Ghost Canyon Anthony M. Strong West Street Publishing This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to events or places, or real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Copyright © 2021 by Anthony M. Strong All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Cover art and interior design by Bad Dog Media, LLC. For Izzie and Hayden (who was the inspiration for Tieg). Contents Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Epilogue Ready for another John Decker Adventure? Acknowledgments Also by Anthony M. Strong Prologue August 1874—Southern Nevada The two men and the mule moved through the darkness; their way illuminated only by the glow of the full moon that hung low in a cloudless sky. Karuk went first, leading his companion along the mountain trail with confidence despite the younger man’s unease. “Are you sure you know where you’re going,” Travis Biggs asked, peering nervously towards the rocky landscape that spread out on each side of them, rising steeply as they went higher. They had left the mining town far behind and could no longer hear the faint tinkle of the piano or the raucous laughter coming from the bordello that sat on the dusty main street. “Why couldn’t we have come out here in daylight?” “You know why. We can’t be seen.” Karuk glanced back, the moonlight illuminating his finely sculpted features. A subtle blend of Native American and Old World that highlighted his position as an outcast in both cultures thanks to the union between a white man and his Ojibwe mother. “Do you want to do this, or not?” “It’s that or share the gold, and there’s not enough in that vein for everyone.” “Then shut up and stop complaining. We’re almost there,” Karuk said, then lapsed into silence. They continued on for another fifteen minutes until the trail ended at a rocky plateau dotted with creosote bushes, sagebrush, and Joshua trees. Beyond this the terrain rose even further but was completely impassable. Karuk led them to a spot marked only by a pile of gathered rocks. He removed them one by one, casting them aside while Travis watched, one hand holding the mule’s reins. “Hand me the shovel,” Karuk said once he had exposed the ground underneath the rock pile. Travis led the mule to a bush and tied the reins around a sturdy branch, then removed a shovel from the packsaddle and handed it to his companion. Karuk took it and began to dig, removing the top layer of sand and dirt. He hadn’t dug far when the white dome of a skull revealed itself, wiry tufts of hair still attached in places. “Is that what we’re looking for?” Travis asked, suppressing a shiver of revulsion. “Not the skull,” Karuk said, moving more dirt aside with the shovel’s blade. There were more bones now. Vertebrae and a rib cage. Arm bones, including the humerus and radius. Moving lower, Karuk uncovered the pelvis and leg bones. He gently lifted a femur and held it out to Travis. “Here, take this,” he said. Travis accepted the bone and slipped it into a leather bag hanging from the mule’s pack. Karuk removed several more bones, passing them to Travis before taking the shovel and pushing dirt back over the now desecrated remains. He piled the rocks back in place, and then stepped aside. “We should leave. The spirits will be angry.” Travis nodded. He didn’t like it up here. “You won’t get any argument from me.” He unhitched the mule and together they retraced their steps down the trail, picking their way slowly through the treacherous landscape. When they reached the end of the trail, the pair veered off instead of following the path back into town. “You’re sure you want to do this?” Karuk asked as they approached the entrance to the Ghost Canyon Mine. “You’re not going to get cold feet now after we already did the hard part, are you?” Travis responded. He’d been concerned about partnering with the half-breed. The man was a loose-lipped alcoholic and spent most of his time hanging around the bordello even when he wasn’t working there sweeping the floors and picking up after the miners and their women. But Karuk knew the legends. He also knew where the disgraced Paiute warrior, Shilah, rested far from the traditional burial grounds. “I’ll go through with it.” A troubled expression passed across Karuk’s face. “I don’t like playing with dark forces, that’s all. It’s bad luck.” “It’ll be bad luck for Scratchy Bill and his boys when they come down into this mine tomorrow. That much I know.” Travis chuckled. He sure would like to see the faces of the other miners when they found out what would be waiting for them in the darkness. But he wouldn’t be there. Travis would be far from here in the bordello, enjoying a glass or two of rye whiskey and toasting his own newfound good luck. “Let’s get on with it. I want to get back to town.” “Hand me the bag with the bones,” Karuk instructed. “Quickly, now.” Travis unhitched the leather satchel from the mule’s pack, gave it to Karuk. He eyed the mine opening. “How far in do we need to place the bones?” “Near the seam. We want to make sure that no one comes out alive.” “We have to go that far into the mine at this time of night?” Travis felt his gut clench. “You don’t need to come.
