Iron Trail by Cindy Entry #6 in the Sweetwater Station "Bits and Pieces" Contest

The pre-dawn explosion rocked the small town of Blue Creek, awakening many of the town's residents in confusion and fear. Behind the jail, Sheriff Brown awoke with a start, tumbling out of the small cot. He dressed quickly and pulled on his boots, then grabbed his gun and ran out into the street.

Smoke poured from the front of the bank building, though most of the building itself was blocked from view by a large box wagon. Brown paused a moment, trying to recognize the vehicle. But just then shots rang out and he ducked quickly as bullets kicked up dirt and splinters all around him. He could just make out several men jumping into the back of the wagon. No sooner had they slammed the door shut than the wagon took off, pulled by four large horses.

Brown slid around from behind the barrels where he had taken cover and fired off the rounds in his pistol. From around him he could hear other guns firing too as his deputies and some of the other townspeople joined in the fight. But much to his dismay, the bullets just hit the wagon and bounced back with a loud, metallic clink. 

As the wagon disappeared into the distance in a cloud of dust, Brown stood up and waved to the others to quit firing. He stared after the wagon, scratching his head. Then he motioned for one of his deputies to join him. They'd see what the damage was at the bank and then get a posse together. The least they could do was try to find out where this strange monster had disappeared to.

Though he honestly had no idea what they could do even if they found it.

Sweetwater, Wyoming Territory

Cody came jogging back toward the others. As he got close he pointed to a distant tree where he had tied the target. "All right, target's up. Now, we each take a shot, then we back up five paces and shoot again, and keep going 'til one of us misses. Right?"

"I got it, Cody," Buck answered. He pulled the string on his bow again, testing the draw. Then he bent down and picked up some dirt, letting it fall loose from his hand to test the wind.

As Cody retrieved his rifle, Lou shaded her eyes and stared at the target. "Cody, what is that thing you're shooting at?"

"Oh, just some old shoe I found out back of the barn." Cody licked his thumb and held it up, his own preferred method for checking the wind. "Lou, Jimmy, you ready?"

"Yeah, whatever, Cody," Jimmy answered. Being a judge in a shooting contest wasn't exactly what he wanted to be doing. On the other hand, watching Cody's big rifle against Buck's bow could be interesting. He and Lou headed partway down the shooting course to do their duty.

Ike stood back with the contestants, shaking his head. He got Buck's attention and his hands flew in a question.

Buck grinned. "What, you don't think I can do it? And you're supposed to be my best friend!"

"Well now, Buck, being a friend don't mean Ike has to bet on a losing proposition," Cody said.

Buck rubbed the smooth wood of the bow, remembering the day Red Bear had helped him select the strong Osage orange bough. The two of them had worked the wood through the winter, finally testing the bow on the first hunt of the spring. His arrow had flown straight and true, taking his prey with one shot. He had left the Kiowa that summer, so it was one of the last happy memories he had with his brother. He knew what Cody could do with his rifle, but he also knew what a well-made bow could do. "We'll see, Cody."

Cody grinned confidently. "Want to raise the bet?"

Buck just cocked an eyebrow at that one. "Cody, you don't have the money to pay me what you've bet now."

Cody's smile faltered. "Well, I will next payday."

Buck shook his head and smiled. It wasn't like he was doing this for the money. The challenge of shutting Cody up about something had just been too good to pass up. "You gonna shoot sometime today?"

"Don't rush me," Cody answered. He was doing this for the money, and while he wasn't really worried about the first few distances, Buck's confidence had him a little unnerved. He rolled his shoulders back and forth, loosening up. Then he hefted the rifle to his shoulder and sighted carefully. The shoe was blowing slightly in the wind, and he had to make an adjustment for the movement. Then, with a deep breath, he squeezed the trigger, loosing his first shot.

"That's a hit," Jimmy confirmed as the shoe swung harder after the impact.

Cody grinned and bowed, then moved back as Buck stepped up for his shot. The Kiowa rider breathed deeply a couple of times, reaching inside for the calmness needed to send his arrow on a true trajectory. Then he drew the bowstring back and sighted down the arrow, letting his mind become one with the shaft as he gauged the wind. When the shot felt right, he let the string go.

"Hit," Lou confirmed, as the arrow embedded itself into the heel of the old shoe.

"Nice shot," Cody mumbled as he moved back to the line and then stepped off five paces. Buck had made that shot look awfully easy. Still, he and his rifle were a potent combination. He lined up the target for his next shot, then squeezed the trigger.

"Another hit," Jimmy verified as Cody took a bow.

Buck was just setting up for his next shot when Teaspoon came around the back of the barn toward them. "Boys, what's going on?"

"Me an' Buck are having a shooting contest," Cody answered.

"I see," Teaspoon said, walking over toward Buck. He studied the bow with admiration. He'd seen the unstrung bow around the bunkhouse, but this was the first time he'd seen it in use. "Osage orange, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Buck answered. Teaspoon's bit and pieces of knowledge about a wide variety of things still amazed all of them.

