Rock Slide

Chapter 1

The dust was still boiling out of the gorge just south of Silverton. Half a dozen heavily armed riders were looking down the raw cut of the steep mountain. With their rifles pointing down the slope, the eyes of all the riders were searching the rubble for any signs of life. The smell of dynamite smoke was still in the air.

A rider far to the left let out a shout as he pointed to an object far down the rock slide. One of the other riders on a big black stallion pulled out some field glasses and scanned the area of interest. He spotted the mangled corpse of a dead horse among the big boulders. The field glasses were passed around the group. It was the consensus of all these riders that the dead horse belonged to the man they had been trying to kill and rob.

Two riders dismounted and started the dangerous climb down the rocks to the dead horse. The boulders were loose from the dynamite charges, and several small rock slides resulted as the men slowly made their way to the horse. Their goal was to confirm that its rider was dead, and recover a large cache of gold coins and bars. A hat was found near the dead horse. With considerable effort, the two men were able to pull the saddlebags laden with gold from the half- buried dead horse. One good repeater rifle was also retrieved. The only sign of the downed rider was his fancy flat-crown hat, black with silver trim and wide brim. The heavy saddlebags and black hat were hauled back up the dangerous rock slide face to the waiting riders.

There was considerable discussion among the six riders. Eventually, the big man on the black stallion pointed out some instructions. Three riders headed north back toward Silverton. One of these three had the fancy black hat. He threw his old hat into the air with two of the riders shooting at it. He then put the black hat with all the silver trim squarely on his own head. Those three riders then disappeared around a big curve in the high mountainous road toward Silverton.

The apparent leader of the band, the tall man with field glasses riding the black stallion, continued to scan the boulders below looking for any sign of movement or life. The sun was just dropping below the mountain ridge to the west when the remaining riders, the gold-laden saddlebags, and the repeating rifle finally headed south toward Durango.