Chapter 1 – Rider in the Storm

Marie watched from the window of the store as the tumbleweeds drifted past in the ever present Arizona wind. She sighed as if in mocking counterpoint to the gale outside. Nothing ever happened in Mimbres. Although beautiful, it was a stark beauty, sandy desert lying in sterile flatness between the knife-like peaks to the east and west. The hills that surrounded the town were garlanded in the deep, dark viridian of the evergreen forests, rising majestically to the chilly snow capped mountain tops that still claimed the lives of adventurous fools year on year.

At present though, there were no fools other than her and her husband in their dying business. The recently installed gas pumps were beginning to pull in some trade though, so perhaps the end wasn't inevitable.

She sighed again. Harry had gone down the street to talk to the bank manager and she was in charge for the afternoon. The wind, with its bitterly abrasive cargo of sand, kept most people inside, shielding their fragile eyes behind warm wooden walls and shuttered windows.

It wasn't just Mimbres though, it seemed as though the whole world was going through the storm with them. She glanced at the doom laden headline on the newspaper that lay next to her elbow.

"Hitler invades Poland".

How long would it be she wondered before America joined in? Britain and France seemed to be gearing up for war, and Europe was slowly spiralling into chaos. The Great War of the last generation might yet be merely a prelude to something far worse.

Looking back out through the window, she thought she saw something moving with some sort of purpose in the chaos of windblown dust and endlessly shifting sand, and hoped desperately that she was right. A customer, any customer, would be welcome today.

As she watched a shape began to gain form in the hazy brown world outside. A man on a horse appeared as a darker brown stain in the dust laden winds, and then as the form coalesced from the sands she recognised the shape of Old Joe, his wide brimmed hat tied firmly to his head, his heavy travel poncho wrapped tightly around his aged frame.

As the old man got slowly off his horse outside, Marie remembered herself and straightened her shop apron, patting her tightly bunned hair almost girlishly to make sure she looked her best for her first customer of the day.

Tying his horse in the lee of the shop so it was out of the wind, Joe made sure his mount was securely tied with its nose bag in place before he moved towards the shop door. The bell tinkled gently above the door and Joe walked into the store amidst a sudden swirl of storm, and then firmly evicted the storm to its proper place outside. Once the door was shut, he approached the counter. His movements were still sure and fluid despite his age, his blue eyes twinkled warmly, and a smile graced his wrinkled face as he greeted her, placing a pair of empty saddlebags on the counter.

"Afternoon, ma'am" he said, doffing his hat and holding it in his hands. "I take it I find you in good health?"

Marie smiled in genuine delight, she had always loved Joe. The man had been coming into the shop for decades, although he sometimes went for months without stopping in. The shop had always been a part of her life and once old enough, she had worked there with her parents. Eventually, once she and Harry had gotten married, her parents had passed the shop on to them, retiring almost gratefully it seemed: then she had got Joe all to herself. His olde worlde style and mannerisms always left her feeling slightly breathless, and despite being around eighty, his effortless charm always made her smile and wonder what he would've been like as a younger man.

"It's lovely to see you, Joe. You've made a dull and dusty afternoon seem suddenly bright."

The man dipped his head at the compliment and smiled widely. "May I presume on your hospitality, ma'am, I have a list of items I need?"

"Joe, please call me Marie."

"You are a married woman, ma'am, but I guess times are changin'. Marie it is then, although I still remember you as little Mazie." He smiled again, remembering the cute little girl in her pigtails.

"Are you busy? I noticed them new pump things out the front. Can I plug Humphrey into them?"

Marie moved around the counter to take the scrap of paper Joe held in his hand and smiled at him.

"I don't think your horse would appreciate a mouthful of gasoline Joe. Things are quiet, but we're expecting the post through in a moment with the mining wages, so we'll have Angus here shortly to guard the pay until the mine send someone down to pick him up. It's always nice to have some people around to talk to, particularly on a stormy day like today."

Marie bustled around the store for a few minutes gathering Joe's supplies. He lived a secluded life she knew, having an old style wooden cabin up in the mountains, way off the beaten track.

The store was one of the oldest buildings in Mimbres along with the bank, stables and saloon, and still bore bullet holes in some of the beams from the days when the place was a frontier town in the old west. It had been extended many times in the last sixty odd years, but the main part of the shop still had the rich smells of a small store ingrained into its timbers. Joe closed his eyes momentarily, remembering.

The quiet was interrupted abruptly by a fresh tinkle of the door bell, and a man in uniform carrying a strongbox came in, bringing a fresh batch of windswept dust devils with him that swirled maniacally around for a few moments until the door was shut, robbing them of life.

Marie poked her head round the corner of one of the wooden shelves and smiled.

"Hi Angus, just pop it down in the corner there out of the way. Do you want a cup of coffee while you're waiting?"

"That would be lovely, Marie, thank you. The dust out there is enough to kill a man, I swear."

"Joe, would you like a cup too?"

"That would be mighty fine, ma'am, er ... I mean Marie," he corrected swiftly as Marie gave him a cautionary look.

"Right then, okay, just let me sort this list out, the pot's going on the stove but I'll need to get a few things out of the cupboard."

Marie plonked the box of goods on the counter and looked out of the window as the wind howled around the building. She quickly totted up the total and then moved the box across to Joe who packed his goods carefully into his saddle bags.

"I think it's getting worse," she said. "Are you sure you're going to be alright to travel in this Joe?"

"I've survived worse, Marie. Once I get up into the woods I'll be fine, the trees will stop the dust in its tracks."

