “I don’t want any strangers poking around my gear.”
“We
just want to ride down to the hotel and take a look around for Andy,” said Hoss.
“We’ll be in and out before you know it.”
“I
already told you he wasn’t there,” growled the man, his eyes narrowing. He
lowered his hand to his gun. “Now why don’t you just turn around and ride out of
here.”
“Listen, mister…” started Hoss in a threatening voice.
“Hoss, he said Andy wasn’t there,” interrupted Ben. “He must be up at Bailey’s.
Why don’t we ride up there and look for him.”
“Yeah, that’s where he must be,” agreed the man. He took his hand off his gun.
“Why don’t you try Bailey’s.”
“But, Pa!” protested Hoss.
“Let’s ride up to Bailey’s,” said Ben in a firm voice. He turned back to the man
in the street. “Sorry to have troubled you.” The man just stared at Ben.
Turn
his horse, Ben started back up the trail. Hoss sat for a minute, frowning at the
man standing in front of him. Then he turned his horse and rode up next to Ben.
“Pa,
something ain’t right,” said Hoss.
“I
know, Hoss,” agreed Ben in a low voice. “But if Andy and Joe are in trouble,
starting a gunfight isn’t going to help them. That fellow was ready to shoot to
prevent us from going into town.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” stated Hoss. “What are we going to do?”
“Let’s ride to the top of the hill, out of sight,” replied Ben. “We’ll double
back on that old trail that comes in from the south.”
“That’s not much of a trail,” said Hoss. “You can barely get a horse down it.
Besides, won’t that fellow just stop us again?”
“Not
if he doesn’t see us,” observed Ben. “If we come in from the south, the
buildings will block his view. We can hide the horses in that little alley
behind the first couple of buildings. And then we’ll do some searching on own.”
“It’s kind of risky,” said Hoss.
“Yes
it is,” agreed Ben, his voice suddenly grim. “But it’s a risk we need to take if
we want to get to Andy and Joe.”
****************
Phillips walked down the middle of the street until he reached the end of town
where Ben and Hoss had been stopped. “You see any sign of the kid?” he asked
Jim. Jim shook his head.
“Damn!” swore Phillips. “He’s got to be here someplace. We checked all those
buildings on the side across from the hotel.” He looked at Jim. “Are you sure
you didn’t see him?” he asked again. “He might of tried sneaking across the
street.” Phillips eyed the other man suspiciously. “You have been watching the
street, right?”
“Sure I have,” replied Jim. But his eyes shifted away from Phillips.
“The
whole time?” demanded Phillips.
Jim
hesitated, then shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I was busy for a couple of
minutes,” he admitted. “Two fellows rode up. Said they wanted to ride into town
and see the old man. I discouraged them.”
“Two
riders?” said Phillips, a touch of alarm in his voice. “Who were they?”
“Don’t know,” replied Jim indifferently. “Just said they were looking for the
old man. I told them he wasn’t here. They must have believed me because they
took off toward Bailey’s place. They were going to look for the old man there.”
Phillips studied the man in front of him with a thoughtful expression. “How long
did this little conversation take?” he asked.
“Just a couple of minutes, like I said,” replied Jim.
“Long enough for the kid to get across the street,” said Phillips. He shook his
head. “Now we’ve got to search all those other buildings, too.”
“Wouldn’t Billy have seen him?” asked Jim.
“Billy,” answered Phillips in disgust. “He’s got no more brains than a bird. I
came right up on him before he even noticed me. He was daydreaming. That kid
could have walked right by him and Billy would have never seen him.” Phillips
sighed. “I’ll get Sam and we’ll start on the other buildings.” Phillips poked
Jim in the chest with his finger. “You keep your eyes peeled, you hear? You see
any sign of that kid, you holler out.”
“Sure,” agreed Jim. He cocked his head. “You don’t think the kid got away, do
you?”
“No,” said Phillips in a determined voice. “He’s still in that town some place.
He’s playing some kind of cat and mouse game with us. Probably moving to one
place while we’re searching another. Well, he can play all the games he wants.
It won’t do him any good.
