Canyon of Death

CANYON

OF

DEATH

The Jake Silver Adventure Series: Book III

Jere D. James

The Jake Silver Adventure Series Titles

Saving Tom Black – Book I

2009

Apache – Book II

2010

Canyon of Death – Book III

2011

High Country Killers – Book IV

2012

Back from the Dead – Book V

2013

CANYON OF DEATH

Jere D. James

Copyright Jere D James 2011

Moonlight Mesa Associates, Inc. has the exclusive rights to publish and distribute this title and to grant distribution rights to others.

Published by

Moonlight Mesa Associates, Inc. at

SMASHWORDS

ISBN: 978-1-938628-05-4

LCCN: 2011931603

This book does not contain the photos that are included in the trade paperback edition

CHAPTER ONE

BEEN expecting you, Ben McGraw said as dust-covered, exhausted Marshal Jake Silver walked toward the Kaibito Trading Post.

Jake slowed, uncertain what that greeting meant. He studied McGraw, who was standing in the doorway of the stone building, seeing worry deeply etched in the burly man’s face and eyes. Ben McGraw’s whole posture indicated trouble.

An avalanche of possibilities cascaded through Jake’s mind. He kept his eyes planted on McGraw, and sure enough, the man looked down, unable to bear his penetrating gaze.

Neither spoke for a moment as they stood, face to face. What, Jake stated, more than asked.

She’s here. Indians brought her in yesterday.

Jake shoved past McGraw, forcing his way into the open room. Where is she?

Jake, before you see her, I gotta warn you. She’s not good. McGraw turned to follow Jake into the room.

Where is she? Jake demanded, louder.

She’s with Tilly. Shimasani’s there, too. McGraw firmly grabbed Jake’s arm. Listen to me. Stop a damn minute and listen.

Despite his angst, Jake stood, waiting for the sinister news.

She’s not good. But there’s hope. The doc from Freeman is on his way. Should be here tomorrow. McGraw paused before continuing. I’m real sorry.

Jake stood a moment longer, his heart thumping. He hesitated before the heavy Navajo blanket that separated the sleeping quarters from the trading center, steeling himself. What’s happened to her, Ben? he asked, stalling. Help me out here.

The large man gently placed his hand on Jake’s shoulder. She’s been beat up pretty bad. The Indians found her in the desert. They kept her for a few days before bringing her here. Apparently, she was ‘most dead when they found her. They didn’t think she’d survive the trip here without some o’ their care first. Pausing, McGraw cleared his throat. They brought her in two days ago. She don’t look too good, but she’s holding her own as far as we can tell. Not gettin’ worse, anyway. I’m real sorry to have to tell you this.

Jake took a long, deep breath, and entered the curtained room. A small window emitted enough light that he could see Betsy’s bruised and battered face. Clumps of her long, blonde hair had been torn from her head. She looked so fragile, forlorn, and helpless lying in the middle of the bed. His breath jerked in, and he stifled a groan of anguish, instantly followed by a spasm of rage, then swiftly collapsing to a profound sense of grief and sorrow.

Tilly McGraw sat by Betsy’s side holding vigil over the sleeping girl. On the other side of the bed, an older Indian woman, a Navajo called only Shimasani who lived with the local medicine man, mumbled incoherently in a sing-song voice, rocking slowly to and fro. Upon Jake’s arrival Mrs. McGraw stood, motioning for him to take her place.

Sitting heavily, Jake felt the energy sucked from him. He held motionless for a moment, unable to tear his eyes from the floor to look Betsy full in the face. When finally he did so, he saw a swollen, blue eye watching him, the other eye, only a slit, unable to open. No smile. No tears. No sign of recognition crossed her face. Slowly, her eye closed, and her breath came in little puffs as she quivered slightly.

Betsy, Jake whispered. I’m here. I’m here. I’m never gonna leave you again. His throat constricted. My god, what had he done? This was all his fault. No one’s fault but his.

