The Denver Defense Brigade

7/31/2019 The Denver Defense Brigade

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A dime novel by Andrew Roberts

THE DENVER DEFENCE BRIGADE

Based on characters and settings

by Pinnacle Entertainment and

Great White Games



The year is 1879, and the history is not our own. After almost two

decades of bitter fighting, the American Civil War has ground to a

standstill. The Confederate States are still free. California has fallen into

the Pacific Ocean. Rail Barons fight bloody battles to decide whom the

victor will be in the race for a transcontinental railroad, while a

super-fuel called ghost rock advances technology by unpredictable

leaps and sometimes dangerous bounds. The Sioux have retaken the

Dakotas and the Coyote Confederation dances the Ghost Dance on the

High Plains. Some even say the dead walk among us.

In the Disputed Territory of Colorado, an unknown party is spreadingdiscord amongst the Cheyenne people, their eyes set on the gold convoys

that travel from the Rockies to Denver…



“Keep moving!” The coachman hissed as the stagecoach raced through the path that

weaved through the Rocky Mountains, “I don’t like this place.”

“Frank, stop getting paranoid.” The driver replied with his hands firmly on the reins, “It’s a

scenic route and we’re not far from Idaho Springs. We can change horses there.”

Frank’s hands were gripped tightly on his shotgun. “I don’t care if it’s scenic.” He said with

increasing agitation, “I don’t like it. It makes me nervous”

“What’s the matter? Are you afraid that a Catamount’s gonna get yer?”

“No, I don’t believe that hocus-pocus shit. I’m worried ‘cause the last two shipments never

made it to Denver, now that the Great Spirit is spooking them Cheyenne folks.”

Inside the coach, four men were seated in the cabin, nervously watching the two boxes of

gold underneath the seats. Hearing the discussions, they attempted to load the revolversand repeaters balanced on their laps, hands trembling like leaves.

As the stagecoach continued along the road, Frank was becoming almost hysterical as he

noticed a set of falling rocks. He kept the shotgun prepared. At that moment, an arrow

pierced the side of the coach. He turned and fired both barrels in the direction it came

from. War cries echoed through the mountains as Cheyenne riders emerged from behind

the rocks and pursued the wagon.

“It’s the Injuns!” One of the men inside shouted. He leaned out of the window with his

revolver and fired wildly at their pursuers. It was no use. His hands were shaking so rapidly

that his bullets simply flew into the distance. An arrow stuck him in the chest and he fell out

of the stagecoach. At the same time, the driver lashed the horses to run faster, only to be

hit by another arrow. Frank cowered in fear and broke open the shotgun. Another

Cheyenne brave rode parallel to the coach, tomahawk in hand. Seeing him, Frank

accidentally dropped the two shells he was trying to load into the gun. In desperation, he

threw the gun in the direction of the brave before jumping onto the horses and detaching

the yoke from the coach. While he fumbled with the yoke, the brave threw the tomahawk

into his back.

While the mortally wounded Frank escaped on one of the horses, the out of control

stagecoach ploughed into the mountainside. One of the other guards tried to fire on the

Cheyenne braves as they dismounted, but was immediately killed by another arrow. The

two remaining men threw their weapons out of the stagecoach and left with their hands

raised. Two of the braves advanced, striking them down with their tomahawks and

scalping them while the others recovered the gold boxes from the coach.

“The Great Spirit will be pleased.” One of the men said as they examined the contents of

the chests, “And thanks to his guidance, we can drive the pale-faced ones from Colorado.”



Frank had not been pursued as he rode away from the scene of the robbery. As his vision

was becoming more clouded, he atempted to spur his horse towards Idaho Springs. It was

relatively quiet in the small town, but residents were still wandering in the streets. All eyes

turned to face Frank as the horse carried him to the square. He slumped and fell from the

saddle. Several passersby ran towards him, including the town marshall.

“The gold.” Frank struggled to say as his breathing became heavier, “They took…”

The marshall checked the newcomer’s heartbeat. “He’s dead.” He announced solemnly

before removing the tomahawk from the man’s back. Two of the marshall’s deputies ran

over to the scene. He turned and nodded at them. They immediately ran back to the

marshall’s office and prepared the horses. The marshall led them down the path back to

the scene of the attack.