***********
The
sun was starting its afternoon descent by the time Hoss and Ben quietly led
their horses to the alley behind the deserted buildings in Hawthorne. It had
taken them some time to ride down the old trail. Hoss had been right; the trail
was barely passable.
When
they neared the town, the two men had dismounted and led their horses. Leading
Both
Ben and Hoss had moved cautiously when they reached Hawthorne. The old buildings
hid them from the stranger they had met, but the same buildings hid the man from
the
Finally, Ben and Hoss were able to lead their horses down the narrow path behind
the buildings. They stopped behind the second building and tied the horses to a
small bush growing in the path.
“Pa,
what do we do now?” asked Hoss in a whisper.
“Find Andy and Joe,” answered Ben in a low but firm voice.
“But
how?” asked Hoss. “The hotel is across the street. That fellow will spot us if
we try to get over there.”
Ben
put his hand to his chin and thought. He wasn’t sure what to do next. But he
knew he had to find his son and his old friend. The question was how to do it.
A
sudden gust of wind blew up, spraying dust in the Cartwright’s faces. As Ben
turned his head to avoid the dirt, he saw the back door of the old store open
and sway slightly in the wind. And just as suddenly as the wind blew up, it
died.
Grabbing Hoss’ arm, Ben pointed to the open door.
Hoss
frowned. He couldn’t think of a single reason why that door should be open.
Without being told, Hoss started toward the door and Ben followed him.
When
he reached the door, Hoss stopped and peered cautiously inside. He stepped
inside the building and then abruptly stopped again.
Ben
saw the broken glass on the floor and the bullet holes in the door, but he only
noticed them in passing. What riveted his attention was a pair of legs he could
see spread out on the floor. Ben wasn’t as tall as Hoss so he couldn’t see over
the counter as his son could. All Ben could see was a pair of boots and some tan
pants. With his heart in his throat, Ben took a few more steps. Then he froze.
For
a minute, Ben merely stared at Andy’s body on the floor, his brain refusing to
believe the picture his eyes
Kneeling next to Andy’s body on the floor, Ben desperately checked for a pulse,
even though he knew it was futile. Andy’s lifeless body had a pale, bloodless
look to it. Once Ben confirmed what he already knew was true, he dropped his
hands to his side and lowered his head.
As
Hoss watched his father, a pained look crossed his face. He had known Andy
Miller was dead almost as soon as he had seen the body. He felt a strong sense
of anguish, both for the passing of old Andy and for the grief he knew his
father was feeling. Finally, Hoss walked over and put his hand on his father’s
shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said simply.
Nodding, Ben sniffed as he wiped his hand across his face. “Andy was a good
friend.”
Hoss
looked around the shot-up store. “What do you think happened?” he asked. “Where
do you think Joe is?”
Slowly, Ben lifted his head. “I think that man we met and his friends killed
Andy, probably because they wanted the silver he found,” he replied. He looked
around the room, noting with relief what he had seen earlier. There was no one
else in the store. “Joe
As
he continued to look around, Hoss didn’t say anything. Suddenly, he turned and
walked to the front of the store. He picked up Joe’s discarded jacket from the
floor.
Once
more, Ben’s eyes searched the deserted store. He paled as he saw the pool of
dried blood on the floor and the trail of blood smeared across the floor.
Hearing a noise from the street outside, Hoss turned to look out the shattered
window.
“Pa,” said Hoss as he continued to watch the street. “There’s two men out there.
They came out of the restaurant and went into the hardware store.”
Getting to his feet, Ben came over to the window. He watched the empty street
for a minute, then saw the two men come out of the hardware store. Neither
hesitated as they turned and went into the next building.
“Looks to me like they’re searching for something,” remarked Hoss. A grim
expression crossed his face. “Maybe they’re looking for Joe.”
“Joe
must have gotten away from them,” Ben said again. He glanced down to the blood
on the floor. He had no way of telling who had left the trail of blood across
the floor of the store. Nevertheless, his stomach lurched with fear. He grabbed
Hoss’ arm. “We’ve got to find him, Hoss,” said Ben in a worried voice. “We’ve
got to get to Joe before they do.”
Hoss
nodded in agreement. “Where do we start?” he asked.