He had no idea how long he sat, holding Betsy’s small, delicate hand in his large, calloused one. At last, and for the first time in Jake’s life, he prayed, bartering with God, pleading with Him, begging, finally demanding that He let her live.

Darkness fell, and suddenly he became aware of Tilly touching him lightly on the shoulder. Jake, come eat something, she spoke softly. Shimasani will not leave her side. Come. Like a child, he arose and silently followed the slight woman, wanting only for someone to guide him at this moment through the helplessness and uselessness that he felt in the face of Betsy’s condition.

In contrast to the darkness in his heart, the trading post glowed warmly with candlelight and a crackling hearth. Slowly, Jake became aware of the smell of venison stew. He hadn’t felt hungry until that moment, although it’d been a full day since he’d eaten.

I’ll go wash up and check on the horse, he said quietly.

I fed and watered him already, Jake. You can give him more, though. He’s still acting hungry, McGraw’s tone suggested a nonchalance and assurance he clearly didn’t feel.

Once outside, Jake revived in the cool night air. Apache, the Arab-quarter horse cross, whinnied demandingly and trotted to the fence in greeting. When Jake’d left Prescott in pursuit of Betsy and her abductor, the horse had still been half wild. In its vigor and drive, the feral mount easily managed seventy miles a day without breaking a sweat, demanding an experienced, strong rider to maintain control. Betsy’d bought this fine stud at auction a few months before. The girl had a natural eye for good livestock, that was certain. Perhaps her idea of raising breeding stock wasn’t as silly as he’d then insinuated.

He gently stroked the horse’s muzzle as he recalled back to well over a year ago when he’d first stopped at this trading post. Strange, he thought. He’d been hunting Geiger then but hadn’t known it at the time, and he’d been trying to forget Betsy, to erase her from his head – and heart. He’d failed at both.

Well, we found her, Apache, Jake spoke quietly to the horse as he forked an extra ration of hay over the fence. Not like I hoped, or expected, but we found her. Washing up in tepid water sitting in a basin on the back porch, a sense of starvation and exhaustion nearly swamped him. He realized he’d been tracking either his sister or Betsy for nigh onto almost what, three or four months, living out of the saddle and on what he could shoot or scavenge. He’d stay here for a few days and rest up before this journey’s deadly finale. He wanted to be present when the doctor examined Betsy, and he desperately wanted to see an improvement in her before he left on his hunt for the foul perpetrator of this heinous crime, Johnny Geiger. Realizing what he intended, he removed his badge, pocketing it in his vest for the second time since serving as U.S. Deputy Marshal.

Both McGraw and his wife cast baleful glances at Jake throughout the mostly silent meal. Tilly kept forcing food on him until he grew embarrassed. Jake Silver, I want you to eat every morsel. You look positively haggard, young man.

Now, Tilly. The man knows when he’s had enough, McGraw said, coming to Jake’s rescue.

Turning upon her husband, the tiny woman shook her serving spoon at him. Ben McGraw, you just let me take care of this man. He’s going to need every bit of strength he can muster.

Silence fell as each person pondered the meaning of her statement. Finally, McGraw spoke. Jake, for right now, you need to forget about whoever it is you’re after. This isn’t the time.

Pushing himself from the table, Jake looked long and hard into McGraw’s eyes. The meal had given him a renewed vigor. Power and anger spurred him now, replacing his earlier feelings of sorrow and defeat. You’re wrong, Ben. Now is the time. You don’t know this jackal. He’s evil. Pure and simple. Rotten through and through. He’s known for beating up and abusing women, children, crippled folk. He uses black folk as target practice. His time’s up, and I’m the man who’s going to end it for him.

Jake, you’re upset. Betsy needs you right now. This isn’t the time to take off, McGraw repeated, more forcefully.

I’ll stick around for a few days, but I’m going to end this sooner than later. She’ll never be safe…. Jake started to say that their child would never be safe either, but suddenly he stopped, wondering if a baby could withstand what’d just happened to the mother. In the shock of seeing Betsy so battered, he’d forgotten about her pregnancy.