The posse arrived to a sorrowful sight. All that remained was the wrecked stagecoach. The

other horses had not been spotted on the trail, the gold chests had been taken, and all that

remained were the bodies of the men in the coach.

“Find anything?” The marshall asked.

“Ain’t no survivors here marshall!” One of the deputies called, “There’s been three

scalpings though!”

“It looks like they came from mines!” The second deputy added.

“Then it was an Indian attack.” The marshall stated bluntly, “They probably took the

horses. But why do they want gold? The Cheyenne ‘round these parts haven’t been so

interested in it before.”

The two deputies shrugged as they rode back to town.

“What happens now Marshal?” they asked.

The marshall sighed. “This is outside my jurisdiction.” He explained, “All I can do is write to

the County Sheriff in Denver and report. Other than that, we just sit on our asses until they

threaten the town.”

The trio returned to Idaho Springs. As the marshall prepared to write his letter, the

deputies strolled off to the saloon. Although political concerns and devoted patriotism were

relatively low in Idaho Springs and Colorado in general, cynicism and defeatism were high.

The deputies knew that whatever got sent to Denver wouldn’t have any effect. After all,

there weren’t enough people in Idaho Springs willing to join a posse, and there was

certainly not going to be any military intervention from the respective governments in the

United States or the Confederate States due to the ters of the ceasefire. Not even the

authorities in Denver would intervene, as they would be tending to the Loyalty Rallies and

Freedom Marches conducted by the slightly more patriotic residents. Even then, it wasn’tlikely that they’d be killing each other, but they didn’t want to take any chances, especially

when they were hearing about the partisan violence in Kansas.



A day later, Denver was business as usual. Caleb Hornsby, the Mayor of Denver and de

facto territorial governor of Colorado, was entering the council chamber to discuss the

letter he had received from Idaho Springs. Seated around the conference table were the

other members of the city council: Sitting closest to the head of the table was the Denver

County Sheriff Bob Wells. He was a rugged fellow, once a rough and ready lawman, but

he was ready to give up his post and collect his pension.

Seated opposite to Wells was a balding, slightly obese man wearing a black suit. This was

Philip Shaw, the circuit judge with jurisdiction over all the towns in Denver County. While

he had a reputation for upholding the law fairly and honestly, he seemed to be more

ruthless since the Cheyenne crisis had began.

Facing each other on the next seats down were Everett Wright and Chester Morgan, the

provisional Union and Confederate territorial governors respectively. Although Mayor

Hornsby ostensibly answered to their authority, they were repeatedly cancelling each

other’s efforts out, and that left Hornsby in charge.

Finally, at the foot of the table was a slick looking man in a suit, along with an elegantly

dressed woman. The man was Thomas Barker, the proprietor of Barker Minerals and

Excavations, the company which ran the mines the Cheyenne were interested in. The

woman was Sylvia Reed, an executive for the Denver Pacific railroad company who had

also styled herself as a public relations officer for the council.

“Good afternoon everybody.” Hornsby said as he sat down, “As you are aware, the city is

on the verge of an economic crisis due to growing issue with gold transportation. In the

past two weeks, three gold shipments from Barker’s mine in the Rockies have been

ambushed by Cheyenne braves. We have reason to believe that an unknown individual is

impersonating a Cheyenne deity and inciting them into an uprising.”

“I keep telling you Barker!” Wells interrupted, “You need more men to ride with t he

shipments!”

“I don’t have the men to spare!” Barker replied, “Anyone with grit stays at the mine in case

the Cheyenne stage an attack there. And they’re hard to come by in these parts. Now the

tenderfoots are giving me their notice. I’m running out of men and those who remain are

wanting more pay. If those folks back East weren’t discussing the Mason Dixon line’s

place in the world, I could get some military support!”

“As you may or may not know,” Morgan stated, “President Eric Michele is still carrying out

diplomatic negotiations with Grant in Washington. Due to the terms of the truce, the

Confederate Government will not deploy any troops in Colorado.”

“You’re just worried that Santa Anna will try and stage some futile invasion again!” Barker

snapped.

“Well let that crazy old man invade!” Wright shouted as he banged his fist on the table,

“After all, you deserve it after Jefferson Davis got the British to invade Detroit!”

“Davis is dead now and Michele is trying to talk them down!” Morgan shouted back.



