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Post by Tim on Mar 29, 2020 12:06:25 GMT -5
Ah, more videos to show the songs included
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Post by ladyfiaran22 on Mar 30, 2020 8:51:49 GMT -5
Chapter 8
"Sheriff Beckett, Deputy Petrucci! This is real bad", said Jasper Kearns, a cowboy from a nearby ranch.
Nathan set down the cads as they got up from the table. "What's the matter?", he asked.
"I was riding to the line shack 'cause it's my turn for that. I saw a coach on its side and this fella with his brains blowed out, he was a real bad mess and the buzzards was already on him. Looked like a city fella, he was wearing sharp duds", said Jasper.
"Damn, that's the second robbery this month. Dante, get someone else to come along too, I got the extra badge", said Nathan.
Dante took the cheap deputy star and walked towards the saloon. "There's been a robbery of a stagecoach and a passenger was murdered. I need to deputize someone to help us", he said.
Clay heard him and put down his guitar. "I'll go, what do you need?", he asked.
"Nathan can loan you a horse and bring your guns, Signore Butler. This is the second robbery this month and a man was shot and the buzzards have already started their work. Are you sure?", asked Dante.
Clay nodded. "Buono, follow me", said Dante.
Clay followed Dante to the office. Nathan was ready to go with two pistols held securely in his holster and his sheriff's star pinned to his shirt. "All right, don't know if the robbers are still around here, maybe there's a pattern. Just stay alert for anything", he said as they mounted their horses.
Clay was glad he knew how to ride as he mounted the brown gelding, having learned at summer camp. It was still before noon but it was already hot and going to be hotter that afternoon, the sun shining brightly with no clouds to block the heat. The group followed Jasper as he led them towards the fallen carriage, the flat desert with its stunted trees and bushes avoided by the horses because of their sharp spines.
It was easy to tell when they were close because of the buzzards circling overhead and the stench of their prey. The coach was turned over on its side and the horses were gone, the body of the unfortunate man being pecked over by the ugly black birds. It was a hideous sight, the man's skin torn off to reveal the pink flesh and muscles underneath with blood smeared everywhere and the entrails scattered about. The man's head was a mess, the lower half of his face blown away and the top half having the skin removed by the buzzards and glimpses of skull showing underneath.
"Madre Dio, poor man", said Dante as he shook his head and Nathan just grunted.
Clay felt bile rise in his throat at the sight, easily the grossest, most disgusting thing he'd ever seen. Damn, this is worse than a horror movie, he thought, trying to keep calm.
Nathan shooed the birds away and carefully turned over the corpse as he looked for a wallet. The wallet's leather was hot from the sun and a bit sticky from blood as he opened it. Inside were a few dollar bills and coins, the coach ticket, a photograph of a young woman in a lacy wedding dress and card from a patent medicine company which identified him as Marvin Jones of St. Louis, Missouri.
"Poor bastard", he muttered.
Meanwhile, Dante had noticed that a trunk had fallen out of the coach. The flimsy lock gave way easily and revealed women's clothes and toiletries as he cursed softly in Italian. "Madre Dio. Nathan, I think there were women on the coach, there are women's clothes in the trunk", he said.
Nathan frowned when he saw the trunk, his mouth set in a grim line. "Shit. Reckon whoever shot this Jones fella took the women, I don't see other bodies round here. That might be worse than being dead", he said.
"What do you mean?", asked Clay.
"Reckon some girls were on the coach too and whoever robbed it took 'em. Girls are probably in Mexico being whored out in some cantina, that's worse than being dead", said Jasper with disgust.
"This really fucking sucks", said Clay.
"Yep. Reckon we ought to write a letter to Mr. Jones' boss, let him know. Too bad we can't bury him proper", said Nathan as he watched the buzzards resume their work.
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Post by Tim on Mar 30, 2020 12:12:58 GMT -5
Better get the CSI crew here.
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Post by ladyfiaran22 on Apr 1, 2020 9:13:51 GMT -5
Chapter 9
Clay still felt depressed as he tuned his guitar and got ready for that night's show. The sight of Jones' half-eaten body being devoured by buzzards still nauseated him and the probable fate of the girls made him ill. I should've stayed home, that's worse than a Freddy Krueger movie, he thought with a shudder.
Pilar sat next to him and watched as he tuned the guitar and played a few chords. She was vaguely annoyed at how depressed he'd been, wondering what compelled him to see the dead man. That is so disgusting, idiot, she thought dismissively.