“I
don’t know,” admitted Ben. He looked at Hoss. “You and Joe explored every inch
of this town when you were boys. Where would he go to hide?”
For
a moment, Hoss looked thoughtful, then shook his head. “Pa, there must be a
dozen places where Joe could hide,” he said in a hopeless voice. “He could be
anywhere.”
Ben
glanced out the window to the still deserted street, then turned back to Hoss.
“We’ve got to start looking,” he urged. “We’ll search every building, look in
every place you boys used to hide. He’s here someplace, Hoss. All we have to do
is find him.”
**********
Phillips and Sam walked down the empty street. They had searched every building
in Hawthorne without finding a trace of the man they were seeking. Phillips felt
the frustration and anger growing in him. He knew the kid was hiding someplace
in the deserted town. He couldn’t believe they had failed to find him.
Anxiously, Billy watched as the two men walked toward him. He knew Phillips had
been mad at him earlier for not paying attention, and he had tried to keep his
attention on the street. But Billy had quickly lost interest in simply gazing at
the empty street. He wanted to get out of Hawthorne. For some reason, the old
ghost town made him uneasy. However, he knew better than to let Phillips know
that.
“See
anything?” asked Phillips as he came up to Billy.
“No,” answered Billy in a firm voice. “I’ve been watching the street. He ain’t
showed his face.”
“He’s got to be here,” Phillips said, his voice full of frustration.
Billy shifted uncomfortably. “Why don’t we just give it up and ride out?” he
asked. “We know where the mine is. Who cares about the kid?”
For
a moment, Phillips stared at Billy in astonishment. “You pea brain!” he
screamed. “If we don’t find that kid, we’ll lose the chance of a lifetime. We’ll
have the law breathing down our necks.”
Billy winced at Phillips angry words. “I was just asking,” he mumbled. “Besides,
the old man is dead. He can’t sign his claim over to us now.”
Rolling his eyes, Phillips looked at Sam and shook his head in disgust. “I
explained this you twice,” he said to Billy. “We don’t need the old man to sign
over his claim. The law says if a mine isn’t worked for a month, it’s considered
to be abandoned. All we have to do is bury the old man and wait a month. Then we
ride into Carson City and claim the mine. There’s nobody who can dispute our
claim.”
“Except that kid,” commented Sam.
“I
don’t like the idea of having to work that mine,” pouted Billy. “I don’t like
being underground.”
“We
aren’t going to work that mine!” cried Phillips in exasperation. “I swear, if
you weren’t my brother, I’d send you packing right now.”
“I
was only saying I don’t like mining,” said Billy in a sullen voice.
“Look,” explained Phillips. “We claim the mine and all that silver. Then we turn
around and sell it to one of the big mining outfits. They’ll pay us maybe
$10,000 each for that mine. And a percentage of the profits. Once we have that
claim, we’ll be set for life. All we have to do is sit back and watch the money
roll in.”
“Except that kid knows we killed the old man and stole his mine,” said Sam, with
a shake of his head.
“And
if we don’t find him, he’ll send the law after us,” agreed Phillips. “We’ll have
to high tail it to Mexico or face a rope.”
“So
what are you going to do?” asked Billy.
“We’re going to search this town again and we’re going to keep looking until we
find him,” answered Phillips. He turned to Sam. “Let’s split up. You take the
side where the store is and I’ll take the side with the hotel. We’ll start up at
the other end of town and work our way back down here. You check every building
and check it good. We’ll flush that kid out.”
“And
if we don’t find him?” asked Sam.
“We’ll find him,” promised Phillips. “There’s no way he can get away. He may
have given himself a few extra hours to live, but that’s all. That kid will be
dead by nightfall.”
**********
Under the floorboards in the old saloon, Joe wondered how much longer he could
stay hidden. He desperately wanted to leave his underground sanctuary. The ache
in his leg was getting worse. He was dirty, tired and thirsty. But the worst was
the heat. Joe felt as if he were burning up.
The
air was thick in the crawl space and Joe thought that was the reason he felt so
warm. He didn’t realize that it was a fever that was causing his body to be
drenched
As
he moved his leg slightly, Joe winced at the pain. A trickle of sweat ran down
his forehead and into his eye. As Joe wiped the salty moisture from his eye, he
wondered again how much longer he could stand being in his safe haven.