“Oh yeah? And why is a War Secretary doing peace talks?”

“Enough!” Hornsby shouted, “If you ain’t gonna deploy troops in Colorado, what can I do to

resolve the Cheyenne crisis?”

“I have an idea.” Wells said calmly, “We could set up our own legion, independant from the

Confederate and Union armies. They will be able to patrol the mountain roads between themine and Idaho Springs, and keep an eye out for this deity. Other than that, there will not

be any reprisals against the Cheyenne. We don’t want an all-out war.”

“Once this deity shows his sacred face, I’ll give him a hemp necktie.” Shaw promised.

“I can try and spread the word along my railroad.” Sylvia added.

“So it’s settled then.” Hornsby proclaimed, “Miss Reed; you start sending out adverts as far

as you can and bring people in. Mr Wells; you start assessing suitability. In a few days

time, I’ll want a Denver Defence Brigade up and running. This meeting is adjourned.”

Three days later, Wells had travelled to Idaho Springs where he had set up a crude

recruitment office in the saloon. Gunslingers had come to Denver from all around to join

the Brigade, and had been directed to Idaho Springs. Most of these people were seasoned

folks from both sides of the Mason-Dixon Line, even California and Deseret, but they only

really cared about money, rather than politics. To Wells, that was almost perfect. He didn’t

want anybody with political concerns in the Brigade out of fear of infighting. Not to mentionthat he didn’t want people connected with partisans from Kansas. As for the Agency or the

Texas Rangers; forget it. Even if they came in with burn notices, he wouldn’t recruit them.

There wouldn’t be any uniforms for the Legion, and no service weapons. If the provisional

governments decided to class the Brigade as a military unit, it could be disbanded. If the

members wore plain clothes and carried anything they were comfortable with for killing, the

Brigade was more or less a posse.

One evening, Wells had been handling recruitments and was preparing to retire for the

day. The saloon was empty and he was gathering his papers when he noticed a large

shadow at the entrance. Four men entered the saloon: A serious-looking man with awalking stick dressed in a fancy suit and bowler hat; A second well-dressed man with a

black duster coat and Stetson over his suit; A ratty Chinese thug; and an obese, mean

Mexican. Both the Mexican and the man in the duster had scary-looking Gatling rifles

slung over their shoulders.

“Good evening Sheriff.” The man in the bowler hat said menacingly.

“Sorry folks,” Wells replied, “If you want to join the Brigade, come back tomorrow.”

“I’m not applying. I’m bringing you a message: The Brigade is to be disbanded.”

“If you’re bringing that message, I have to know who you sent it for.”



“I’m afraid you’re not entitled to that information. I’ll tell you again: Disband the Brigade.”

Wells stood up to face the man. His hand was itching for his Colt Peacemaker. “That order

should come from Hornsby and no-one else!” he shouted, “Who the Hell are you supposed

to be?”

“My name is Charles Fordham.” The man in bowler said, “And I’ll have to resort to theconsequence of non-compliance.”

The Mexican and the Chinese man grabbed Wells and pinned him to the floor. Fordham

stood over him and raised the walking stick, bringing it down on his head. Wells continued

to struggle as he was struck again repeatedly while the two thugs looked in with devilish

glee. His sight was growing darker. Fordham raised the stick again, ready to deliver the

finishing blow. There was a sudden crack as a bullwhip snatched the stick out of his hand.

All heads turned to the entrance. A woman, also wearing a black duster and Stetson, had

entered the saloon, her face concealed by a bandana. She was aiming a Colt Peacemaker

at the group.

“What sick mind would strike an ailin’, defenceless old man?” She asked.

The man in black raised his Gatling rifle. The masked woman turned and fired a shot with

her Peacemaker. The man fell back as the bullet entered his shoulder, firing his gun into

the air. The Mexican dived behind the bar while the Chinese man flipped the table and

crouched behind it. Fordham drew a Webley Bulldog and fired two shots in rapid

succession, taking advantage of the revolver’s stopping power. The masked woman dived

out of the way as the man in black recovered and fired at her with the Gatling rifle. At the

same time, the Mexican tossed his own Gatling rifle to the Chinese man, drawing his ownColt Peacemaker.