"You sure you know the songs?", he asked calmly, a steady look in his blue eyes.
She nodded, remembering the songs they'd worked on earlier. After getting back from the coach, Clay had gone back to the saloon and picked up his guitar, wanting to blot out the ugly sight. After a while, the ugly vision slowly subsided as he got lost in the music and his fingers had a life of their own as he strummed the guitar.
Pilar rolled her eyes when he smiled shyly at her, more interested in seeing Nathan. Pat set down a shot of Scotch for Nathan and wine for Dante and tequila for them, knowing they were going onstage in a bit. Nathan slapped a coin down on the bar as he drank the Scotch, feeling the whisky warm his insides. He still could see Jones's body being devoured by the ugly black buzzards, the stench enough to suffocate someone.
That was as bad when we found Robert, he thought. Nathan could still remember finding his brother's body when they had shot the members of the outlaw gang responsible. Robert had been shot numerous times and to add insult to injury, he had been shot in the back of the head to guarantee death.
We are going to find the rest of those bastards and whoever killed Jones, he vowed as Pat served another drink.
The Golden Rose was almost full as Clay and Pilar got onstage. He sat down on his stool and checked the tunings as Pilar cleared her throat and he played a few chords. Clay nodded at her as he played the opening notes of We Really Shouldn't Be Doing This by George Strait, the lively song causing everyone to dance and clap along as Clay played the rhythm on guitar:
We really shouldn't be doing this
And we both know why
Just being close enough to think like this
Enough to make you need to lie
This kinda talk will lead us to somewhere
Were gettin way too close to going there
The farther off the better to resist
We really shouldn't be doin this
Only an isolated incident
But the acquaintance left me stunned
The first attraction was the hardest hit
I thought I'd ever overcome
This kinda situation has to pass
This chance encounter has to be the last
To take it further we would be remiss
We really shouldn't be doin this
Wed each be hurting somebody else
If we don't say our good-byes real fast
Wont even think about a farewell kiss
We really shouldn't be doin this
Well....
He then played Mama said by Metallica. The audience was hushed as she sang the acoustic ballad, many of the men reminded of their own mothers they had left behind somewhere else:
Mama, she has taught me well
Told me when I's young
Son, your life's an open book
Don't close it 'fore it's done
The brightest flame burns quickest
That's what I heard her say
A son's heart's owed to mother
But I must find my way
Let my heart go
Let your son grow
Mama, let my heart go
Or let this heart be still
"Rebel", my new last name
Wild blood in my veins
Apron strings around my neck
The mark that still remains
left home at an early age
Of what I heard was wrong
I never asked forgiveness
But what is said is done
Let my heart go
Let your son grow
Mama, let my heart go
Or let this heart be still
Never I ask of you
But never I gave
But you gave me your emptiness
I now take to my grave
Never I ask of you
But never I gave
But you gave me your emptiness
I now take to my grave
So let this heart be still
Mama, now I'm coming home
I'm not all you wished of me
But a mother's love for her son
Unspoken, help me be
Oh Yeah I took your love for granted
And all the things you said to me
I need your arms to welcome me
But a cold stone's all I see
Let my heart go
Let your son grow
Mama, let my heart go
Or let this heart be still
Let my heart go
Mama, let my heart go
You never let my heart go
So let this heart be still
Never I ask of you
But never I gave
But you gave me your emptiness
I now take to my grave
Never I ask of you
But never I gave
But you gave me your emptiness
I now take to my grave
So let this heart be still
The set ended an hour later as the crowd gave them a standing ovation. Clay smiled shyly as a blush formed on his cheeks and crept up his neck as Pilar giggled knowingly. They were ushered to the bar as Cactus Jack beamed with pride and shook his hand, stuffing a gold piece in the front pocket of his shirt. "Boy, my business has doubled since you started playing here, consider this a raise. Pilar, great job as well. If you want, you can get a new dress from the mercantile", he said.
"Gracias, Daddy", she said.
"Thank you, sir", said Clay as the bartender got him a beer. The beer was heavy and thick like liquid bread in a dirty glass and was flat but he didn't care, still feeling the rush from performing.
"Pat, the wine is running low. Please put in an order from El Paso", said Dante, handing the bartender several gold pieces.
"Sure thing, Deputy Petrucci", he said as he pocketed the coins.
