Shadow of Legends

by Stephen A. Bly

  “You go check on the doctor.” Todd let Dover untie his own feet as he scooted over to the next bound man to remove his gag.

  “Mr. Olene?”

  “My word, Fortune, I can’t believe it’s you. I had said my final prayers and bid this world adieu.”

  Todd worked to untie the man’s hands. “Sorry to delay your final trip.”

  “Oh no, that’s quite alright. I do trust this doesn’t make me beholding in a business deal,” Olene muttered.

  “I can assure you, Mr. Olene, the hardware business is far from my mind.”

  “Mr. Fortune,” Dover called out. “Dr. Gordon’s seriously ­wounded!”

  Todd scampered to the corner of the building. Dr. Philip Gordon, Jr. was propped against a wall, clutching his bloody vest.

  “Fortune!” Dr. Gordon sputtered. “I trust you have a posse with you.” He looked toward the doorway. “Where did they all come from?”

  The entire gang, from Mrs. Speaker to Little Amber, lined up inside the room, staring at the men on the floor.

  “This is my posse. Actually, we were all out for a picnic.”

  “What?” Gordon roared. “You purposely endangered the lives of women and children.”

  “It seemed like a safe day for a ride. But who would be dumb enough to rob the Sunday stage? There’s never any money in the box and seldom many travelers.” Todd tugged off his bandanna and swabbed it on Dr. Gordon’s wound.

  “There was treasure this time,” Olene quipped from across the room.

  “What do you mean?” Todd barked as the doctor took over his own care.

  Dover waved toward the unconscious Lander. “There were three gold bars. I saw them.”

  “This isn’t the treasure coach,” Todd protested. “It goes out tomorrow, with armed messengers. What are you talking about?”

  Olene hunkered down next to Elijah Lander. “Oh, there was treasure, alright. We didn’t know it, but Lander did. And the outlaws did. Wells Fargo will definitely hear from me about this. They endangered the lives of passengers, without proper protection.”

  Todd, still on his knees, sat back on the heels of his boots. “Why was there gold?”

  “Maybe Lander was worried about not having his regular messengers tomorrow, and decided to slip it out early,” Dacee June offered from the lineup across the room. “Maybe he figured no one would suspect the Sunday coach.”

  “Todd, what can we do to help?” Rebekah called from the far side of the room.

  Todd felt the eyes of everyone on him, waiting his decision. No . . . I’m not the one. I’m the wrong Fortune. You want the old man. He’ll whip things into shape . . . doctor the injured . . . chase down the outlaws . . . take care of the women and children . . . oh, Lord . . . what am I doing here?

  “Todd?” Rebekah reiterated.

  “OK, look . . .” For a moment he felt like a lone wolf cornered in a box canyon. But he knew it was time to turn and run right at them. “Here’s what we have to do. Doc, you’re goin’ to have to tell us how to patch up you and Lander. You got a kit?”

  “On the stage. The black valise,” he replied, all arrogance whipped out of him.

  “I’ll go get it,” Carty offered.

  “You don’t know a thing in the world about assisting a doctor,” Abigail said, “but I do. I’ll dress the wounds.”

  “You’ll need some help.”

  “I’ll help her,” Rebekah said.

  “You can’t . . . ,” Todd cautioned. “You don’t like the sight of blood.”

  “I can change,” she murmured. Rebekah grabbed the bag from Carty and scampered over to Abigail.

  “OK, folks,” Todd offered. “This is a day for doing new things. Mrs. O’Neill, perhaps this is a good time to take Amber for a walk.”

  “Oh . . . my, yes . . . would you like to assist me, Mrs. Speaker?”

  “Most definitely. I believe I spotted some Frasera speciosa.”

  “What’s that?” Amber asked, clutching both of the older ladies’ hands.

  “It’s what Professor Edwards calls a monument plant,” Thelma announced as they scooted out.

  Todd waved at the short man with the crumpled suit. “Mr. Dover, search the stagecoach and see if there’s a lantern. We’ll need more light in here.”

  “What can I do?” Carty called.