"Right, well before you go I'll make sure you have a nice warming drink in you. I'll just get some mugs. Angus: Cream, Sugar?"

Angus' reply was interrupted as the door to the store flew open for a third time. The bell seeming to alarm rather than welcome this time though as a man in a dusty Stetson jumped through the open door, a bandana across his mouth and pulled up over his nose. Marie watched in horror as, gun in each hand, he pulled both triggers, the simultaneous boom of the guns stunning her to immobility. One bullet punched Angus from his feet; dead before he hit the ground as the bullet sang through his brain pan. As he hit the timbers, the old man standing next to him was spun off his feet as the other bullet took him high in the shoulder, landing him painfully on his knees and gasping for breath as the pain and shock hit him.

With two potential opponents out of the way, the gunman made for the door, which was quickly slammed shut and bolted, and then grabbed Marie by the hair, backhanding her viciously across the mouth with a gloved hand, sending her staggering across the shop floor towards the old man.

Joe stood; pain etching grim lines of anger across the wrinkles of his face. He caught Marie as she stumbled towards him, and his good arm circled her shoulders protectively.

"If you hit her again you bastard, I'll kill you." Joe's words were delivered with a quiet certainty that stopped the masked man for a few seconds before he realised he was the one with the guns, and he stepped towards them, raising his weapons threateningly.

"You are in no position to threaten me old man. Now, both of you sit down and shut the hell up. Once my friend gets here, I will take the silver and leave you alone. Be good, and you'll survive. Give me any more grief and you'll end up like him." He waved one weapon at Angus whose blood was slowly staining the floorboards of the shop.

"Sit down!" he shouted as they hesitated, waving the guns at them menacingly once more.

Joe, helped by a terrified Marie, slumped to the floor by the counter. He stared balefully at the robber as the man changed the sign on the shop door to "Closed", before drawing the blinds. He tucked his guns into the holsters on his hips and peeked nervously through the blinds every now and again, occasionally casting a menacing glance back at the two survivors on the floor to make sure that they were obeying his warning.

Marie was now shaking in terror, tears rolling down her face and she leant into the bony form of Joe, who lifted his poncho onto his left shoulder and carefully stuffed a clean handkerchief into the wound in the crease of his arm, wincing as he did so.

"Do...does it hurt?" Marie's pale face looked at the wound.

"Aye, a little bit." Joe finished his rudimentary dressing and looked at Marie's upturned face.

"Don't worry ma'am we'll be fine. I've been in worse fixes than this before. All we have to do is sit it out."

"But you're hurt and old, and I'm shaking so much I can barely talk. Oh God, what are we going to do?"

The old man looked at her as she started shaking anew, the shock of the situation threatening to spill her over the edge into panic. She started to cry, great heaving sobs rattling her body as Joe looked at her helplessly.

"You'd better shut her up old man, or I'll shoot the both of you to keep her quiet." The robber's voice rasped across the room.

"What the hell do you want me to do you idiot?"

"I don't give a shit, you can sing her a song or tell her a story for all I care, just shut her up."

"Marie," said Joe softly, putting his good right arm around her shoulders and drawing her into a hug.

"Marie, come on, calm down now, we'll be fine."

She looked at him through tear drenched eyes, slowly gathering herself. A few seconds later she had herself mostly under control but was still shaking and pale. Joe watched as she drew on some source of inner strength, marveling as he always did at the core of steel that seemed to reside inside of all the women he'd ever known.

"Joe. Why aren't you scared?"

The old man looked mildly shocked at her words for a moment, shaken from his admiration, and then smiled gently at her, keeping his voice to a whisper that barely carried over the wind.

"Oh, I'm scared, I just don't intend to let that worthless piece of scum know it. If I'm honest, I don't particularly want to die yet; there are a few things I need to tidy up before I shuffle off this mortal coil and well I've got a few other things I'd like to do, and places I'd like to see.

"I guess I've had a lot of occasion in my life to be scared and maybe I've gotten used to it a little. Although the last few years have been pretty quiet up in the mountains, you never really forget the fear. While we're still alive though, there's always hope. I learnt a long time ago to trust in fate and look for a chance when it presents itself. We're still talking, so we still have a few chances left to us. We may yet surprise him.

"Marie, no man has ever harmed a woman while I've been around. I protected my mother when I was a young man, and while I still draw breath I will protect you now."

He gently reached over to hold her hand, and as she looked at him in surprise, he appeared to look unsure of himself briefly, but then nodded slightly, and seemed to come to some sort of decision. Taking a deep steadying breath he smiled at her and spoke again in a low tone, the words almost tumbling out as he released his burden.

"I have a past." He breathed deeply again and looked up at the beams in the ceiling, his eyes following the beams and tracing back into history.

"You know I used to be Sheriff of this town." She nodded, wide eyed, the robber all but forgotten in the flow of impassioned words of the old man who gently held her hand.

"I've been shot at before, but sometimes I was shot at by the law." he confessed.

Joe looked across at the gunman, who was still intent on the blowing sand and wind outside, more concerned with what he was waiting for than the old man and frightened woman who sat on the floor helpless and at his mercy.

"Perhaps it's finally time," he said, his whispered thought almost lost in the rage of the storm. "Maybe someone should know the truth. It looks like we might be here for a little while and maybe it'll take your mind off things some."

The old man smiled almost shyly, and as Marie looked deep into his solemn blue eyes, his gaze shifted once more to the bullet holes in the beams and back into his past...