************
Ben
crossed the floor of the old saloon as Hoss stood watching by the door. They had
carefully searched the store and the assay office next door, quietly opening
closets and checking every place in which a man could possibly hide. After a
fruitless search of the first two buildings, they had cautiously moved on to the
saloon.
Looking cautiously out the window of the assay office, Ben and Hoss had watched
the three men talking at the end of the street. They also had seen the guard at
the other end of street sit down to rest, his back turned on the town. When they
were convinced that the four men outside were not looking, Ben and Hoss had
quickly slipped out of the assay office and into the saloon.
Now
Hoss watched the street as Ben searched the saloon. Hoss saw the two men walking
up the street, and whistled softly to his father. Ben quickly crouched down next
to the bar, and Hoss pulled himself back into the shadows. The two men walked by
the saloon without stopping.
Both
Ben and Hoss waited until they were sure the men were gone. Then Ben carefully
rose to his feet.
“He’s not here,” said Ben. “I thought sure he would be hiding here. This was one
of his favorite places to play in when he was little.”
Hoss
frowned. Something tickled at the back of his mind. He knew there was something
he should remember about the saloon. He thought hard, but the memory remained
elusive. His recollections of his boyhood explorations of Hawthorne were buried
under years of other memories.
“Let’s try the next building,” suggested Ben with a sigh.
Silently, Hoss looked around the saloon again, trying to find something that
would crystallize the nagging flicker in his head into a clear picture. But
nothing seemed to help. Hoss
Suddenly, the floor swayed beneath Hoss’ feet as a gentle rumble seemed to come
from
Hoss
looked at Ben in surprise. “What was that?” he asked.
“A
mild earthquake, I guess,” answered Ben. “It’s a good thing this town is built
on solid rock.
Hoss
stared at Ben. “Underground…” he said slowly. He looked toward the bar, and the
shattered bottle on the floor. It had landed only inches from a small hole in
the floor. Hoss frowned. The memory he had sought was becoming clearer in his
mind.
Puzzled, Ben looked at Hoss. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
Hoss
didn’t say anything. He cocked his head to the side as he tried to remember. And
then, with a rush, it came to him.
“I
know where he is!” said Hoss excitedly. He walked rapidly across the floor and
knelt down behind the bar. Ben watched with growing confusion; he had looked
behind the bar and found nothing.
***********
Joe
heard the footsteps coming nearer. His hand was searching desperately in the
dark for the gun. He was so weak he had been barely able to grip the gun. The
tremor had startled and scared him, and his arm had crashed against the side of
the crawl space. The gun had fallen from his weakened fingers and slid down the
crawl space. Joe knew the gun was someplace near, but he couldn’t seem to find
it.
The
footsteps seemed to be directly overhead, and Joe’s search became more frantic.
He wanted to put a bullet into whoever opened the trapdoor above him. He didn’t
want to die without a fight.
Suddenly, the trapdoor opened and light streamed into the crawl space. Joe
looked up, trying to hide the fear he felt. The fear quickly turned into
astonishment. Joe blinked his
“Joe!” exclaimed Hoss. Hoss didn’t wait for a reply. He reached down and grabbed
Joe under the arms. Then he pulled his little brother from beneath the floor.
In
stunned silence, Ben watched as Hoss pulled Joe from the crawl space. Then he
rushed over and knelt next to Joe. He felt almost weak with relief at having
found his youngest son. But the knot of fear in his stomach returned as Ben got
a good look at Joe.
Joe’s face was streaked with dirt, and rivulets of sweat ran down his head and
chest. As Hoss pulled him out of the crawl space, Joe had grunted in pain. Ben
could see the large, dark stain of blood on Joe’s thigh. What seemed to be a
dirty rag, also stained with blood, was wrapped around the thigh. Even in the
dim light, Ben could see the unnatural brightness in Joe’s eyes and the flush of
fever.
Quickly, Hoss pulled Joe up to a sitting position, and rested his brother’s back
against the bar. “Little brother, I didn’t think we were ever going to find
you,” said Hoss, his voice filled with relief.
