Strongheart by Don Bendell Page B

that hogleg inta action,” the white-haired old man mused, “but studyin’ ya, ya have thet look. Ya have seen the elephant, ain’t ya, boy?”
    Joshua grinned. He had heard that Civil War phrase from Dan. Boys in the Civil War who had that faraway look of battle fatigue in their eyes were said to have seen the elephant.
    Smiling, Joshua said, “Sir, I have traveled the ridgelines a few times.”
    Zack said, “So are ya injun or half-breed?”
    â€œMy mother was white,” Joshua replied matter-of-factly, “and my father was Lakota, a Sioux the white men call them.”
    â€œSo when your mama decide ta sail on the sea a matrimony,” Zack said, “she decided ta use a canoe?”
    Zack and Joshua both laughed heartily at Zachariah’s joke. Strongheart finally replied, “I guess so, sir.”
    â€œDon’t go sirring me, son,” Banta said, “makes me feel old. Call me Zack. Wal, one good thing is they split up, so ya kin tangle with ’em one or two at a time,” the old man continued. “I heerd ’em talking about it.”
    â€œDo you know where they headed?”
    â€œWal, lessee,” Zack responded, “as I recall, big old Gorilla Moss and his kid, Percival, headed south down past Westcliffe. I think Ruddy Cheeks Carroll said he was gonna ride with ’em as fur as Westcliffe. They asked me how ta get to Music Pass. Ya know where all them places are?”
    â€œYes,” Joshua said. “We were talking about Westcliffe and the Colfax Colony on the stage.”
    Zack replied, “Now, mind ya, Colfax Colony sprang up southwesta Westcliffe. Music Pass is beyond that and runs ya over the Sangre de Cristos and smack into the Great Sand Dunes. Make sure ya got a good kerchief when ya travel over there.”
    Joshua was feeling weak in his knees from blood loss, and Zachariah took notice. The old man did not miss much.
    â€œWere I you,” Zach said, “I’d git me a bed fer the night in the hotel yonder and rest. Eat some now and eat good of the mornin’. Then ya kin proper track and kill them rascals as needed.”
    Joshua said, “Thanks, but I’ll be all right, Zack.”
    Zack chuckled. “You are a man what keeps his oath if ever I seed one. I know they took yer money, son. I’ll go fer ya on the hotel and the vittles. It won’t do ya no good in a shoot-out to be passin’ out from blood loss. Ya kin pay me back someday.”
    Joshua grinned and said, “I am very grateful, Zack.”
    The next morning, after a hearty breakfast including ham, poached eggs, coffee, and peach pie, Joshua headed off south to locate three of the holdup men. He had gotten more information the night before and had his wounds cleaned up and bandaged again. He felt much more refreshed and a little stronger, although he was sore from head to toe.
    The magnificent horse climbed the long, winding road up to the center of the Wet Mountain Valley. Up above, Joshua looked at the awesome snowcapped peaks looming above him to his right, as the horse’s smooth, fast trot ate up the miles.
    It was still morning when he rode into the small town, and he headed for a squat building that had the simple word “Saloon” neatly painted on a long wooden sign above its door. Joshua had vowed never to drink again, and he would not, but he knew this would be the best place to get information. Saloons were in every town in the West. In fact, when new towns sprang up, the saloon was one of the first businesses, if not the first business, to open up, no matter where. The saloon was where all the men in each town met to pass and learn the latest gossip, socialize, and discuss everything from beef prices to politics. It was for exactly that reason that Strongheart entered the place of drink.
    He walked up to the bar and a very tall, very slender man with a long handlebar mustache walked up to him.
    Joshua said,