As the masked woman crawled up towards the mezzanine hall to avoid the wild shooting,

she noticed a hanging light above the Chinese man. She fired another shot, sending the

fixture crashing down on the thug’s head. Fordham and the man in black pursued her up

the stairs. The woman fired another shot, hitting the man in black in the chest and sending

him tumbling back down. As she pulled back the hammer on her Peacemaker to ready

another round, Fordham swung at her with the cane. She dodged it and tacked him,

sending them both through the railing and back to the ground floor. Fordham managed to

break free and fled from the saloon while the Mexican raised his Peacemaker at the

woman. He pulled the trigger, but the chamber was empty. Wells raised his own

Peacemaker and fired a single shot through his head. The Mexican slumped down behind

the bar. The masked woman ran over to the sheriff.

“Thank you,” Wells said weakly, “Who are you?”

The woman removed her bandana to reveal the face of the sheriff’s beautiful daughter,

Adeline Wells.

“Are you all right father?” she asked.



“It’s too late for me.” Wells replied, “My time is almost up. Listen, I want you take charge of

the Denver Defence Brigade. You must stop the Cheyenne raids, but don’t be brutal. We

want to find this Great Spirit who’s rilin’ them. Goodbye my sweetheart.”

Adeline watched as her father drew his last breath. She felt great sadness, but she kept

the pain inside. She simply closed his eyes, secured her bandana, picked up one of the

Gatling rifles and left, completely emotionless.

One day later, Adeline was meeting with the Brigade at an abandoned mission in the

Rockies, accompanied by Ace, her black stallion. At least thirty people were present, and

were a colourful variety of folks. Each person was wearing an armband with the seal of

Colorado. As she dismounted, she felt a hand being placed on her shoulder. She turned to

see a grizzled man in his fifties smiling gently. She immediately recognised him as Hutch

Scanlon, a legendary gunslinger who educated her in the ways of the West.

“If it ain’t the famous Black Panther.” He said jokingly, “It’s good to see you again.”

“I never knew you were back in town Scanlon.” Adeline replied, “Are you joining the

Brigade too?”

“You know it. I’m sorry about what happened to your father. But you must be strong.

Avenging his death won’t bring him back.”

“I’m not seeking any kind of vendetta while I’m in charge of the Denver Defence Brigade.”

“Good. I taught you well. I’m here now, and will willingly lead the public side of theBrigade.”

“Thanks Hutch. If Black River know I’m in Colorado, they’ll probably send the Wichita

Witches after me.”

Scanlon escorted Adeline into the mission. “I have set up a special command squad to

coordinate the Brigade throughout the county.” He explained, indicating to a Chinese man

wearing a traditional martial arts uniform, who stood up and shook hands with Adeline.

“My name is Yun Pan. I’m a master of the Wing Chun school.” He said.

“What kind of attacks does that specialise in?” Adeline queried.

“It focuses on flurries of powerful blows. It can be effective in both offence and defence.”

“Excellent. A martial artist like you will be a valuable asset. Especially when we check in

our guns.”

Behind Yun Pan was a man dressed in furs carrying a long-barreled rifle, along with a

somewhat unstable-looking individual dressed in a typical blacksmith’s attire and carrying

a large backpack.



“Rounding out our notables we have Emmett Best and Dr Ulysses ‘Gadget’ Floyd.”

Scanlon explained.

Adeline nodded as she shook their hands. She viewed Emmett’s rifle.

“It’s a Springfield.” Emmett told her before she could ask about it.

“You still use a cap and ball gun?” She inquired.

“Sure.” He replied, “It takes longer to reload and it needs powder, but it never let me down

yet. Besides, I’m more inclined to preserve my shots with a cap and ball shootin’ iron. Not

to mention that it can even make one of those Mojave Rattlers run for its mama.”

Adeline turned to Floyd, handing him the Gatling rifle. “What can you tell me about this

beast?” she asked.

Floyd looked at the gun with awe. “Well, it’s a Smith and Robards .45 Gatling rifle.” He

identified professionally without hesitation, “These beauties are only available on specialorder from their factory in Salt Lake City, and they cost $1200 a piece. Personally, I tend to

stick with the pistol models or the flamethrower of my own design.” He indicated to his

backpack and the Gatling pistol in his holster. “Hell, the Agency up North buys hundreds of

these as service weapons.”