"It's a fine bow," Teaspoon said. He stepped back as Buck started to line up his next shot. "Oh, say, any of you boys seen my other shoe anywhere?" He held up the mate to the target. "I think that dog that's been hanging around dragged it off somewhere, can't seem to find it."

Buck lowered the bow and just stared at Cody. Ike was staring at the blond rider too. For his part, Cody swallowed hard and looked out at the target -- which now had 2 bullet holes and an arrow in it. How was he supposed to know... 

Jimmy banged the back of his head on the bottom of the bunk and came up cursing, holding the tender spot. "I don't see why we all have to help clean the bunkhouse," he grumbled. "It was Cody who hung the target."

"Well, all of you helped make the mess," Emma reminded him. She was stationed at the table to oversee the cleanup effort. Her eyes never looked up from the needlework she was doing.

Cody was ignoring the complaining, other things on his mind. They'd had to call the competition off, so he had lost the chance to win money from Buck. Since Teaspoon insisted that he owed the stationmaster another pair of shoes, he was really going to be in a bind, even with payday coming up. It just didn't seem fair. How was he supposed to know that the shoe was part of a set? It seemed like Teaspoon should take better care of his stuff. Amidst his grumbling to himself, he spotted something behind one of the trunks. He grasped one end and pulled, starting to grin as he recognized the item. "Hey, Ike."

Ike looked up and turned around as he heard his name, only to find himself wrapped in a feather boa. "Remember this?" Cody asked.

Ike studied the feathers. Actually, he didn't remember much about that night with Kid's brother Jed. Vague memories of whiskey and a dancing girl touched his mind. Of course, he'd certainly heard enough about arriving back at the station with the boa around his neck.

"It's your color, Ike," Cody said, laughing as Ike started to chase him with the boa.

Just then Lou came up from behind one of the bunks with another prize. "Oh, Cody," she said sweetly. When he stopped in front of her, she quickly clipped a green jeweled earring onto his ear. "Maybe you remember this."

Cody gulped. It was that same night, when they were all drunk, most of them for the first time ever. The same dancing girl who'd wrapped Ike in the boa had put the earrings on him. He wondered where the other one was . . .

"Oh, Cody, it's your color," Buck teased, quickly ducking as Cody pulled the earring off and threw it at him.

"Oh, very funny, Buck," Cody grumbled.

"I only speak the truth," Buck deadpanned, retreating behind Emma as he started laughing uncontrollably and Cody advanced on him.

"Boys, Lou, this isn't getting your work done," Emma reminded them. Though truthfully she was finding it hard not to smile. It was good to see the kids having some fun.

The bickering was cut short by the sound of a rider approaching fast. Since Kid was the only rider out, and he wasn't due back until the next day, this got everyone's attention. There was a scramble for the door as everyone hurried outside.

Sam Cain was already talking to Teaspoon in the yard as the others approached. From the look on Sam's face, it didn't appear that he had come with good news.

"Sam, what brings you here?" Emma asked.

Sam took off his hat and nodded a greeting. "Emma, boys. I got some news from Blue Creek today, and I wanted to discuss it with Teaspoon."

Jimmy stepped forward. "What's going on, Sam?"

Sam sighed. He really hadn't intended to get the boys involved in this. Then again, the boys had helped him out numerous times, so it wasn't all that surprising that they'd want to know the status now. "There have been a number of bank robberies in the area recently," he said. "Now the thing's that making this different is the way this gang does it. They've got a wagon that's been covered with armored plating. Bullets just bounce off. But they have some slits that they can fire through, so they're pretty dangerous."

"They can shoot out, but no one can shoot in," Teaspoon observed.

"Exactly," Sam agreed. "The Sheriff in Blue Creek took a posse out after them. They caught up with the wagon, only to get cut down by a hail of bullets. Three of the men from the posse were killed, and the Sheriff was shot up pretty bad. He might not make it."

"And I guess they didn't get the guys in the wagon," Cody said.

"No, the deputy pulled everyone back so they could take care of the wounded," Sam answered. "Then he took another posse out, tracked the wagon back beyond where they had the shootout. And then the weirdest thing -- he said the tracks just disappeared."

"Wagon tracks don't just disappear," Buck observed. "Especially not something heavy with armored plating like that."

"I was thinking that too," Sam replied. "But that's what the letter says. The deputy sent word out to a few surrounding towns so we'll know what's going on."

"I could go take a look," Buck offered. "Maybe I could find some tracks."

"Thanks, Buck. But this happened five days ago. If they couldn't find tracks then, I doubt we'd find anything now, especially since it rained a couple of nights ago."

"Anything you do want us to do, Sam?" Teaspoon asked.

"Well, as you boys are out riding, just keep your eyes open," the Marshal replied. "If you see anything suspicious, you let me know." He paused, sighing in frustration. "Not much else we can do until they strike again."

Emma perused the shelves in the general store, looking at the new items that Tompkins was stocking. The storekeeper was in the back room, assembling some of the supplies on the list that she had brought in. She added a jar of molasses and a couple of other small items to the pile on the counter, then went back to looking.