  “You check out the other room in this building and the stage. See how many saddles we can find.”

  “We going after them?” Carty grilled.

  “If we have enough saddles.”

  “My word,” Olene groused, “we can let the lawmen ride after them, can’t we?”

  “Mr. Olene, we are the law. By the time the sheriff gets back and makes his way out here, these men can be hidden in the real Badlands.” He waved his arm toward the northeast. “Olene, go through the bags on the stage and get anything clean we can use for rags.”

  Todd crawled over to Lander. “Lil’ Sis, come hold your hand on this wound.”

  Dacee June scampered over and clamped her hand down tight on the bloody chest of Elijah Lander.

  Todd went back to where Rebekah and Abigail knelt by Dr. Gordon. “How did this happen, Doc?”

  “They knew the gold was there. Lander pulled out a gun to protect it, and they just shot him.”

  “How about you?”

  “I, eh . . . ,” He murmured. “I acted rather foolish. They­ ­demanded my wallet, and I . . .”

  “You pulled a sneak gun?” Todd questioned.

  “I attempted to.”

  “How much was in the wallet?”

  “A hundred dollars, I suppose.”

  “Hardly worth it, was it?” Todd motioned to the unconscious Elijah Lander. “As soon as the ladies patch you up, maybe you could tell them what to do with Lander.”

  “Drag me over there; let’s take care of him first.”

  Todd stared down at the doctor. “Are you sure?”

  “Just get me over there.”

  Dover lit a lantern.

  Olene stacked a half dozen revolvers, a shotgun, and a pile of shirts on the floor.

  Carty Toluca stuck his head in the doorway. “We got three regular saddles and an old McClellan,” he reported.

  “Carty, come with me. The rest of you stay here and do whatever the doc tells you,” Todd instructed.

  “You aren’t going after them without me,” Dacee June protested.

  “We’re just going to look for signs. We’ll be right back.”

  Todd and Carty circled the corrals twice, getting a clear picture of the outlaws’ trail. All the time he kept expecting Carty to say, “I wish Daddy Brazos was here.”

  He never did.

  When they got back to the porch, Dacee June, Watson Dover, and Tobias Olene waited for them.

  “Carty, saddle up the four best ponies,” Todd ordered.

  “Who’s going to ride?” Carty asked. “I’d like to go with you. I ain’t never rode with a Fortune before. I’d sort of like to have somethin’ to tell my grandchildren about someday.”

  “Grandchildren?” Dacee June hooted. “That’s being very presumptuous, isn’t it?”

  “Thank ya, Dacee June. I was hopin’ you’d see it my way.”

  “What way? You had no idea what I . . .”

  “Carty, you’re going with me. Olene and Dover, I need you to grab a weapon and ride along.”

  “That’s absurd,” Olene protested. “I most certainly will not endanger my life over a matter that does not concern me.”

  “They shot two men in front of your eyes. It concerns you a lot” Todd insisted.

  “I will not endanger my life,” Olene insisted, raw panic in his eyes.

  “I’ll go,” Dover offered. �
�I am not much of a horseman, but I’m a fair shot with a target rifle.”

  “Thanks, Dover. Go help Carty saddle the horses,” Todd instructed.

  “You’ve got to let me go, Todd. Let me ride in that fourth saddle,” Dacee June pleaded.

  Todd stared at Olene, “It isn’t much of a man who’d let a girl do his fighting for him. Are you riding with us, Olene?”

  “Absolutely not!”

  “Wash that blood off your hands and ride with us, Girl. Daddy will never forgive me if you get hurt.”

  “But he’d take me with him if he were here.”

  “You’re right about that. Go get the others. We need to talk.”

  Todd gathered the whole crew into the tollhouse. It’s like a play and everyone is waiting for me to say my lines. Only, I’m not sure what my lines are supposed to be. This is Daddy Brazos’s part. I’m just the understudy. He pushed his hat back and cleared his throat. “How are the wounded?”

  “We’ve got the bleeding stopped in both men,” Abigail reported. “Dr. Gordon wants me to try and remove the bullet from Lander first. He think’s he might pass out when we remove his bullet, and he would be of no help to Mr. Lander.”