Is she…is she still…. He paused, uncertain how to ask, his voice breaking.

What is it? McGraw asked solicitously.

Is she still…with child? Jake asked, fearing the answer he might hear.

It seems she is, Tilly spoke up. I didn’t know if you knew. The doctor can confirm this, but Shimasani’s chants are for the delivery of a healthy boy. The old grandmother refers to him with the Hopi name, Tiponi, Child of Importance.

My god! A flood of warmth raced to Jake’s face. Would the baby be okay? If Betsy were half dead, how could the baby possibly live? Questions rushed through his mind, but he kept them to himself.

We’ll know when the doctor arrives, Tilly said, reading Jake’s face. My concern at this point, though, is Betsy, not the baby.

Jake nodded in understanding. I should never have left her. Yet, as he spoke he knew that there’d have been trouble even if he’d been in Prescott simply doing his job. Johnny Geiger brought trouble, pain, and death with him wherever he rode.

Who is this guy? What happened? McGraw asked.

I’ve been gone a long time, Jake began wearily. I went to Tombstone to find my sister who’s had her own problems. It took me longer than I’d planned to find her and then get her to safety. That’s a story for another day, but when I got back to Prescott I found Betsy gone and her ranch hand shot. He may even be dead by now. Geiger left his name and location – taunting me, daring me. He’s expecting a final showdown, and he’s going to get one that he never imagined.

So, who’s Betsy to you? If’n you don’t mind my askin’? McGraw asked gently.

I planned on marrying her when I got back to Prescott – if she’d have me. I didn’t know she was carrying my child, Jake fumbled for words, bothered that he’d caused Betsy the embarrassment of carrying a child without being rightly married. Just found out when I got back. Virginia Hall told me. She’s taking care of Betsy’s ranch hand right now. She’s been a good friend, kind of a mother, really, to Betsy since I took Betsy to Prescott after she ran away from the orphan train. Jake paused, then smiled. That’s another long story.

My my. You do lead an interesting life, Marshal, and have interesting acquaintances! But you’re right, Tilly said with matronly concern. You need to do right by this girl and marry her just as soon’s you can. Who do we know can perform this ceremony, Ben?

Well, that jackass minister in Freeman could, but he’ll never get on out here.

What about Koteche, Shimasani’s husband?

Now, Tilly, they don’t want to be married by no Indian medicine man. Besides, who’d recognize that as a real marriage?

Well, Jake and Betsy would until they could get a preacher in Prescott, the small, feisty woman retorted.

McGraw waved his hand in consternation.

Well, it’s mighty nice that you’re both wanting the best for Betsy, Jake said, but she may not have me after this. She’s a pretty independent young woman, and I’ve come to realize I’m not the best catch. I don’t deserve someone as good as her, Jake said, sadness evident in his voice. My sister recently put me in my place. So did an Apache. I’m not nearly good enough for that girl in there, no matter how much I’ve come to know that I love her. Jake stopped, his face flushing. He’d never spoken so openly about his feelings. Now he bristled slightly. Guess we’ll see. I’m not putting my hopes on it, but whether she marries me or not, I’ll spend the rest of my life making this up to her, that much I swear.

You’re a good man, Jake, but like most men foolish at times. Don’t be too hard on yourself. There’s hope for you. Tilly smiled kindly, laying her hand on his arm. Why don’t you go on in and stay with her tonight? You’ve got to be dead tired. I laid some blankets out for you on the floor by the bed. It’ll do both of you a world of good to be together.

Thank you, Miz McGraw. Think I’ll do that. You’re right. I’m plumb exhausted. Jake stood. I’m curious how you knew I came here looking for her, though.

It was writ on your face when you rode up, Jake. Could’a read it a mile away, McGraw said.

Tilly smiled. What Ben says is true, but she’s talked a few times, especially the first night here. That’s how we come to know her name, and when she mentioned yours, we knew you’d be coming along.