Lou took advantage of Tompkins' absence to check out the selection of perfumes. She really didn't want to deal with any questions about why one of the "boys" from the Express station was thinking about buying perfume. 

Buck was also taking advantage of Tompkins' absence to look around. He was all too aware that the storekeeper didn't want him in the store, so being able to look at things without being under constant observation was a treat. Still, he'd be glad when Emma's supplies were ready and he could help get things loaded. The less time he spent in this store, the better he liked it.

Lou opened the top of one perfume bottle and sniffed, smiling immediately. "Emma, come smell this one!"

Emma came over and leaned in, sniffing the perfume. "Oh, Lou, that is very nice." She smiled and added, "I know someone's head that would turn if you wore that."

Lou sighed and recapped the bottle. "Yeah, like I ever get a chance to wear something like this," she said softly.

"Well, you just never know," Emma replied. "You deserve a treat now and then. Why don't you get it? We'll find an opportunity for you to wear it."

Lou chewed on her bottom lip, thinking. It would be nice to have something like this on hand -- just in case she did have a chance to go somewhere as a lady. She lifted the bottle again, looking at the bottom where the price was marked. When she saw the number written there, she gasped. "Oh, look how expensive this is! Of course I'd like the expensive one."

Emma looked at the price. She had to agree that it was a little expensive. Still, she felt bad that Lou hardly ever got to experience the things most women took for granted. "Well, it's a bit of money," she said. "But sometimes it's worth it. Let's see what a man thinks of it. Buck, would you come over here please?"

Buck approached the two women with a bit of trepidation. The smiles on their faces had him a little worried about what he was walking into. But he was determined not to show fear. "Emma?"

Emma had to smile at Buck's hesitant step, and the way he stopped a few feet away. It was amazing how otherwise brave, strong men could be terrified when they didn't understand women. "Well, come closer, Buck," she said. "We're not going to hurt you." She waited as he took two more steps, then held out the perfume bottle. "We just need a man's opinion. If the woman you were courting was wearing this perfume, would you like it?"

The woman he was courting? The way things had been going, Buck wasn't sure that was ever going to happen. And he was very sure that if he ever did find someone who really loved him, her perfume would be about the last thing he'd worry about. Still, if that's all Lou and Emma wanted, it didn't really sound too difficult. He leaned in toward the bottle Lou was holding out.

Just then gunfire erupted out on the street from the direction of the bank. Buck straightened up quickly -- but not quite quick enough. Lou jumped when the shooting started, splashing some of the perfume all over Buck's shirt. She quickly recapped the bottle and put it down, trying not to giggle at the pained expression on Buck's face.

Continued shooting forced Buck's attention away from the fact that he now smelled like flowers. With a roll of his eyes in Emma's direction, he ran for the door, gun out.

Lou ran around the table and followed Buck, drawing her gun as she went. She just got out onto the wooden walkway when Buck tackled her from behind. Before she could even open her mouth to protest, a spray of bullets exploded around them, even as they heard a large wagon rumbling by.

As the gunfire moved on by, Buck got up and started firing at the wagon. When Buck's weight disappeared from her back, Lou scrambled up and fired with him. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Sam, Barnett, and a couple of other men running down the street, their guns blazing. 

But all of the bullets being fired fell harmlessly back onto the street, bouncing off of the iron-plated armor on the wagon.

The wagon rumbled along, the four strong horses pulling it along at a fast pace. Then, a few miles outside of Sweetwater, the wagon slowed and the back door opened. A pole was lowered out of the door, attached to the back of the wagon by two chains. From the pole, strips of rawhide hung down to the ground. When the wagon went back up to speed, the strips acted like a giant broom, sweeping away the wagon wheel tracks as the vehicle veered north, away from the main trail.

"What kind of help do you want, Sam?" Teaspoon asked. Jimmy was out on a run, but the others were all gathered around, waiting to hear the answer themselves.

"Well, Barnett is rounding up a few men from town for a posse, but I could use a little more help," Sam answered. "And Buck, I could sure use your help on the tracking end, in case those tracks disappear like outside of Blue Creek."

"It's fine with me," Buck said. After seeing the armored wagon himself, he was anxious to get another crack at it anyway. He looked to Teaspoon to see if the stationmaster would agree.

Teaspoon nodded, considering his options. "Buck, you saddle up. Cody, Kid, you too. And saddle my horse," he said. He watched the three young men run off toward the barn then turned to the remaining riders. "Ike, Lou, the two of you and Jimmy need to stay here and keep the mail runs going." Before the two riders in front of him could argue, Teaspoon turned back to Sam. "That gives you four more in the posse."

"That'll be a big help, Teaspoon," Sam said. He shook his head. "This is going to be a rough one. Even though I'd heard about this wagon, I have to tell you, it was pretty awesome to see. I don't know how we're going to take it."

"Well," Teaspoon drawled, "let's just worry about finding it first. And then, I'm sure we'll figure out something."