  “How’s your helper? Has she fainted out yet?”

  “I’m doing alright,” Rebekah offered. “The doctor carries smelling salts in his case.”

  “Mrs. O’Neill and Mrs. Speaker, keep Amber on the porch, but don’t wander off just in case the ladies need a hand.”

  Thelma Speaker fidgeted with her gloves. “And perhaps we could build a fire and boil some tea?”

  “Eh . . . yes . . . that would be helpful.” Todd watched Olene cowering at the door as he spoke. “The outlaws took off in the general direction of Redbud Cave. I reckon we have their relay horses. We missed them riding down, because we swung down to the Sturgis Road. They were countin’ on loadin’ the gold on the three big horses and ridin’ the others. They’ll ride their ponies into the ground, thinking they have remounts. So we should be able to catch up with them. Dover, Carty, and Dacee June and I will see what we can find. At least we can mark the trail for the sheriff to pick up later.”

  “What about Mr. Olene?” Rebekah asked from her kneeling position beside Elijah Lander.

  “Olene refuses to ride.”

  “What?” Rebekah gulped.

  “I’ll ride, alright.” Olene stomped to the middle of the room. “I insist on driving the carriage back to town immediately. I will send others back to help.”

  “You’d drive off and leave the women and the wounded?” Carty asked.

  “They may come along with me, if they so choose. I am not remaining here so that the brigands can return to shoot the rest of us.”

  Todd’s fist caught the Cleveland businessman in the stomach. He staggered back, slammed his head on a doorpost, and dropped to the floor.

  “Todd!” Rebekah called out.

  “Tie him up, Carty. I’m not having anyone drive off in that carriage by himself. We’ll be back in at least two hours. But I want you to load up the wounded men in that carriage and drive back to town whenever they are able to ride. If you’re gone when we return, we’ll meet you in town. Meanwhile ladies, keep one of these revolvers close-by, for protection.”

  “What are we protecting ourselves from?” Rebekah asked.

  “Pure, unadulterated evil,” he replied.

  Todd volunteered to use the old McClellan saddle. Carty led the way along the muddy tracks. “Ain’t going to be hard to track ’em. Heavy loaded horses in the mud leave lots of signs.”

  Todd crammed his tie into his coat pocket, his white shirt still buttoned at the top. “We have two advantages. We know we’re on their trail. They don’t. Second, they think they have relay horses stashed. We know better.” He rode the long-legged black horse whose only gait seemed to be a gallop.

  Watson Dover bounced on a wide-rumped bay horse, the stagecoach shotgun perched on his lap. “I can’t believe I’m doing this . . . riding in a posse after stagecoach robbers and killers. It’s like I’m living out one of those dime novels. I don’t know whether to shout or wet my trousers.”

  Dacee June insisted on straddling the horse with her long skirt. Todd banished her to riding at the back. She offered only mild protest.

  Todd signaled a stop at Boulder Creek to water the horses.

  Carty rode up alongside Todd. “I cain’t figure this out. Them two was terrorizing town, then they took off goin’ south, leadin’ the sheriff away from town, then sneakin’ over here to the east and robbed the stagecoach. Why was they hasslin’ us in town?”

  Todd slipped to the ground. “Part revenge. Part diversion. If they kept us in our houses and the treasure messengers preoccupied, they could pull off a robbery with none of us expecting it. Especially when Lander decided to try this fool stunt of his and shipped unguarded bullion.” Todd yanked the cinch tight on his saddle. He inspected the cracked leathers of the old McClellan.

  Dover rode up, half standing in the stirrups, to the relief of his tender backside. “What’s our plan if we do catch up with them? Are we actually going to have a shoot-out? I find this incredible. Watson Dover riding with a posse chasing stagecoach robbers.”

  Todd surveyed his posse of two teenagers and a Chattanooga lawyer. Alright, Daddy Brazos, this is not exactly your type of gang. “Personally, I’m praying they throw down their weapons and surrender. Aren’t you?”

  From the ponderosa pines below the cave entrance, all four surveyed the Smile in the Mountain.

