Crossed Trails

  Crossed Trails

  Bob Blink

  Chapter 1

  Summer, 1878

  Dakota Territories

  A storm was brewing; Silas Miller could smell it. He scanned the darkening horizon from the back of his slowly moving horse, a recent acquisition after his long-time mount had broken its leg in a prairie dog hole just over a week ago. He and Heck had been engaged in settling a bet by seeing who could beat the other across one of the multitude of small valleys in this part of the state. He and the horse had yet to come to complete agreement as to who was boss, and already Silas greatly regretted the moment of foolishness that had cost him the best mount he'd ever had. His new mount was dark brown with several small patches of white, and had already proven himself slower than Silas liked. If there was trouble, he wanted to be able to get out of the area quickly.

  The older of the pair of riders, Silas had brown hair that was showing signs of silver. He was thicker and shorter than his partner, and considerably more serious and proper about things. Silas was half white and half Indian. His father had been a mountain man, so naturally Silas had some of the same inclinations. His mother had died after being gored by a downed buffalo that wasn't quite as dead as everyone had thought. For years after that, it had been just him and his father, until one day a particularly annoyed bear had charged into the man's rifle fire and killed him. More than ten years passed before Silas had linked up with Heck.

  "Gonna rain," he finally growled over toward his partner.

  "'Course it is," Heck Parsons answered back, the first words he'd spoken in over two hours. After more than eight years traveling together, most of their days spent in the wilderness, there really wasn't much they hadn't already talked over a couple of dozen times. These days Heck was more inclined to enjoy the quiet silence, content that his partner and best friend was close at hand. Heck was taller and thinner than Silas, with shoulder length hair that was thick and blond, and a more casual attitude about almost everything. Intensely curious about the world, he was willing to bend rules when it suited his needs. Four years Silas' junior, he was still more of the leader of the pair, most of the time, although Silas had a means of getting his way when he wished.

  Heck had first come West when he was seventeen. Somewhere back East he assumed he still had family. There had been a brother, a half brother, and a half sister when he'd left without informing anyone of his intentions. He doubted he'd know any of them should they meet one day, and he didn't really care. His father had died when he was fifteen, and the man his mother had chosen to replace him was not anything like the father Heck had loved. Heck quickly came to hate the man, a feeling the other apparently felt toward Heck as well. Heck also hadn't taken to his new siblings. While his younger brother was the only one he had any feelings for, the lad had been only eight, so who knew what he'd grown into in the presence of the domineering brute of a father he'd been saddled with. Heck was more than satisfied with the only family he now recognized, his partner of many years.

  Sensing Silas was in a chatty mood, and guessing some decision might be required of him, Hack spurred his horse and directed the tired animal in his partner's direction. The horse, a large, mostly black, and sometimes ornery stallion, sauntered slowly in the indicated direction, dragging their pack mule along with him.

  "All ya gotta do is look at them clouds," Heck said once he'd come alongside, indicating a thunderhead off to their left. The high dark clouds were looking more ominous by the minute, and clearly were drifting across their direction of travel.

  "Ya think we should look for some place to hole up until it passes?' Silas asked.

  "Where?" Heck asked, looking at the landscape around them.

  His question was well taken. Steep rocky cliffs of dark rock blocked their way on the right, and the mostly grassy incline they were headed down extended at least five miles and offered little in the way of protection. The few trees that grew were smallish and lacked the protection that they could have expected from the larger groves of trees that they'd left behind earlier in the day.

  "Gotta be something," Silas mumbled, digging into his worn saddlebags and digging out a worn brass telescope he'd commandeered from a dying Union officer a few years ago. It hadn't bothered him that he was the reason the other was dying, and Silas had appropriated the man's sidearm as well. He still wore the '51 Navy with its shortened five inch barrel on his side in the cracked and scuffed military style holster. In the years since he'd acquired it, he had managed to crack off about a quarter of the wooden grip on one side, the wood now rubbed smooth with a coarse rock to prevent splinters and cuts from the broken edge under recoil. He planned to replace the grip if he had the chance, but such opportunities were rare. It was easier to get a new gun than parts.

  Raising the telescope, he scanned their route ahead. He looked toward the mountain, hoping to find an inlet or a large overhang that would block the downpour that was fast approaching. Unfortunately the cliffs were close to vertical in this area, and unless the raindrops came down at a considerable angle, and then from the right, there would be no protection from that area.

  "You're wasting your time," Heck said. "We're gonna get wet, and there's nothing to be done about it." He had turned around and was digging his slicker from around the roll of blankets that made up his sleeping gear. Better that he was somewhat dry and the blankets got wet, he reasoned.

  Silas knew that Heck was right, but sheer orneriness kept his eye to the tube as they moved slowly forward. "What's that?" he asked aloud a few minutes later. His sweep had picked up a bright flash of light from one of the few patches of brightness on the ground ahead where the clouds hadn't completely blocked off the sun.

  "You see something?" Heck asked, trying to spot whatever his partner was seeing, but to no avail. His eyes were good, but the spot of light that had provided the reflection had moved on.

  "Something bright," Silas said. "Just for a moment before the light changed."