Sam stopped his horse and dismounted, scratching his head. He didn't want to believe it, but the wagon tracks, which had been clear as day, had disappeared. 

Teaspoon walked up behind the Marshal. "Sam?" Looking down at the ground himself, he could already see what was puzzling the lawman. "Damn, a wagon doesn't just disappear." He bent down, studying the ground.

While the rest of the posse waited impatiently, Buck dismounted and walked around the two men already searching for tracks. He stood for a moment, studying the ground right where the wheel marks disappeared. Then he crouched down, running his fingers lightly over the ground even as his eyes moved around, taking in the smallest details around him. He stood up and moved a few steps in the direction the wagon had been traveling, then turned and slowly made a circle around the tracks. 

"Cain, they're getting farther away the longer we wait here," Tompkins complained. It had been a while since he'd ridden out with a posse, and he really hated waiting. What he hated even more, of course, was that everyone was deferring to the half-breed rider.

Sam and Teaspoon turned as one, glaring at the storekeeper. "Not gonna do us any good to just go riding off without knowing where we're going, Tompkins," Sam said. "The trail ends right here, and we're going to give Buck all the time he needs to see if he can find something."

Before Tompkins could argue, Buck turned toward the group, pointing north. "This way," he said simply.

Teaspoon walked over next to his rider, studying the ground. "What're you seeing, Buck?"

"They're using something to wipe the wheel tracks," Buck answered. "And it's doing a good job." He knelt down, pointing to something on the ground. "But look here -- see how the dirt is rippled, like waves? That's not natural. Something went through here."

Sam had moved up, looking over Teaspoon's shoulder. "That's real faint, Buck," he observed. "You think you'll be able to follow it?"

Buck stood up, nodding. "Now that I know what I'm looking for, I should be able to, Sam. But we won't be moving fast."

All three men looked to the west, where the sun was already beginning to sink low on the horizon. They didn't have much time left before they'd have to stop for the night -- this was not a trail that could be followed by moonlight.

They settled in for the night, an uneasy mood over the camp. A posse with a clear trail to follow after its prey stayed more upbeat, their quarry all but visible and their purpose apparent. But now, with only the vaguest of trails to follow, enthusiasm, like the signs of the tracks, faded.

Each of the men in the posse handled the prospect of a long hunt differently. Off to one side, Tompkins corralled Sam. "Cain, we're following a ghost trail," he complained. "That half-breed is leading us into the middle of nowhere. We should go back to the main trail and follow that."

"There weren't any tracks at all continuing on the main trail," Sam reminded the other man. In the time he'd been Marshal in Sweetwater, this was the first time Tompkins had ever volunteered for a posse. Sam couldn't help but wonder what stroke of bad luck had imposed the surly shopkeeper on them this time.

"Then you tell me how anyone could bring a wagon through this country," Tompkins insisted.

"Did you see it in town?" Sam asked. "That was one strong wagon." He looked around, hoping that Teaspoon or one of the Express riders would come to his rescue. 

"So you're going to keep following the Indian," Tompkins concluded angrily.

Sam sighed, taking a moment before answering. "Look, Tompkins, I know you don't like Buck. But he's ridden with me before, and he's a damn good tracker. If he says we're on the trail, then I'll follow him." He paused, wondering if maybe it was Tompkins who'd better hope for a rescue if he didn't stop complaining soon. "If you want to go back, you can head out in the morning."

Tompkins just shook his head angrily. "This is a big mistake, Cain." He grabbed his bedroll and stomped off.

Sam watched the other man go, relieved that the fight was over -- for now. With any luck the shopkeeper would go sulk alone and leave the others alone for a while. The man had complained -- loudly -- most of the day, most of it aimed directly at Buck. 

Maybe if he wished really hard, Tompkins would take him up on the offer to leave the next day.

Fortunately, Buck at least seemed to be successfully ignoring Tompkins’ griping. But the angry looks from Cody, Kid, and Teaspoon had been pretty hard to miss on the ride. If things didn’t improve, Sam wasn’t at all sure the shopkeeper would make it back to Sweetwater in one piece.

And truthfully, he wasn’t at all sure he’d do anything to intervene.

Around the camp, everyone was busy. Buck had a fire going, while Teaspoon and Kid were setting out supplies for a meal. Cody and Barnett were tending the horses. Tompkins was setting out his bedroll – well away from the others, Sam noted. Two of the other men, George Watson, who worked at the livery stable, and the town’s boot maker, Walter Shaw, were gathering wood. Calvin Hill, Sweetwater’s newspaper editor and the final member of the posse, had headed for the nearby creek to fill canteens.

Sam walked over and joined Teaspoon, Kid, and Buck near the fire. “What gourmet treat are you planning for dinner?”

Kid looked up and grinned. “Can’t get much more gourmet than baked beans, can you, Sam?”

Sam grinned in return. Baked beans in a camp in the middle of nowhere – what a surprise. “I guess after riding all day, anything warm will taste pretty good,” he answered.

