Demon's Pass by Ralph Compton

fool thing it was to try ‘n hang on, so they start throwin’ things off . . . heavy things.” He pointed to the wagon that had come by a moment before. “Folks like him take their wagons down the same trail a few days later just pickin’ up the leavin’s. They bring it all back an’ sell it to the town folks, or to the next wagon that comes through. I tell you, we got some of the most grandly furnished houses in the country right here in Independence ever since the first wagon started West.”
    â€œYes, I can see how that might be the case,” Parker said. He experienced a moment of sadness then, as he remembered how his own father had been forced to set off a heavy chest a few days before their wagon was attacked. The chest was a prized piece, brought over from England by Parker’s mother’s family. She had cried, but Parker’s father had explained that there was no way they could continue to haul it with them. Parker had no doubt but that right now, that piece was decorating the parlor of someone’s home somewhere in Kansas.
    Today there were six wagons drawn up on Independence Avenue. The teams had been hitched, the wagons loaded, and good-byes spoken. This was a hybrid party, consisting of three freight wagons heading West with trade goods, and three wagons of settlers. Wagon trains were generally referred to by the name of their leader, and this train was no exception. It was being called the Reynolds party, so named because Josh Reynolds had been elected as captain of the train.
    The three freight wagons had petitioned Reynolds to let them join their freight wagons to his train and he had agreed to let them do so, provided they didn’t slow him down. The owner of the three freight wagons was Ira Joyce. Clay Springer and Ira Joyce had started in the freighting business at the same time, and though there had always been a healthy competition between them, it had been good-spirited. The men were good friends and had even come to each other’s aid on occasions in the past.
    â€œIt’s too bad you didn’t get your outfit together in time to start out with us,” Ira said as Clay and Parker came down to tell the Reynolds party good-bye. “You could have gone with us as far as Denver.”
    Clay saw Parker looking at Sue Reynolds, the pretty, fifteen-year-old daughter of the captain of the wagon train. Sue was smiling flirtatiously back at Parker.
    â€œAh, it’s probably a good thing we weren’t ready,” Clay said. “Otherwise, my partner would get smitten with the young Reynolds girl, and I wouldn’t get any work out of him.”
    â€œWould get smitten?” Ira teased. “Looks to me like he already is. They’ve really been giving each other the eye.”
    â€œWhat?” Parker said. “No, that isn’t true. I mean, we were just . . . uh . . . that is . . .”
    â€œParker, you don’t have to explain anything to us,” Ira said. “We like the pretty ladies as much as you seem to.”
    â€œShe’s too young,” Parker said. “I was just being nice to her, that’s all.”
    Clay and Ira laughed at Parker’s obvious discomfort. At that moment a loud, piercing whistle caught their attention and when they looked toward the sound, they saw Sue Reynolds’s father, Josh, in the middle of the street. He was mounted on a fine chestnut horse, standing in the stirrups and looking up and down the line of wagons.
    â€œDrivers, to your wagons!” he called.
    There was a sudden flurry of commotion as those who were gathered around the wagons shouted their final good-byes, then backed out of the way. Within seconds the street was completely cleared of everyone and everything but the Reynolds wagons.
    There was a moment of anticipation, and during that moment Sue, who was sitting on the seat of the lead wagon, turned one more time to look back at Parker. With a dimpled smile,