Jake nodded, hope welling. Mighty fine dinner. The best I’ve had since I can’t remember when. Thank you both. He paused a moment longer. I’ll never forget that I’m deeply indebted to you. Not sure how I can ever repay you, but know I’ll be there if you’re ever in need. Ever.

CHAPTER TWO

EVEN before she heard his voice, the familiar footfall announced his arrival. Betsy floated in and out of consciousness and heard only the occasional sound of people’s voices, not their words, but when he touched her, the hand felt familiar. She fought to open her eyes, but only one obeyed. Yes, Jake sat by her side, so serious, sadness written on his face and in his posture. Don’t be sad, she wanted to tell him. You found me. She needed him desperately, and he’d come, just like she knew he would. He’d found her, at last, and now she could sleep without seeing the fist streaking toward her. Jake would stop the fist. She wanted only to curl up in his arms and sleep with the beat of his heart in her ears, and the slow, steady warmth of his breath caressing her.

She drifted to sleep yet again, finally relaxing as a sense of peace settled over her. The singing of the old grandmother soothed her, and she sensed a cocoon of safety form. Jake had found her, just like she’d told the nasty, brutal Johnny man that he would. But Johnny, impatient, had hurt her, then dumped her in the desert to die, baking by day, shivering at night. Until the strange men came and took her away – somewhere.

She remembered Indians carrying her to the house of two white people. For awhile she awoke and talked. Something the Indians gave her had revived her, but then she fell asleep, the sleep of death it seemed, and she couldn’t awaken. She could smell him now, though, and it was the smell of horse, leather, desert air, and a Jake aroma that made her drunk with happiness.

Unaware of time, Betsy opened her one good eye the next morning to see him on the floor beside her, his face thinner than when she’d said goodbye to him. His whiskered, handsome face and his deep, gentle breathing brought a surge of happiness and strength to her. Even in sleep his strength invigorated her. Involuntarily, her hand went to her swelling tummy. Yes, Jake’s baby still lived. She’d protected him from the bad man’s blows. She must eat, she realized. The baby needed food. She must get well quickly and regain her strength. She had to go home. Thomas Jefferson, her friend and ranch manager, would need her. That Johnny man had shot Thomas. Betsy needed to help him. The baby had to be born at home. Jake had to take her home. Her mind fluttered with thoughts, worries, dreams.

Suddenly she saw him looking at her, and her small smile in greeting caused her to wince. Her jaw ached. She reached out, and he quickly knelt by her side, pressing her hand to his lips. Neither spoke, each searching for signs of love in the other’s eyes.

Betsy, I love you. I’m here. I’ll never leave you again, Jake whispered.

But even as he spoke, a dark realization descended on her, smothering her momentary happiness. No, he would leave, even though he meant what he now said. He would never fully be there with her, and that thought brought tears. She tried to speak but winced in pain when she moved her mouth.

Don’t talk. Your jaw’s bruised. He gently raised her to a sitting position, holding her tenderly, but tears of sorrow and fear flowed down her cheeks. Yes, he would leave again…and again.

He said he’d get you, Jake, she finally managed to mutter. I’m afraid.

Shh. Don’t you worry none, missy. No one’s going to get me. No one’s going to hurt you again, you hear me? No one, Betsy. He paused. I just don’t know the words to tell you.

She closed her eye and clung to the thread of happiness he’d offered. She would love him to her dying day, and she understood that he’d love her as best he could. She couldn’t ask for more. But all of a sudden a tiny, almost inaudible voice whispered to her that she hated him, and that realization shocked her. She must shut that voice up.

Take me home, Jake. I want to go home.

Soon. You need to rest up first. Get better. I’ll take you home then. I got a little business to attend to, then we’ll leave.

No, Jake. Take me home now, please. She weakly wrapped her arms about him and buried her face in his neck. I don’t want you going after that man. I need you now! Jake, I’m having a baby. Your baby, she blurted, her jaw aching fiercely. This isn’t how I wanted to tell you.

He smiled at her. I know. Virginia told me.

Are you mad?

"Don’t