Buck reached down beside his leg and held up a container. “Emma sent molasses along, so that should help.”

“And I got some of my special secret recipe jerky,” Teaspoon added. He held a package up to his nose and sniffed deeply, sighing in satisfaction.

Buck and Kid finished setting the pot of beans over the fire, then Buck used his knife to pry open the molasses. He added a good amount into the pot to sweeten the beans, then they all sat back to wait for the food to heat.

Sam pushed his hat back on his forehead, considering some options. As much as he hated to bring the topic up, he figured he’d better find out how the Express group was really dealing with Tompkins. “Buck, I’m real sorry about the way Tompkins is complaining.”

“Ain’t like he’s offered any better solution to finding that wagon,” Kid muttered angrily.

“I know I’m following the right trail, Sam,” Buck said softly.

“I ain’t doubting you, Buck,” Sam said. “Long as you say we’re on the trail, that’s good enough for me.”

“You know it’s good enough for us too,” Kid added.

“Wonder what made Tompkins decide to join the posse,” Teaspoon mused. “Ain’t really in character for him.” Of course, the complaining was definitely in character.

“Barnett said Tompkins mentioned just making a big deposit at the bank,” Sam answered. “I guess a lot of the money those guys stole is his.”

“Then you’d think he’d be happy Buck found that faint trail at all,” Kid observed.

Buck just shook his head. “He’s not going to be happy with anything I do.”

“I told him he was free to head back to town,” Sam said. “Or go back to the main trail. He’s convinced that wagon couldn’t be going this far out off the trail.”

“We wouldn’t get so lucky that he’d leave,” Kid muttered.

“I saw that wagon in town,” Buck said. “It was heavy, but real sturdy.”

“Yeah, that’s what I told Tompkins,” Sam replied. He reached over to grasp the younger man’s shoulder. “You’ll find the wagon, Buck.”

Buck just nodded and leaned over to stir the now-bubbling beans. With the trail leading them into country that was more and more rocky, he just hoped Sam’s confidence wasn’t misplaced.

After dinner, small groups broke out in the camp. Watson, Shaw, and Barnett gathered around Teaspoon, listening in awe to the colorful tales the stationmaster could tell. And for his part, Teaspoon was glad to have a new audience – he could tell his favorite tales, and not worry too much about getting called on something if he . . . embellished a bit.

Calvin and Cody sat together talking. The editor had volunteered for the posse to get some first-hand experience out in the real West, something exciting to write about. He found a kindred spirit in Cody, who was all too happy to regale the newsman with tales of his own adventures. True, he bristled a bit when Calvin referred to his precious rifle as “that elephant gun,” but the promise of seeing his adventures in print offset that. Hill had even brought the latest issue of the newspaper with him, and he used it to illustrate how the stories could be laid out.

Sam sat with Buck and Kid, quietly discussing their options for the next day. Buck wasn’t the only one to have noticed the terrain they were entering. The already-slim traces of the wagon could disappear altogether if the ground got rocky enough.

Tompkins sat by himself, occasionally glaring at one group or another. He’d suggested – again, and quite reasonably – that they should get back to the main trail and keep going, instead of wasting the night. But with Cain and Hunter backing the Indian, everyone else had agreed to stay with the slow tracking the next day. Tompkins was quite convinced they were following a phantom trail, but he couldn’t convince anyone else. In the end he retreated to his bedroll, pulled the blankets up, and stewed in frustration until he fell asleep.

“Holy crap, the vultures are eating my head!” 

The sharp cry woke everyone else in the camp, and they came to just in time to see Tompkins struggle out of his blankets. Two large black birds flew away as he got up. A small lizard scampered away too, its meal disrupted by the ruckus.

Teaspoon rubbed his eyes groggily and looked around. The sky was still dark, so it was well before dawn. “Tompkins, what are you yellin’ about?”

Tompkins ran his hand through his hair, pulling it out full of a sticky brown goo. “Someone put molasses in my hair,” he declared. “And those vultures were eating my head!”

“Those were crows, not vultures,” Buck said, returning to his blankets. 

Tompkins glared over at where the three Express riders were sitting. “One of you riders did this,” he said. “I know you did.” He stalked toward them, pointing at Buck. “You, you did this. Just because I’m the only one with the guts to say you’re making up this so-called trail you’re following.”

Buck looked up from his bedroll, one eyebrow cocked in a manner that should have warned Tompkins away. “I didn’t do it,” he said evenly. “Heathen savage that I am, if I had done something like that, you’d be staked out naked in the middle of nowhere with the real vultures, and the ants, and the snakes.” He kept his voice low, but there was a definite undercurrent of a threat in his tone.

Tompkins took a step back, considering. He had picked up on the threat – and, given his preconceived prejudice against Indians, he now believed the guilty party lay elsewhere. “Well, it was one of you riders, that much I know,” he grumbled.

Cody and Kid just looked at each other and shrugged innocently. To those who knew him best, however, Cody’s face looked just a little too innocent to be believed.