Clay was drinking his beer and Nathan drinking his Scotch when the double doors of the saloon swung open. Clay turned when he heard the sound and his heart leapt into his throat when he recognized Clem Jennings from the picture in the book. He was even more upset when Nathan put down his drink and clapped the other man on the back with a smile.
"Clem, you old dog. What brings you here and I'll get you a drink", said Nathan as Pat poured two whiskeys.
Jennings accepted the drink as they knocked back the shots. "I'm fine, Nathan. My deputy's in charge of Frescas Aires, reckon I oughtta stop on by", he chuckled, his words spoken with the deep Southern drawl of his native Georgia.
Dante said nothing as he drank his wine, not liking Jennings at all and having a distrust of the Georgian. He saw Clay looking at Jennings oddly and made a note, wanting to speak with him.
Clay barely noticed Pilar had gone as he concentrated on Nathan and Jennings. The two men were laughing at some joke and drinking Scotch, acting like the best of buddies. He noticed Dante giving them a look and wondered if Dante had the same idea.
Dante finished his wine and handed the glass back to Pat, getting off his stool as he motioned for Clay to follow him. Clay drained his beer and followed the little deputy outside. It was the darkest night he'd ever seen with no electricity, the only light coming from the moon and stars above and the lantern outside the saloon, a flickering candle inside the glass.
Dante reached into his pocket and took out a hand-rolled cigarette and a matchbook, lighting the cigarette as he stepped on the dead match with his boot. "Signore Butler, I saw you looking at Nathan and Jennings, I am glad someone else has their suspicions", he chuckled, inhaling the pungent tobacco smoke and then exhaling.
"Good call, dude. Who's this Jennings guy?", he asked.
Dante took another drag off his cigarette. "Jennings has the star which says he's a sheriff, but I do not like him. He came from Georgia during the war, saying he was discharged from service. But the army does not discharge soldiers during the war, I heard rumors he deserted his unit. I did not serve in the war, it was too far from here. I would be careful around him", warned Dante
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Post by Tim on Apr 1, 2020 11:26:16 GMT -5
Pilar is rather an odd name.
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Post by ladyfiaran22 on Apr 1, 2020 11:38:18 GMT -5
Pilar is rather an odd name. It’s a Spanish girls name, it’s a reference to the Virgin Mary seated on a pillar seen by St. James, Spain’s patron saint. Her mother was Mexican.
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Post by Tim on Apr 1, 2020 18:33:14 GMT -5
John Wayne's last wife was named that.
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Post by ladyfiaran22 on Apr 3, 2020 8:06:32 GMT -5
Chapter 10
Dante breathed a sigh of relief when Jennings finally left, not wanting to be around the man any more than necessary. The Georgian had a dark air around him concealed by his smile, an occasional flitting across his eyes whenever they locked gazes. I don't like him at all and Nathan thinks he is wonderful. Nathan is a smart man, but I hope he can see through Jennings, he thought.
The customers began to leave as the girls cleared up the main room. Nathan and Dante walked across the street to the jail and let themselves in, locking the door behind them. It was dark and empty inside as there hadn't been any drunks being rowdy enough to be incarcerated. Their living quarters were above the jail and consisted of two bedrooms and a closet, both rooms containing a bed and a wardrobe, the spartan lodgings part of their salary.
Dante entered his room after seeing goodnight to Nathan. He closed his door as he changed into his nightshirt and got under the covers, the thin mattress on the tarnished brass stand creaking under his slight weight. The room was a drab little place, solid stone floors and stolid adobe that at least kept out the worst heat and wind. The bed sat on a tarnished bedstead and the mattress was stuffed with horsehair, a few hairs escaping from the patched surface. The only other furniture was an ancient wooden wardrobe and a nightstand with an oil lamp and a cracked porcelain pitcher with tepid water.
Dante rolled over and shut his eyes, trying to get some sleep. But all he could see was Jones' body being devoured by buzzards, the bloody remains and the stench. While he had seen some awful things, this surely had to be amongst the worse, right up there with his parents' bodies.
Maledizione, that was horrible. And I don't know what happened to those poor women. Madre Dio, but we have to find the culprit soon, he mused as he fell into a fitful sleep.
Meanwhile, Clay was in his room upstairs above the bar trying to sleep. The window had no draped and so the moonlight shone in the room as bright as a lamp, the window looking down onto the street. He could hear a bed squeak in the room next door and the floorboards groan as someone walked by, neither the light or the sounds letting him sleep.
Damn it, why won't people shut up here?, he thought sourly.
