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.
