The Rider of Phantom Canyon by Don Bendell Page B

town of Westcliffe in the Wet Mountain Valley. Beyond it was the east entrance of the Royal Gorge, which had sheer rock walls rising straight up to over 1,100 feet in some places, and it ran for eight miles to Parkdale.
    It was daybreak, and Strongheart was up and ready to head to the hot spring when he heard gunshots coming out of the gorge. With the sound of the rapids, he thought this was unusual, but with the solid rock walls and narrow canyon, it was understandable. After soaking up the warmth into his muscular body, he dressed and decided on a leisurely breakfast in the hotel dining room.
    Strongheart was enjoying a plate of eggs, steak, potatoes, sliced tomatoes, coffee, and grape juice, followed by rhubarb pie and several cups of hot coffee. He was really savoring this meal after several days up in the mountains eating over a campfire.
    Two men walked in, both wearing business suits, picking a table in the far corner of the room. One, wearing a gray derby tilted to the right, looked up at Strongheart, and Joshua felt the man had some of the most piercing, lightest blue eyes he had seen. He wore a full, thick mustache waxed to points at the ends.
    The man with him was very slight and pale, and verysickly looking. He had an even longer mustache, but his, too, came to points at the drooping ends. Early into their conversation, he had a series of coughing fits, but seemed to recover well.
    It was he who spoke across the room to Strongheart, with a deep Southern drawl to his voice.
    â€œSuh,” he said, “since we all have enjoyed differing positions in the field of law enforcement, why don’t you join us for some light conversation?”
    Strongheart smiled and nodded and carried his plate and coffee cup to the table, along with his silverware. He sat down across from the sickly one.
    Smiling broadly, he asked, “How would you know I have anything to do with law enforcement, sir?”
    â€œGood question indeed, suh,” the slight man answered. “It is quite obvious you are the very noted half-breed Pinkerton agent who goes by the name of Strongheart. This gentleman is mah friend Bat Masterson, a lawman of some sterling repute, suh.”
    Strongheart nodded at Bat and extended his hand.
    The slight speaker then said, “I must say, both of you have fine reputations, not only as shootists, but as exceptional lawmen as well.”
    Strongheart said, “Are you a lawman, sir?”
    The sickly man replied, “Nah, I am a sporting man, but for many years practiced the art of dentistry.”
    Strongheart grinned, extending his hand again, saying, “Doc Holliday?”
    â€œIndeed, suh,” he replied. “So, knowing mah name,you know that I have become an expert of law enforcement operations by nature of the fact that I have been the subject of keen interest by so many lawmen over the years.”
    Strongheart chuckled.
    Doc Holliday looked over at Bat and said, “Besides killing a demon who stood over two meters tall, and a giant grizzly that was attempting to eat him, this young man, Bat, had a gunfight a few miles from here and killed quite a few men. However, my friend, his heroics resulted in enough bullet holes in his own skin that he could have well been used to water some of the beautiful flowers we have seen around this stately establishment.”
    Bat and Joshua chuckled.
    Doc added, “On top of that, he hunted down a gang of ne’er-do-wells who stole the wedding ring of a young beautiful widow and hunted each one down until he was able to secure her wedding ring and return it to her, for one reason only: He had given his word that he would.”
    Strongheart said, “Do you embarrass everybody that you first meet, Doc?”
    Doc Holliday replied, “No, suh, only the ones I have respect for.”
    He tipped his hat to Joshua.
    Joshua said, “Doc, I cannot believe you know that much about me, yet we have never met.”
    â€œI beg to differ,