With a growl of frustration, Clay tossed back the blanket and got out of bed. He almost tripped on a loose floorboard as he cursed under his breath, trying to find something to put over the window. In the corner he found an old black blanket that smelled strongly of lye detergent as he tried to cover up the window. Clay stuck a few pins in the blanket to keep it up, the dark sheet now blocking out the lights.
Clay was about to go back to bed when he heard a crashing sound coming from downstairs. With a muttered curse, he threw back the covers and got out of bed, carefully opening the door to peer outside. It was much darker than in his room, no moonlight or stars to illuminate anything. A flash of something pale caught his eye, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He took a deep breath and carefully made his way downstairs, using the rail to support himself on the stairs.
There was an odd clattering sound and something jingled like coins coming from the kitchen. The sound grew louder as he approached the kitchen, glad he had hidden one of his revolvers in the waistband of his jeans. Clay rested his hand on the stock of the gun as his finger curled on the trigger, his heart thumping furiously like a drum.
Whoever or whatever was in the kitchen must have heard him approach because there was a loud clang like someone dropping a metal plate and the crunching sound became faster and then stopped. Clay entered the kitchen and could barely make out a tin container like a cookie tin on the floor, scattered grains of rice crunching under his feet. He found a box of matches and a lantern on the table and lit it, blowing out the match and stepping on it with his boot. The drawers and cabinets were open and several cans and bags were scattered about, a bag of rice opened as a few of the grains crunched under his boots. The tin was on its side with the cover several feet away, a small purple cloth bag opened wide with a few coins scattered about. The door leading outside was open as though someone had made a hasty exit, a slight breeze coming inside the kitchen.
"What in the hell is going on?", asked Cactus Jack, holding up a pistol as he saw the mess in the kitchen.
"I heard a noise and I came down, I think someone robbed you and they fled", said Clay.
Cactus Jack picked up the bag and cursed when he saw the bag was empty. "Fuck, that was the money from tonight. And I gotta tell Molly to clean up this mess. Butler, too bad you couldn't shoot the son-of-a-bitch. Go back to sleep, I don't want Pilar to wake up", he said.
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Post by ladyfiaran22 on Apr 6, 2020 8:32:42 GMT -5
Chapter 11
The next week went by in a slow, leisurely pace as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. But Clay couldn't help the feeling that something bad was up, the seeming calm feeling like the calm before a storm. Pilar was suddenly cold to him as though she didn't want him around, only talking to him when they were rehearsing songs.
This seriously sucks, I want to know what the hell I'm doing here. There's no clues on who did this and they didn't have fingerprints back then either. But that Jennings dude seriously creeps me out, I guess Dante's got the same idea, he mused.
Clay went downstairs to find Pilar, taking the guitar with him. He was startled to see the girls clustered around Dante as he sang in Italian, his beautiful tenor as good as an opera singer's. Damn, Dustin never sang anywhere as good, he chuckled to himself.
The group clapped when he finished as he took a bow. "Dude, I had no idea you sang that good, you ought to go pro", he teased.
"Grazie, Signore Butler. That was by Verdi, have you heard of him? My father used to sing as well", he said.
"Giuseppe Verdi? Yeah, I heard of him. I'm not into opera, though", Clay replied.
Clay tried not to laugh when he remembered Dustin's off-key caterwauling when he tried to sing along to his Tupac CD's. The ridiculous sight of a short, balding white guy singing along to the notorious rapper made him laugh and everyone had teased him mercilessly for weeks.
"What is so funny, Signore Butler?", asked Dante.
Clay blushed. "I was thinking about a friend of mine who sang really bad and how everyone would tease him", he replied.
"Ho vedere, Signore Butler", he laughed.
"Where is Pilar?", asked Clay, changing the subject.
"She went to the store, she'll be back soon, Mr. Butler", said Pat as he wiped a mug and put it back on the shelf.
Clay nodded as he sat down and tuned the guitar, waiting for her to come back so they could rehearse. Just then, Nathan entered along with several cowboys who carried two prone bodies over to a table. Dante immediately came over as everyone gathered around.
"There was another stagecoach robbery, Dante. These two are still alive but we found a trunk of women's clothes and the driver and horses were missing. Get the Doc over here", ordered Nathan as Dante rushed out the door.
The two men appeared to be in their late twenties to early thirties, both dressed in suits and hats. The one on the left was white with short light brown hair and pale blue eyes that flickered open as he breathed in harsh gasps. The other man was Asian, his black hair plastered to his clammy skin as he breathed with a rattling sound.