Sam sighed, using it to cover the laughter he was trying to keep contained. Sometimes he just really hated being in charge, because that was a damn good prank. As Marshal, he just couldn’t admit it out loud. “Barnett, you had the watch after me. You see anything?”

The deputy shook his head. “Nope, sure didn’t. Must have been while I was checkin’ the perimeter.”

Cody got up and walked over toward the shopkeeper’s bedroll. “Tompkins, I’ll bet I know what happened,” he said. He pointed to one side where the lizard had stopped and was staring back at them. “I’ll bet that lizard came into camp and smelled the molasses. He probably rolled the can around trying to get into it, and it just came open over here by you.” From the location of the open can, that was a perfectly reasonable explanation. Someone had set that up beautifully – even if he did say so himself.

Tompkins just shook his head in disbelief. He was supposed to believe a lizard had done this? But before he could say anything, Sam stepped in. “Well, whatever happened, everyone’s awake now so let’s get moving. Tompkins, you go wash the molasses off. The rest of us will get breakfast going and pack up. That way we can be off with the first light.”

Tompkins stood still a moment longer, debating whether to argue. But once again, he could tell that he stood alone. Well, so be it! He stalked off toward the creek, his step faltering only slightly as he heard the rest of the camp break out into laughter behind him.

It was a slow, hot journey. They stopped frequently as Buck dismounted and studied the increasingly rocky ground carefully. At times, he wandered quite a distance on foot, leaving his horse in Kid's care.

They were stopped now, waiting as Buck made yet another circuit on foot. They were entering an area of hills and canyons, with many branching paths that could be hiding the wagon.

Barnett took advantage of the break to peruse the newspaper Calvin had brought. "Look here," he said. "If'n we had one of these here hot air balloons, we could just fly up high and spot the wagon."

"Well, we don't have a balloon," Tompkins said, angrily snatching the paper away from the deputy's hand. He rolled the newspaper up and used it to swat bugs away from his horse. "We don't need dreaming, we need a solid plan!"

Buck walked back to the group just then. He pointedly ignored Tompkins, going past the shopkeeper to where Sam was standing. "They went up that canyon to the right," he said, pointing the way. 

"Well, let's get going, people," Sam said. "We're gonna catch these guys."

They watched as Buck came sliding down the hill toward them. When he reached the bottom he ran quickly back to the group. "The wagon's there," he reported, pausing just a moment to cast a victorious glance in Tompkins' direction. "But the canyon opens up a little so they're in the open, lots of room around the wagon. Gonna be hard to get in real close."

"We got the advantage of high ground," Teaspoon pointed out. "Leastways we can scope things out from up on top of the hill."

"Let's go," Sam agreed. He pulled his rifle free and followed Buck back up the slope.

At the top, the men spread out, falling to their bellies and edging to the rim of the canyon, studying the situation. As Buck had reported, the wagon sat on the canyon floor, with lots of open space surrounding it on the sides and at the back. The four horses were still hitched, but there was no other sign of life.

"Buck, did you see anyone when you were up here before?" Sam asked.

Buck shook his head. "No, it was just like this. But I did go down the canyon rim a ways, and there was nothing to show they left."

Sam nodded, taking in the information and considering his options. Unfortunately, he didn't find a lot of options to consider. "Well, I guess we better find out for sure if they're still in the wagon," he said. He started to stand up.

"Be careful, Sam," Teaspoon warned. He knew the words were unnecessary, but it still felt better to say them.

Sam took a deep breath as he came all the way to his feet. He pulled off his hat and squared his shoulders, then, in his best authoritative lawman's voice, he called out, "This is Marshal Sam Cain. I'm ordering you to come out and surrender!"

For a moment, all was quiet. Then all of a sudden the wagon seemed to come to life as gun barrels sprouted from the slits high on the wagon's sides. Up on top a hatch opened, with more guns poking out. And then, as if on cue, the guns all started firing.

Sam barely had time to drop to the ground before bullets began to kick up the dirt all around them. The men of the posse returned fire as they could, only to have all their bullets bounce off harmlessly.

As the shooting paused on both sides, Calvin Hill looked down at the smoking pistol in his hand, and then at the big rifle Cody was wielding next to him. Despite the difference in the size of the weapons, the result had been the same. "You didn't get penetration, even with the elephant gun!"

Cody just glared at the newsman, then turned his attention back to the rifle. He wasn't accustomed to coming up against anything he and the rifle couldn't handle.

Sam slid down the slope a little, out of sight of the men in the wagon. "Cody, George, the two of you stay here and watch that wagon. Just stay low!"

The rest of them slid down the slope to the flatter ground below. All of them looked a bit worried -- and confused.

Sam slumped onto the ground, a worried look on his face. “Well, if anyone has any ideas, I’d love to hear them,” he said.

“If we all aim real careful, maybe we can shoot into the slits in the side,” Shaw suggested. Even as he said it though, he had to admit that his own skill with a gun probably wasn’t up to that challenge.