“Well, the people who killed my father were carrying two of the big guns.” Adeline replied,

“And they tried to have the Brigade disbanded.”

“That’s probably where the stolen gold is going.” Scanlon commented.

Adeline nodded. “When does the next shipment head out?” she asked.

“Tomorrow.”

Adeline stood at the podium while her new inner circle beckoned the other member of the

Brigade to enter.

“OK people,” she addressed, “The next gold caravan is making its way to Denver

tomorrow. I want people on interchangable shifts patrolling the mountains. You have all

been provided with whistles. Use them if you sight any Cheyenne riders. Try to use

minimum force as possible: we want this Great Spirit alive. Is everyone ready?”

The recruits cheered.

“Now, head out and be prepared! If you need anything to do, talk to me or one of the other

bosses. I want regular reports.”





“Did you catch the retreating Indians?” Emmett asked.

“I’m afraid not. There was an ambush. Some folks with rifles on the cliff. They also had

dynamite, with which they tried to bury me alive in a landslide.”

“I thought those Indians had some kind of vow about Old Ways.” Floyd commented, “They

could be members of that ‘Order of the Raven’ I’ve been hearing about.”

“So, the Indians who adopt manufactured technology are seen as rogue by the elders in

the Sioux Nation.” Emmett responded.

“I noticed some of the attackers on the cliffs.” Adeline explained, “They didn’t look like

Indians. There may be collaborators. Something tells me that Fordham is involved in this.”

“Fordham?” Scanlon asked. Before Adeline could mention anything, a noise was heard.

They looked to see someone taking off on a horse. Adeline quickly pursued him on Ace,

dismounting the escapee with her bullwhip. She grabbed him.

“Who are you working for?” She asked. The deserter said nothing. “Why are you trying to

flee?”

The man prepared to speak, only to be hit in the back by another arrow. Scanlon rode over

to the scene.

“It looks like we had a spy.” She told her mentor.

“We’d better get everyone checked out.” He replied. They slowly rode back to the mission.

“Why did you originally sign up with Black River anyway?” Scanlon asked.

“It was the only work around. Besides, Mina Devlin is known for trying to hire more

women.” Adeline responded.

“I’m surprised you took the job. I never trusted that woman. She’s evil to the core, just like

her husband.”

“Miles Devlin?”

“Yeah, until Tennessee Central bumped him off. That was a mistake.”

“Well, I also felt that Black River had an edge. Because Union Blue was laying track in

Kansas, they didn’t have military support. Black River had the Wichita Witches on their

payroll.”

“You’ve got grit, kid, but you ain’t in Kansas anymore.”

“Yes, but if we don’t nail this Great Spirit, I might as well be. Black River have still got a

bounty on my head.”



Meanwhile, somewhere deep within the Rockies, Chief Soaring Eagle was leading his tribe

to a hidden shrine in the caverns. A secret door formed in the rocks opened, filling the

tunnel with smoke. The smoke enveloped a cowled figure, prompting everyone to stand to

attention. This figure was regarded as the Great Spirit.

“Our crusade against the white man will succeed.” He proclaimed with a booming voice,

“The Denver Defence Brigade may have protected the last gold caravan, but a willing

subject had infiltrated the group. Although he was discovered and silenced, I have

determined from the area he was stopped that the Brigade is operating out of an old

mission in the vicinity. We plan our attack for tomorrow.”

He strode back into the secret chamber. A group of outlaws were waiting there, led by the

feared Clifton ‘Six-gun’ Walker .

“You will take part in the attack. Scout out the mission. Find the entrances. Try and bomb

it. We can trap them in a bottleneck.” He ordered.

“What about the braves who were captured?” Walker asked.

“They will be killed. We don’t want to risk them talking.”

Walker nodded and led his men out of a back entrance.

On the day that followed, Scanlon was attending the council meeting in Denver,accompanied by the new sheriff. Hornsby was awaiting his arrival with eagerness.

“Mr Scanlon,” he said, “I owe you many congratulations. Thanks to your leadership of the

Denver Defence Brigade, the county is safe. Best of all, with the shipments that are

coming in, we are able to fund your activities.”

The other council members applauded.

“I believe that you captured five Cheyenne yesterday.” Barker commented.