Still shocked, Joe looked at Hoss, then turned his head to look at his father.
He still couldn’t believe they were really in Hawthorne. “What...what are you
doing here?” he asked in a voice filled with surprise.
Before answering, Ben reached over to stroke his son’s head. He could feel the
heat of fever and Joe’s hair was damp with sweat. Ben’s eyes searched his son’s
face with concern as he answered.
With
sorrow in his eyes, Joe fixed his gaze on his father. “Andy’s dead.”
Ben
nodded. “I know,” he replied. “We found him over at the store.”
Slowly, Joe lowered his eyes. “Andy didn’t want to tell them about the mine,”
explained Joe in a choked voice. “He only did it to save me.” Joe shook his
head. “He was a good friend, Pa. I never realized how good until now.”
“I
know, son,” Ben comforted his son, gently stroking Joe’s head.
“We
almost made it,” added Joe in a tired voice. In his fevered state, Joe didn’t
realize he was rambling on. “We almost got away. Three of them went to look at
the mine. I knocked out the one they left behind. I tried to get Andy out of
there. But Phillips came back just as we got to the wagon. I tried to pull Andy
down, but it was too late. There were too many bullets. Andy got hit, and so did
I. All I could do was watch him die.”
“It’s all right, Joe,” Ben assured him softly. “You did the best you could. I’m
sure Andy knew that.” Ben took his hand from Joe’s head and laid it on his son’s
shoulder. “At least you were with Andy when it happened. I’m sure that meant
something to him.”
Suddenly, Joe stiffened and winced in pain. Ben frowned with concern, then
turned to his other son. “Hoss, check his leg,” ordered Ben in a worried voice.
Bending down, Hoss untied the cloth around Joe’s leg. He tried to be gentle, but
Joe groaned as Hoss undid the knot and eased the cloth off his brother's leg.
Hoss pulled open
As
he leaned back against the bar, Joe closed his eyes. He was breathing rapidly,
and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead once more.
Frantically, Ben looked around. “We need something to clean out that wound, and
some clean cloth for a bandage.”
Hoss
looked thoughtful for a moment. His memories of exploring the old saloon had
come back with a rush when he recalled the trapdoor. He sorted through the
memories.
“I
know where we can find what we need,” Hoss stated.
Getting to his feet, Hoss took a large step across Joe’s legs, then walked
rapidly to the other end of the bar. Then he bent down and pulled out an old box
from under the bar. He blew the thick layer of dust off the top of the box, then
pulled the lid off.
The
box was filled with towels. The first towel in the box was yellow with age and
sprinkled with dust. Hoss ignored the it, and plunged his hand deep into the
box. He pulled a handful of towels from the bottom of the box. These towels had
a slightly
As
he unbent his large body, Hoss looked around. The bottles on the shelf behind
the bar were covered
Laying on its side behind the two bottles was another whiskey bottle. Only this
one wasn’t empty. A small amount of brown liquid was visible inside the bottle.
It wasn’t very much
Blowing the dust off the bottle, Hoss returned to Ben and Joe. Ben looked at his
son with a question on his face.
“This was mine and Joe’s private stash,” explained Hoss with a small smile. “We
found it one day when we were playing in here. We hid it so it wouldn’t get
thrown out. We kept saying we were going to taste it, but neither one of us ever
got up enough nerve to do it.”
“I
would have blistered your backsides if you had,” said Ben with mock sternness.
He took the bottle from Hoss and held it up. Less than a half inch of whiskey
sloshed around in the bottle. “It’s not much,” added Ben softly.
“It’s all we’ve got,” remarked Hoss as he took a step over Joe’s legs. He looked
at Ben with a grim expression as he knelt next to Joe and held out his hand for
the bottle. “You’d better hold him,” Hoss suggested as he took the bottle from
Ben’s hand.
Laying against the bar with his eyes closed, Joe felt too weak and tired to care
about what his father and brother were doing. He felt someone push him forward a
bit and then felt two hands grabbing his shoulders. Joe’s head flopped to the
left and rested against the strong arm that held him.
Suddenly, Joe stiffened and gasped in pain as he felt a hot, searing liquid on his leg. The liquid seemed to be burning itself into his thigh.