“Still a long shot that you’d hit anyone inside,” Calvin pointed out. He was frantically scribbling some notes on his adventure to be written up later – assuming he survived.

“We need a way to get them to open the door,” Kid mused.

“Maybe you could just go up and knock,” Tompkins growled. Even after the miracle of the Indian actually finding the wagon, everything they’d done so far was as effective as hitting the wagon with the rolled up newspaper he’d been using against bugs.

“We need to make them want to come out,” Teaspoon drawled, the wheels turning in his head as a couple of options came to mind.

“You got an idea how to do that, Teaspoon?” Sam asked. 

“Might be I do,” Teaspoon answered slowly. “Buck, I seen you brung your bow along. Think you could put an arrow through one of those slits?”

“Sure,” Buck answered confidently. “But I wouldn’t stand any better chance of hitting something inside that I can’t see than we do with guns.”

“Well, that’s true,” Teaspoon conceded. “But what if we lit that arrow on fire first? I’m thinkin’ a fire inside that iron box might be a reason for them to open that door.”

Sam opened his mouth to compliment the plan, but before he could say anything another party weighed in with an opinion.

“NO!”

As all eyes turned toward Tompkins, the shopkeeper shifted nervously under all the attention. “That’s a lot of my money in that wagon,” he explained in a quieter, calmer voice. “You start a fire in there, it’s all gonna burn.” Then, realizing that his personal appeal might not carry a lot of weight with this group, he added, “A lot of other people in Sweetwater had money in the bank too. You can’t just burn it all up.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Sam had to acknowledge that the man had a point. “Well, we’ll keep the burning arrow idea in mind. If we can’t come up with something else, we might have to come back to it. Burning money or no, I am not letting that wagon get away.”

While everyone went back to thinking of ideas that might work, Kid got up and walked over to where Katy was tethered with the other horses. He dug something out of one of the saddlebags then turned and went back to the group. “What about these?”

“Firecrackers?” Barnett asked.

Kid nodded. “I’ve used them a few times on runs when I’ve been chased. Figure a few of them popping inside that wagon might get the door open.”

“The sparks could still start a fire,” Shaw pointed out.

“True, but a lot less risk, I’d say,” Calvin replied. He bent over his paper, scribbling more notes about firecrackers.

“Just how are you planning to get the firecrackers inside the wagon?” Tompkins asked.  “You can’t just walk up and drop them in.”

Buck got up and walked over to Kid, taking a few of the firecrackers in his hand. “We can still use my bow,” he said slowly, playing with the weight of the tiny explosives. “I can attach these so that the arrow is still balanced and will fly true.”

That got Teaspoon on his feet too. “You sure, Buck? That extra weight is gonna change the way that arrow flies.”

“I’ll take a couple of practice shots back here without the fuses lit, just to get the feel of it,” Buck answered.  “But I’m sure I can do it.”

“What do you think, Sam?” Teaspoon asked.

“I think it’s worth a try,” the Marshal replied. He certainly wasn’t an expert with a bow, and it sounded like a tricky shot, but if Buck could get the firecrackers inside the wagon, it just might work.

“The noise is apt to spook the horses,” Buck pointed out.

Sam nodded in agreement. “Cody, George, you two been watching the wagon. You think you could get around up to the horses and unhitch them?”

Cody leaned a little farther over the canyon rim, studying the terrain. Then he pulled back and said, “We can do it, Sam. There’s enough cover to get pretty close to the horses. And the hatch up front there is closed.”

Sam thought for a moment, quickly forming his plan. “All right, here’s what we’ll do. Barnett, you take Tompkins and Calvin and work your way back down the canyon a ways until you’ve got a clear line at that back door.”

“Sure thing, Marshal,” Barnett replied.

“I’ll take Cody, George, and Walter with me the other way,” Sam continued. “While Cody and George release the horses, Walter and I will try and get up on the other side of the canyon.” He paused, then added, “Once the horses are free from the wagon, you stay with them, George. Cody, you come up and join us.” If they managed to get the robbers out in the open, Cody’s big rifle could come in handy.

“You got it, Sam,” Cody said.

“Teaspoon, Kid, you stay here and help Buck,” Sam added, finishing his plan. “Then when that door opens, you’ll be up here to provide cover.”

“Sounds good, Sam,” Teaspoon answered. “How we gonna know when everyone’s ready?”

Sam thought about that for a moment then asked, “Buck, you figure half an hour is enough time for you to be ready?”

“Should be fine,” Buck replied.

“All right, George, you got a watch?” When the livery man nodded, Sam continued, “All right, you check the time now. Then you and Cody wait thirty minutes before going for the horses. And Buck, soon as you see them get the horses away, you take your shot. The rest of us will just wait for the bang.”

There were nods of agreement all around and the men quickly gathered their guns and extra ammunition. Then Sam and Barnett led their groups off to get into position for what they hoped would be the final, successful assault on the armored wagon.