“That is correct.” Scanlon replied, “But I must inform you all that there may has been aleak. We caught a spy at our outpost, but he was killed before he could be questioned. It is

my firm belief that the Great Spirit’s associates may have infilitrated the council.”

“This is most unsettling Scanlon.” Judge Shaw remarked, “How can you prove it?”

“I can prove it with last night’s incident, and the assassination of Bob Wells.” Scanlon

answered.

“Bullshit.” Barker snapped, “How can they be connected? I want evidence of a

connection.”

“Silence!” Hornsby yelled, “For now, we must assume that there is no deceit in the council

until further evidence surfaces. This meeting is adjourned.”



As Scanlon was leaving, he was stopped by Hornsby.

“Scanlon,” he asked, “Do you truly believe that there is a traitor in the council?”

“The evidence I’ve already acquired is circumstantial, but nonetheless compelling.”

Scanlon replied.

“I am already aware of that fact.” Hornsby told him, “I have been suspicious of the other

council members for some time now. I have already hired Pinkertons to investigate them.”

Scanlon said nothing, simply tipping his hat and leaving.

Meanwhile, Walker and his gang had entered the mission. They had boarded up the doors

from the outside, with the exception of the double doors at the front. Two of the outlaws

had proceeded into the cellar, where they were stacking up barrels of gunpowder. One of

them was making a trail to the outer entrance while the other placed a candle on theground.

“Good.” Walker commented, “Now let’s get out of here. I’ve gotta set in motion a backup

plan.”

As night fell, most of the Defence Brigade had returned to the mission. Adeline was

travelling up the path when she noticed the shadows behind the rocks. The other

commanders were riding alongside her. They checked the area, only to find nothing.“The Cheyenne might know where we are.” She told her companions “We should hurry.”

Back at the mansion, Scanlon was conducting a register before hearing the day’s reports.

Before he could begin, he heard a shout from one of the men. He turned to see two of the

men drag a dead member from underneath one of the pews.

“Looks like he’s been choked.” The man observed.

“Search the mission.” Scanlon ordered. The pair nodded and descended the steps into the

basement. They discovered the powder kegs, along with the candle, which was now tiltingdangerously and unable to be safely extinguished.

“Oh, shit…” One of the mercenaries said in horror. They ran back upstairs.

“We’ve been breached!” They shouted, “Someone’s set up powder kegs in the basement!”

“Everyone out!” Scanlon bellowed. The gunslingers quickly piled towards the double doors.

The Cheyenne braves watched as the double doors opened. They quickly sprang into

action. Tomahawks, spears and arrows flew out from the shadows and hit several of the

Brigade members. Scanlon herded them back inside, providing them with covering fire.

“Try the other doors!” he ordered.



“They won’t open!” One the Brigade members shouted back.

“We’re fucked!” Another one said in despair. By this time, the candle in the basement had

melted, and had ignited the gunpowder trail.

Adeline and her companions had made it to the mission via a back route.They noticed that

the side doors were boarded up. She ran down and knocked.

“Scanlon! Are you in there?” She asked.

“Adeline! Get away from here! This place is gonna blow!” Scanlon replied.

Adeline turned to Floyd. “Gimme that!” she demanded, snatching his Gatling pistol and

aiming it at the door. “Stand back!” she ordered, pulling the trigger. The Gatling pistol

sputtered to life, making short work of the planks boarding up the door. Yun Pan charged

in and kicked the door down, prompting everyone trapped inside the mission to flee. The

wounded troopers were hauled out of the building. Even when moving casualties, it

seemed like the group were moving faster than cheetahs at full speed, escaping to a safe

distance mere seconds before the powder kegs detonated and levelled the mission.

In no less than ten minutes, the Brigade had retreated into a set of caverns near the

mansion. Most of the troopers were breathing heavy sighs of relief. Cigar smoke filled the

cave, while many were taking large swigs from hip flasks. Adeline and Scanlon wandered

through the cave, observing those wounded in the attack having their injuries treated. Yun

Pan had composed a herbal salve, while Emmett was administering maggot therapy to

open wounds. Ace, and the other horses were grazing outside.

“I want a head count of everyone here.” Adeline requested.

“I already did that.” Scanlon reported, “Everyone’s here except Bryant’s squad. They’re

doing the night patrol.”

“Well, they’d better be back by morning. Another gold shipment leaves the mine

tomorrow.”