  "Gun barrel?" Heck asked. He always assumed there might be trouble, and metallic glints out here usually meant a weapon, either a gun or spear. In addition to the potential bandits, the Lakota Tribes had no reason to be pleased with more white men violating their lands. Instinctively, his hand reached back and found the butt of the big Colt Dragoon on his hip. He checked to make certain he could extract it smoothly should it become necessary, then reached down and checked the access to the '73 lever-action Winchester in its scabbard. The revolver was a massive piece and was often cumbersome to carry around, but it fired a .44 caliber ball that had some real put down power, unlike the puny little .36 caliber balls that Silas fired through that stubby-barreled piece he'd taken off that interfering Army officer.

  "Too big," Silas said, settling back in the saddle. Standing in the stirrups hadn't changed his angle enough to allow him to recover the momentary flash he'd seen. "Can't think of anything out here that would cause a reflection anywhere near that that large. Wanna go look?"

  "Storm'll be on us pretty damn quick. Maybe that's better left until afterwards," Heck suggested.

  Silas looked uncertainly in the direction he'd seen the light. "Probably be gone then. I doubt we'll even be able to guess the direction."

  Heck knew his partner. For some damn reason Silas wanted to have a look now, the fact they'd get drenched in the process apparently not mattering to him. Sometimes one had to make stupid sacrifices for those who'd covered your back more times than could be counted.

  "Better have a look now then," Heck said.

  "Reckon so," Silas agreed, sounding as if it never occurred to him that Heck was being sarcastic. He kneed his horse lightly to indicate he wanted it to move faster, and for some reason the touchy animal responded. Maybe he thought they were going somewhe
re that would keep them out of the storm. Heck had no doubts that the animal was aware of the approaching downpour.

  Heck let Silas take the lead, then spurred his own horse into motion, pulling the reluctant mule after them. Silas had seen the flash, and he'd have a better idea of what heading to take than Heck would. Even so, Heck paid close attention. Silas might be watching for something that could cause the flash, but Heck was more interested in who and how many might be in the area that might prove a problem. Silently, he slipped the Winchester out of his scabbard, chambering one of the .44-40 rounds, and lowering the hammer to half cock. He set the rifle crosswise in his lap, one hand wrapped around the fore stock and the other hand with his fingers through the large loop of the lever and his thumb positioned to quickly cock the hammer should the need arise. He did this by feel from long years of familiarity, while his eyes scanned the trail ahead. Heck was reassured to see that despite the intensity of his interest on the elusive reflection, or perhaps because of its oddity, Silas had also armed himself. He had pulled out the heavy Sharps, with its large .45-90 cartridge that carried considerably more authority than the smaller cartridges in the high-capacity lever action that Heck used. While Heck was by far the faster and better shot, he'd seen Silas bring down game at an impressive range with the single shot cannon.

  They rode that way for almost a mile. Far enough that Heck was certain they had to have passed whatever had caused the flash of light. In a way that worried him. It suggested that the source had moved. That in turn hinted that the cause was human and, out here, at least half of the time that meant trouble. The fact they were headed away from the mining town of Deadwood wasn't helpful either. Heading toward the place, they could be hopeful miners or gamblers intent on trying their luck in the swelling gold rush town. Headed away and they could be leaving with pouches filled with gold dust, or even better small nuggets of the stuff. They hadn't been so lucky during their short stay in the lawless and dangerous settlement, but anyone watching couldn't know that, and many would shoot and check afterwards.

  "I see something," Silas muttered from his position in the lead.

  Heck shifted his attention toward the spot ahead where Silas was focused. His view was partially blocked by his partner and his horse, so anxious to put the mystery to rest he asked, "What is it?"

  "Don't rightly know," Silas said. "Never seen anything like it before."

  Moments later Heck could see what his friend meant. He hadn't seen anything like it before either.

  "How would anyone get something like that out here?" Heck asked. "There's no place for anyone to hitch up a team, and with all the metal in that thing it has to be damn heavy."

  "It's broken," Silas said, causing Heck to examine the object more critically.

  He saw that his companion was right. The metallic object was of considerable size. Looking somewhat like a three dimensional oval, stretched at both ends and heavily banded with sections that encircled the whole of the object that looked to be far thicker and stronger than others sections, it sat smashed into the earth tilted at roughly a thirty degree nose-down angle. Multiple penetrations were apparent in the side of the thing, as were strange projections that stood out at various points along the upper surface. That being said, there was nothing that resembled a window anywhere, so if anyone or anything was inside, they didn't have a means of seeing out. But what was also apparent upon closer examination was that it hadn't buried itself as deeply in the earth as first seemed to be the case. The section along the bottom that at first appeared hidden by the ground had been cleanly sheared away somehow. The churned up ground showed that the object had come to rest violently, but whatever had happened to the missing section, it was nowhere to be seen.

  "I think we can get inside," Silas said. "See that small gulley. It runs under the thing and there is clearly a space. Looks large enough to crawl under whatever that thing is."