  “You see anything?” Carty quizzed.

  “Nope,” Todd said. “If they are up there, they are hiding at the back.”

  “Why would they do that?” Dacee June asked.

  “Because they spotted us and want to set an ambush.”

  “That’s a happy thought. I would rather not end up shot like the doctor and that Lander fellow,” Dover added.

  Todd Fortune slipped down out of the saddle. “Dover, take your shotgun and slip around there to the left. Dacee June, you do the same on the right. Carty, help me pull the saddles off the horses.”

  Carty Toluca jumped to the ground. “What are we going to do?”

  “You and I will stay behind the horses, but try to herd them up the hill a little. If you were restin’ in that cave and glanced down to see the missing horses grazing down below, you’d come running down after them, wouldn’t you?”

  “I reckon so.”

  “We’ve got to sucker them out of that cave.”

  Todd and Carty, guns in hand, pushed the horses out of the pines and up the meadowed slope.

  Carty’s voice was low. “Do you see anything yet?”

  “Still looks empty from here.”

  “We push these ponies any higher, they’ll be able to spot us,” Carty stewed.

  Todd cocked the hammer on his .45 Smith and Wesson. “I’m going to take a peek.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Pray.”

  Todd stepped out from the protection of the horses and hiked slowly toward the cave entrance. There was nothing between him and the cave entrance. Lord, this is either the bravest thing I’ve ever done or the stupidest. But I have to do it. It was my home they broke into, my wife they tied up, my store they busted up, my friend they shot. This is the moment of destiny where I take care of my own, where I remove the threat. No longer dependent on my father, but I trust in You to lead me . . . and protect me.

  His boot heels made no sound in the wet ground around the scattered sage, but his revolver hung heavy in his hand, his finger turned cold as it clutched the trigger. He spotted Dover on the left, Dacee June on the right. His hat, pulled low over his eyes, caught the heartbeat throb in his temples. He held the pistol straight out in front of him, peering down its sights as he ai
med it at the cave. His eyes searched for any sign of movement. He took a deep breath, crested the sloping hill, and stared inside the cave.

  He let out a long . . . slow . . . sigh.

  Lord, I might of overdramatized this a tad. The absolute turning point in my life ends up being an empty cave? Like the rest of my life, this was just a dry run, a practice.

  “What do you see?” Carty shouted from below.

  “No one’s here!” he called out.

  All four resaddled and mounted, then circled the cave for signs. Carty spotted the tracks first. “Did they have a wagon? They seem to be trailing this wagon track.”

  “That’s our carriage tracks,” Todd exclaimed. “They’re trailing us! They figured people in the wagon hauled off their horses, so they’re going to track them down.”

  “All the way back to the tollhouse?” Carty asked.

  “They don’t know where the wagon tracks lead. They’ll follow them out to the Sturgis road. But our carriage is obviously headed back to Deadwood, so they won’t follow it far. They’ll have to ride out into the real Badlands, broken down horses and all.”

  “Will we follow them out there?” Dover asked.

  “No, we’ll mark their trail, then break off and go back to town. At least we’ll be able to send the sheriff in the right direction.”

  “No gunfight?” Dacee June whined.

  Todd’s stern glance silenced his sister. He led them in a canter down the trail they had covered earlier in the day. The sun dropped behind the hills as they skirted the eastern edges near the Sturgis road. Scattered clouds and evening dimmed visibility, even though it was a couple of hours until dark. The rain had taken away the advantage of dust clouds that followed riders in a Dakota summer. Todd slowed down to a trot, knowing it’s always possible at any moment to come upon the outlaws.

  When they reached the road breaking off to Sturgis, Todd reined up. The others pulled alongside.

  Carty read the tracks. “They didn’t go to Sturgis! That means . . .”

  “The tollhouse! They’re still following the carriage.” Todd slammed the heels of his boots into the flanks of the black horse and wished for spurs. He knew the other horses were dropping behind, but he didn’t turn to look or slow down. Somewhere down the road, a gust of wind caught his hat and blew it off his head. He didn’t slow down a step.