Scanlon pulled out his own hip flask and swigged from it. He offered to Adeline. She

turned it down, laying out her bedroll and lying back, pulling the Stetson over her eyes.

Scanlon watched as she descended into sleep. He knew that they could hide in the caves,

as long as the Cheyenne didn’t recover them. Preparing to get to sleep, he noticed Floyd

leaving.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I gotta get back to my workshop in Denver.” Floyd replied, “My horse needs medical care

and I need to bring in a special mountain vehicle.”

“Be careful.” Scanlon warned, “They might still be searching.”

Floyd nodded as he left, disappearing into the night.



Elsewhere, the Great Spirit was oonce again addressing the Cheyenne tribe.

“You have all failed me.” He boomed sternly, “A search of the mission has failed to unearth

any bodies. This can only mean that the Brigade escaped.”

“You promised that the back entrances would be sealed.” Soaring Eagle argued, “They

may have escaped through the back door.”

“You cannot justify that.” The Great Spirit replied, “You must know your place as chieftain.”

“Maybe it was a decoy. I’d normally receive this advice from Falling Star.”

“Silence! I shall not tell you again! I told you to banish your shaman because she was

wrong! There is another gold shipment coming out, and I want it!”

The door to the Spirit’s chamber closed. He turned to Walker and his gang.

“You must find a new way to stop the Brigade.” He said gravely, “I fear that a counter -attack may be imminent.”

“I have an idea already.” Walker piped enthusiastically, “This could get the shipment and

discredit the Defence Brigade.”

Dawn was breaking over the Rockies, and Adeline was searching for the missing patrol

with Yun Pan and Emmett, along with two bloodhounds. The sound of gunfire rang out,followed by a whistling.

“It’s the signal!” Adeline yelled, spurring Ace towards the source of the sound. As the trio

rode on, they spotted the stagecoach with the gold shipment. The driver and the

coachmen were both wearing armbands which signified them as members of the Brigade.

They brought the stage to a halt.

“Identify yourselves!” Adeline demanded.

“Leon Castle and Willie Grange!” The coachman responded, “The Cheyenne attacked the

stage up the road. We fought them off but the coach guards were killed, so we took over.”

“Where’s Bryant?”

“He was killed in the attack.”

The driver lashed the horses and moved the stage on. Adeline watched as they left. One

of the bloodhounds was digging near some foliage and began barking. Adeline rode over

to the area where they were. A shallow grave had been uncovered, revealing the members

of the Brigade. All the bodies had slit throats. Two of them were missing their armbands.

“Imposters!” Adeline shouted, spurring Ace after the stagecoach, “Get after them!”



The two bandits rolled along the mountain path at a rapid pace to a secret rendezvous

point. Adeline was quickly catching up with them. The coachman raised the Winchester

repeater and fired. Adeline drew her Colt Peacemaker and fired a single shot. The

coachman’s body fell from its seat and tumbled across the dirt. Adeline raced closer to the

stage and leapt from Ace’s saddle onto the back of the coach, scrambling onto the top. As

she climbed, Walker leaned out of the compartment with a Colt Thunderer. With her freehand, Adeline reached for her whip and lashed, snatching the gun out of Walker’s hand

before running to the driver. Grabbing the bandit, she delivered several punches to his

stomach and face, throwing him off the coach and taking the reins. Walker attempted to

shimmy to the top of the carriage, wielding a large Bowie knife. A loud shot rang out, and a

musket shot flew through Walker’s hand. He screamed and dropped the knife. At this time,

Yun Pan had dismounted his horse and was literally running after the stage. With a mighty

leap, almost flying, he landed on top of the coach and delivered a kick to Walker’s torso.

The cruel bandit toppled off the back of the coach. Emmett dismounted and grabbed him.

More shots rang out. Adeline and Yun Pan turned to see Walker’s gang chasing the stageon horseback.

“Take the reins!” Adeline yelled, drawing her Peacemaker, “If Floyd is in some Ghost

Rock-induced dementia, there will be Hell to pay.”

As soon as the words left Adeline’s mouth, the devilish howl of burning Ghost Rock

resonated through the mountains, accompanied by the sound of an engine. Floyd was

slowly coming up behind the bandits on a two-wheeled contraption powered by steam.