Dante arrived with Doc Owen as they came over to the table. The doctor, a portly middle-aged man with white hair and glasses, carefully examined the men as he undressed them, the women having been shooed away. The white man had been shot in the upper thigh but the bullet hadn't landed in an artery or vein, resting harmlessly in the tissue. The Asian mad had been shot in both legs and in the arm, screwing his face tightly and gasping when Doc Owen gingerly moved his arm.
"Get them to my office so I can remove the bullets, none of them hit a major vein or artery, Thank God", he muttered.
"Shit. And there were probably women on the coach too, I wouldn't wish that on anyone", muttered Nathan.
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Post by Tim on Apr 6, 2020 12:35:00 GMT -5
Hope they can get the bullets out. It was hit and miss back then.
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Post by ladyfiaran22 on Apr 8, 2020 9:54:00 GMT -5
Chapter 12
So Doc, how's the fellas doing?", asked Nathan later that night.
Doc sighed as he drank his whiskey. "I need a drink. I got the bullets outta them with no problem, but the Asian fella almost passed out when I took the bullet from his arm, it was right near the bone but not in an artery or vein. Maggie's watching them, they might come on by later for supper if they feel better", he replied.
"Did you learn anything from them?", asked Nathan.
"The white man's name is Brady Donnelly, he's an Irishman from New Orleans by way of County Galway and the other fella is Hideki Matsuzaka from Japan. Both of 'em are actors heading to El Paso for an engagement at the Pantera Negra theater. Donnelly says Matsuzaka was traveling with his wife and daughter and his sister, his wife and sister are also actors with the play. He says the robbers took off with the women and the horses and the coach", said Doc.
"Shit. I want to kill those bastards, poor gals. And I do not want to know what they are gonna do the little gal, fuckin' bastards", he muttered.
"Come va, Doctore Owen?", asked Dante.
"The patient's are back at the office, they might come by later for supper. They're fine now that I removed the bullets, there was only a bit of bleeding. Unfortunately, there were three women and a little girl with them, the Asian fella's wife and sister and daughter were taken by the robbers", he said.
Dante swore under his breath. "Madre Dio, those poor women. Nathan, was there anything unusual at the scene?", he asked.
"The horses and driver were missing, reckon the driver was taken hostage and they stole the horses. Maybe the fellas can tell us more when they get here, reckon it might be the same bunch behind the last robbery, looked similar to the last one", said Nathan.
Clay heard the conversation as he checked the tunings of his guitar. He was horrified at what he'd heard, but he was also curious. "Nathan, I hope this isn't a dumb question, but were there any footprints from the horses or marks from the wheels? That would be a clue to where they were going", he said.
Nathan gave him a thoughtful look. "The horses' tracks came from the west and were clumped together near some bushes by the south, reckon that's where they were hiding. And tracks were also headed south towards Santa Elena Canyon, nobody crazy enough to go there", he said.
"What's in the canyon?", he asked.
"It is almost straight down and to get there you must go through the desert. Not even the Indians went there, they said it was cursed", said Dante with a shudder.
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Post by Tim on Apr 8, 2020 11:40:29 GMT -5
Hope they get those folks back soon.
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Post by ladyfiaran22 on Apr 9, 2020 8:55:14 GMT -5
Chapter 13
"I want to go with you fellas and get those bastards", said Brady Donnelly, his Irish-accented voice full of anger.
"Signore Donnelly, they sound like very dangerous people and they have your women. And you are still recovering", said Dante calmly.
"Mr. Petrucci, Hideki is in a real bad stage of shock. His wife Yumiko and their daughter Sakura are with those bastads and his sister Michiro is with 'em too. I want to kill those bastards before they do anything to the women", said Brady, anguish in his voice.
"Mr. Donnelly, we will try to get the women back, but it won't be easy. If they are hiding out in Santa Elena Canyon, that's a hard place to get into and they're dangerous men", said Nathan.
Brady sighed as he ran a hand through his curly brown hair. "Sorry about that, gentlemen. But I am sweet on Michiru and I was going to ask Hideki's permission to court her once we reached El Paso. And I am afraid for wee Sakura, she is my goddaughter and Hideki is worried sick, he won't talk and he's numb like a corpse", he said.
"We will try to find them, Mr. Donnelly, but I"m not making any promises", said Nathan.
"I'll go with you guys, I'll bring my guns and you guys are gonna need back up", said Clay.
