The Rider of Phantom Canyon Read Free

to ten feet tall.
    Scared to death, he drew his old Schofield revolver and yelled, “Who’s there?”
    He saw the shadow farther down the trail, and it was moving fast through the trees. The size was enormous—wider than a grizzly bear, and much taller. His knees literally started shaking, and he fired a snapshot with the gun, knowing it was already out of range. The shot spooked the horses, and they bolted down the wagon road, merchandise in the back making louder noises banging in the wagon, which panicked them even more. His right hand was wrapped with one of the reins, which snapped around it like a bullwhip. Eyes bulging in panic, like his team of Morgans, Dub was dragged, with his right hand and arm being jerked up over his head. They rounded the next bend, and there was a cliff with a three-hundred-foot drop into a rocky canyon.
    Seeing his life flash before his eyes, Dub was dragged toward the precipice, the horses now at full gallop, and he screamed as the first pair of hapless steeds ran right off the cliff, with the other two following, and pushing as well. His hand came free and his heart pounded wildly as Dub lay there watching all four horses and his wagon propel into blackness, only to hear them all crashing on the rocks seconds later, three hundred feet below.
    He lay there at the edge of the darkened cliff, sidesheaving, heart pounding in his ears, and he thought the veins in the side of his neck might explode through the skin. His knees were shaking so badly, he couldn’t stand, and now his stomach erupted as he vomited right over the edge of the cliff. His stomach hurt, and Dub stood on rubbery knees, having to relieve his bladder again.
    Tears filled his eyes, and he got up, pacing back and forth near the cliff edge. The creature, the shadow, totally unnerved him. He had never been so frightened in his life.
    No wonder they call this Phantom Canyon!
he thought.
    On shaky legs, he stumbled forward through the darkness, his eyes darting all around. He kept looking off to his right, trying to see that giant form again and praying he would not. Dub walked rapidly, dreading what he might see as he went around each bend and praying someone would venture along, but knowing they would not. This was not a busy road by any stretch.
    Dub kept one leg stepping in front of another in what could only be described as a fast walk. All his senses were on alert, and tears stung his eyes as he moved. The tears were partially because of the sadness over losing his best wagon and team of horses, but also because of the wind whipping into his face as he walked rapidly southward, straining his eyes to identify every shadow, every shape.
    Dub rounded a bend into total shadow and justlistened. His heart pounded so hard it was all he could hear. Then he noticed he was breathing as if he had just run a race up the side of Pikes Peak. Fear gripped him like the claws of a cougar sinking into the flesh of a panicked prey. Then, in the moonlight, he saw the shadow back behind him, moving along the cliff. This was a smaller shadow, yet still very large. It was not the humongous beast he had seen, but something closer to the ground, yet silent.
    Dub turned, half running, half fast-walking down Phantom Canyon wagon road. With every bend he went around, there were new goblins and new ghosts to haunt him.
    The large tom mountain lion following Dub was indeed trailing him at a distance, but that was not unusual. This lion, like all his cousins and ancestors, quite often did trail people and animals down mountain roads and paths, especially after dark. It was just a natural predatory instinct, but like most big cats, this one would never attack a human unless it was cornered, though if the prey ran it might set off an attack. It did its best to stay out of sight of the occasional humans it saw or smelled. He also had winded not only the human, but his horses, and the large creature that passed by in the trees.
    The human