  "I'm not so sure that would be the wisest move," Heck replied, imagining all kinds of ways they might become trapped. There was something that looked like it might be a door of sorts on the side above the main band that encircled the thing. It was probably locked, and given that the object was made of metal he couldn't see how they would punch their way out if it rolled or settled once they got inside. Add to that, with no windows, it was going to be dark inside. They had nothing handy to make torches, and as the first of the heavy drops started to fall, he knew they wouldn't be finding much that would burn.

  "Bet it would be dry," Silas encouraged, as he looked toward the sky. A heavy rumble of thunder, less than two miles away by the short delay from the flash of lightning, ominously warned of what was almost upon them.

  "What about the horses?" Heck asked, hoping that would dissuade his friend. Usually the eager one, this didn't strike him as the best time to be exploring something as foreign as this object.

  Silas nodded and glanced around. In the last half mile the terrain had changed significantly. They were nearly halfway down the steep incline that led to the valley below, but the steep cliffs had closed in on them and now towered nearly overhead. The base of the nearest of the dark stone towers was less than thirty yards away. There were a few trees clustered near the base.

  "We can tie 'em over there," he pointed toward the closest of the trees. "That'll give 'em some shelter from the wind and wet."

  It was the best they were going to be able to do. Heck applied pressure with his knee causing his horse to reluctantly start moving in the desired direction. Heck felt the wind drop off some, but the drops were coming almost straight down and the steep cliffs weren't going to offer much protection. If anyone had asked, Heck would have been quick to explain he wasn't real keen on being this close to the base of these rocky precipices. He had to maneuver around several very large mounds of rock, that clearly had once been part of the tower that blocked almost half of the sky. As they'd made their way down the incline the past morning, he'd seen several places where massive rock falls had buried sections of the hillside, and could envision such an occurrence while they were huddled here trying to stay dry. He wondered if water could precipitate such an event.

  "This will have to do," Silas said as they reached the only trees of any size anywhere nearby. It was marginally drier than where they'd just been, but the full fury of the storm had yet to hit.

  They stripped the saddles and gear off the animals, tying them securely to low hanging branches, giving them enough rope so they could move around to find a spot they liked best. Heck helped Silas spread the large waterproof tarp over their gear and weigh it down with some of the smaller rocks that had come down from above some long time ago. Then, instead of finding a spot that offered some protection, Silas grabbed his Sharps and said, "Let's go see."

  Clearly there was not going to be any talking Silas out of this, and leaving his partner to risk whatever dangers were to be found alone just wasn't the way they did things, so Heck sighed and grabbed his own rifle, then hurried to catch up. Silas was already almost halfway to the strange object that had so captured his interest. Ten steps away from the pitiful camp, Heck realized it was already coming down heavily and the cliffs were offering more protection than he'd expected.

  Standing beside the strange object, Heck realized it was even larger than he'd thought. Maybe seventy-five feet long and half that wide, he could see that it had struck damn hard. They could see pipes and wires and oddly shaped pieces of gear smashed or dangling out of the bottom where the missing section had been cut away. Silas had elected to walk around the outside of the thing, while Heck, now getting intrigued, had clambered down into the small gulley that snaked under the object, attempting to get a view up inside. There was more room underneath than he'd expected, and Silas had been right. He could see how he might just be able to climb into the interior. There were two things that surprised him. First, it wasn't dark inside. Something was producing a fair amount of light, and there was a lot of space inside. He wasn't so sure that the gulley that provided access was
n't going to be filling with rushing water soon, however, and that might leave them trapped inside until the storm abated.

  "Can you get in?" Silas asked, having completed his circuit around the thing. "This is the only place that might work."

  Heck handed the rifle back to Silas.

  "I'll have a go at it," he said, and checking to be certain the Colt was snug in his holster, he twisted around as he reached underneath for something to give him purchase so he could pull himself up. A fair amount of cursing and muttering followed, but slowly Heck disappeared from view. After a bit he hollered back to his partner.

  "Hand me the rifles, then come on in. There's lots of room once you get past the narrow rip in the side of this damn thing."

  Silas checked the safety, then handed Heck's Winchester butt first into the darkened space, feeling his friend grab it and pull it away. His own Sharps followed shortly afterwards. Silas lay down on his back, ignoring the fact the ground was now more than a little wet and his shirt was almost immediately soaked, and slid underneath, spotting Heck waiting to give him a hand up.

  "I'll be damned," Silas said once he was inside. It wasn't nearly as bright as full daylight, but there was no problem seeing in here. Some kind of hidden lights glowed along the overhead ceiling, and a multitude of small lights of all colors winked at them from the walls and odd-looking boxes scattered around the interior. "I ain't never seen any lamps like these," he said. "I wonder what makes them work. They ain't oil lamps."

  Heck handed Silas his Sharps, and then drew his Colt, keeping the Winchester in his left hand. It was close quarters in here and the rifle wasn't the best choice if they encountered trouble. Silas followed suit, and soon had the smaller Navy revolver ready for action in his own hand. A quick glance showed he hadn't lost any of the critical percussion caps off the cylinder nipples.

  "Which way?" Silas asked.

  "There," Heck pointed. "It looks like that is the way it came down, so it's probably the front. Also looks to be more light in that direction."