Left alone on the ridge, Teaspoon built a small fire near the top so they could light the fuse on the firecrackers as Buck fired. Buck and Kid busied themselves with finding the best way to attach the devices to an arrow. When they finally had a design worked out, Buck took a few test shots, checking for how the added weight changed the trajectory of his shot. His first test shot glanced off of the target, but the next three were all dead-on, so he pronounced the plan ready to go.

Thirty minutes after the plan was formulated, George Watson and Cody used the available rocks and tall grass to slither up to the team of horses standing patiently in front of the wagon. The front hatch, where a driver could reach out and handle the reins, was still closed, so they had little trouble getting the harnesses undone. George led the horses slowly away while Cody climbed up into the rocks to take his place with Sam’s group.

From atop the ridge, Kid watched the horses being led away and he turned to signal to the others with him. Buck stood up and sighted on his first shot, then nodded to Teaspoon.  The stationmaster touched a burning stick to the fuse and Buck loosed the arrow. Kid promptly handed up the next special arrow and the pattern was repeated – sight, nod, light, shoot. A third arrow quickly followed.

The first arrow flew straight and true, whistling cleanly through one of the gun slits. The short fuse was nearly burned up by the time the arrow reached the interior of the wagon, and the firecrackers quickly started popping.  In the confined space inside the wagon, this caused great confusion among the five men taking refuge there. The iron plating that protected them from the inside served to keep the sound inside, magnifying the noise level, and sending the men scrambling to cover their ears. 

When the second and third firecracker arrows arrived, the noise became unbearable. The man closest to the door fumbled for the handle, throwing the door open. The five men stumbled out, shaken from the noise and fumbling for their guns. But they were quickly met by a hail of heavy gunfire that scattered the dirt all around them. As their eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight, one by one they dropped their guns and threw up their hands as the members of the posse appeared, all of them with guns trained unflinchingly on the wagon’s former occupants.

With the money safely returned to the bank, the robbers locked up securely in the jail, and Tompkins back in his retail emporium (and thus out of the riders' hair), the work of the posse was finished. In the bunkhouse, those who had ridden on the hunt regaled the others with tales of the great chase.

"You should have seen Buck make those shots," Kid said. "Those arrows just sailed right in, firecrackers and all. It was like someone was guiding them."

"I asked the great spirits to help me," Buck said. He looked around at the looks of disbelief he was getting and shrugged. "Well, it can't hurt!"

"Made a believer out of me," Kid agreed.

"Spirits and bows!" Jimmy snorted. "I'll tell you, hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side, Kid." For good measure he patted the Colt on his hip.

"I don't know, Jimmy," Cody said. "Even my 'elephant gun' didn't dent that armor."

"Guns can't solve everything, Jimmy," Lou said.

Jimmy just shook his head and unholstered the Colt to polish it. Despite what he'd heard, he wasn't ready to admit that the posse couldn't have resolved the standoff with guns. Still, he wished he'd been there.

Cody was standing off to one side, whispering something to Ike. The silent rider looked over to where Buck was sitting, then back to Cody, grinning and nodding. With his hands suspiciously hidden behind his back, Cody stepped forward. "Say, Buck, something I really need to ask you." 

"What's that, Cody?" Buck asked.

Cody's face was covered in an ear-to-ear smile. "Well, Buck, see I was just wondering why it was that, through the whole time with the posse, you smelled like flowers?"

Buck could feel the hot flush of a blush covering his face and he glared over at Lou, who simply responded with her most sweet and innocent smile. "Just, never mind, Cody," he mumbled. Was it his fault the perfume had soaked through all the layers, and he hadn't had time to change before heading out to track the robbers down?

"It was a real nice scent, Buck," Cody insisted. "But we thought you needed something to go with it."

Buck glanced up, an alarmed look on his face. He started to get up from the table but he was too late. Ike had moved in behind him, and Buck now found himself wrapped in the feather boa. Even as he turned to challenge Ike, Cody moved in from the other side, intent on clipping the green earring onto Buck's unadorned ear.

Buck managed to spin away from Ike, confronting Cody just as the blond rider's hand was stretched out to affix the jewelry. Wisely choosing retreat as the safest course of action, Cody turned and ran out of the bunkhouse. Buck followed right on his heels, the feathers still flowing from around his shoulders. 

The other riders quickly gathered outside, watching with undisguised glee as Buck chased Cody, finally cornering him near the corral. 

From the porch of the main house, Teaspoon and Emma watched the whole scene in disbelief. As the two riders grappled and fell to the ground in a swirl of feathers, Teaspoon just shook his head slowly. "I don't know what's going on," he said. "And I'm pretty sure I don't want to."

Emma just smiled and poured more lemonade. Unlike a couple of the times Kid and Jimmy had gone at each other, this episode seemed to be much less serious in nature.

Near the corral, Buck and Cody had already disentangled themselves from each other. It was too hard to concentrate on wrestling when each of them was mud and feather-covered. But in the spirit of camaraderie, the others piled on top, creating a jumble of arms and legs as they joined in the fun.

Life had returned to "normal" at the Sweetwater Pony Express Station.

.