"Good. Tell Jack we are leaving tonight", said Nathan.
"Where is Pilar, she is supposed to be rehearsing with you?", asked Dante.
"She said she had to pick up something at the store but she's taking a while", said Clay, puzzled.
He got tired of waiting and went down the block to the town's general store. The store was the second-biggest building in town after the saloon, the interior crowded with all sorts of sundry merchandise. Shelves of goods were arranged haphazardly without regard to logic and the older things were covered in a thick layer of dust, the stale odor of tobacco juice lingering in the air.
"Howdy, how can I help you?", asked the elderly clerk behind the counter.
"Have you seen Pilar Hollins in here?", he asked.
The clerk looked puzzled as he scratched his bald head. "Miss Hollins didn't come in here today, Mr. Butler", he said.
Clay felt his heart sink. Oh shit, did the robbers get her too? I gotta tell Nathan and Dante, he thought frantically as he bolted out the door.
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Post by Tim on Apr 9, 2020 11:35:42 GMT -5
Oh no, I hope Pilar's okay.
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Post by ladyfiaran22 on May 4, 2020 9:02:47 GMT -5
Chapter 14
"Damn it, I hope we get those bastards, I don't want to know what they are going to do with the women", muttered Nathan as he mounted his black stallion.
Dante, Clay, and Brady nodded. It was late afternoon as they prepared to ride out to Santa Elena Canyon, the sun just beginning to set. Clay and Brady had been deputized by Nathan that morning and wore brass stars on their shirts that said Deputy, both men heavily armed with guns in leather holsters buckled around their waists. Each man carried a canteen of water, dried meat and fruit and extra ammunition wrapped in a blanket bundled up in their saddlebags, Nathan carrying an extra gun and matches in his.
They quickly left behind Agua Caliente as the temperatures began to drop, dark shadows forming around the cacti and bushes. The broken-down coach still was there and it loomed menacingly like a mythical beast from some ancient story, nothing left of poor Marvin Jones except for some tattered clothes and a few scattered bones. They quickly rode away as Brady showed them where they coach had been hijacked, the ruts from the wheels still visible. Nathan could clearly see that the tracks were heaviest where the wagon had stopped, the wagon tracks and horses' hooves going towards the canyon.
"Reckon you were right, Clay. Just hope the horses don't fall into the canyon", he said sardonically.
The horses followed the tracks of the wagon and the horses' hooves farther south towards the canyon in the Sierra Ponce Mountains. It was quickly darkening now as the sky was purplish-black and the stars came out, the moon almost a perfect half like a cheese sliced right down the middle. The moon and stars provided just enough light that they could see but not so much they could be easily identified. The tracks in the sand were a bit faint under the moonlight but they could be seen as they went steadily towards the canyon. The mountains of the Sierra Ponce rose abruptly from the plain like the angular brushstrokes of an El Greco painting. Silhouetted against the darkening sky, the peaks of the Sierra Ponce resembled a gigantic black stone castle, the abode of some dangerous monster out of a horror story.
"Be careful, the canyon is hard to see", warned Dante.
The horses whinnied softly and wouldn't go further, sensing the edge of the canyon and not wanting to fall over. Nathan motioned for them to dismount as the horses were still warily looking down at the edge of the canyon. "We have to go on foot, the horses won't be able to make it down", said Nathan, eying the narrow ledge that wound downwards to the canyon floor.
Clay took a deep breath as he was sorry to leave the horses behind, hoping they didn't run off or were stolen. A narrow ledge about two feet wide led down towards the canyon floor, a thin ribbon of water at the very bottom flowing underground towards the Rio Grande. They slowly and carefully inched downwards, their backs to the wall as they moved sideways downward, their boots crunching on the tiny pebbles of the ledge and their hands feeling the canyon wall. It got darker the farther down they went until the sky was only a few inches wide, the moon and stars barely showing any light. Below them was the darkness of a tomb, only the tiny ripples of light in the river piercing the darkness.
After more than an hour of slowly going downwards along the canyon wall, they reached the canyon floor. It was very dark down here as almost no light from the moon and stars penetrated the canyon floor, the only sound the river's waters lapping gently at the rocks along the banks.
"Look, there's hoofprints", said Brody as he pointed to the soft ground near the banks.
Nathan peered down and studied the tracks. "Those are mule tracks and they're heavy, reckon the mules were loaded down with something", he said.
"And they are going that way", said Dante as they followed the prints towards the canyon wall.
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