Overtaking them, he took a hand-held device attached to his back and aimed it at the

outlaws. The device spewed a great jet of flame that sent the outlaw’s horses bucking. Asthey floundered, Yun Pan was able to drive the stage away to a safe distance.

Later, the stage arrived in Denver, but Adeline had secretly slipped away. The

townspeople applauded as Yun Pan drove through the streets towards the city hall.

Scanlon was standing outside a saloon, smoking a cigar and smiling as the gold chest was

unloaded. Adeline crept up behind him.

“Outlaws ambushed Bryant’s patrol and attempted to pass off as Brigade troopers.” She

reported, “We captured their leader and will try and question him before we turn him over.”

“Good strategy.” Scanlon replied, “I don’t trust the judge. He hanged those five braves we

captured without questioning them.”

“Christ. That will anger the Cheyenne. What was he thinking?”

“Don’t worry, I’m working on it. ‘Ol Caleb is bringing in the Pinkertons.”

“Are you crazy? They’ll shut us down!” Adeline hissed.

“Worry about it later. Keep that bandit detained for as long as possible. I’ve got a councilmeeting to attend.”



The atmosphere was tense as Scanlon entered the council chamber. Although Hornsby

was proud to see him, Baker and Shaw were highly indignant. Reed was slouching back in

her chair looking oblivious, but Scanlon immediately noticed her look of indifference

concealing an evil eye set on him.

“Scanlon!” Baker snapped, “What is your explanation for using the Defence Brigade to

bring in the stage? What happened to my men?”

“Members of the Council.” Scanlon addressed, “I have received a report from one of the

Brigade’s field commanders that today’s shipment was not attacked by a Cheyenne war

party, but a gang of outlaws. The most likely suspects are Clifton Walker’s gang, and could

possibly be in league with the Great Spirit. They killed Baker’s men while posing as

members of the Brigade by wearing armbands stolen from a patrol we lost contact with.”

“Did you take any prisoners?” Shaw asked.

“Any prisoners who were taken will be delivered in due time.” Scanlon answered.

“That is not your job.” Shaw warned, “Your duty is to protect the county. Any prisoners

must be delivered to the County Sheriff immediately. They are my responsibility. I’ll ask

again; How do you know it’s Walker and do you have any prisoners?”

“At the current moment of time, I do not possess answers to those requests.”

“Cat got your tongue?” Baker asked, “If you truly don’t answer these questions, then it’s

difficult to prove your case isn’t it? For all we know, it was the Brigade responsible for the

attack.”

“Mr Baker has a point.” Shaw commented, “If you do not answer my queries, then I have

no choice but to hold the Denver Defence Brigade responsible for the incident.”

Scanlon felt the sweat dripping down his forehead. He knew he couldn’t lie, but if he told

the truth, he would lose a valuable lead. He turned to face Hornsby. He shook his head.

They both knew that the mayor couldn’t defend the brigade, and lying would cause a

scandal. He sighed deeply.

“Walker was captured during the attack. He is currently being detained at our temporary

headquarters.” He admitted.

“Then you must hand him to me for a trial.” Shaw demanded.

“And what are going to do? Hang him there and then?” Scanlon replied angrily, “You

hanged the last group of prisoners on the spot before I could learn anything! For all I know,

you could be involved in this. I’d never taken you as a hanging judge. That’s not your

reputation.”

“You had better find some way to prove that or I’ll hold you in contempt!” Shaw bellowed.

“Hold it!” Reed interrupted, “Mr Scanlon may not be able to prove it, but I believe that oneof my people witnessed him conversing with a certain ‘Black Panther’ the pr evious day. Is

that so?”



“What’s that got to do with anything?” Scanlon asked.

“As you know, the Denver Pacific Line does not have anything to do with her business.”

Reed stated, “But I’m sure that Black River might be interested. After all, it was them who

hired her. It was them she betrayed. It was Mina Devlin who put a price on her head.”

“I can hand over Walker to the city’s custody.” Scanlon replied, “Any allegations of whoworks for me are not true.”

“I’m glad you can be swayed.” Baker added slyly.

Scanlon collapsed back into his chair. He was beaten. He knew that they were all involved,

but they had him on a leash now. He couldn’t expose them without endangering the

Brigade’s future. There was nothing more he could do.

Everett Wright took the floor. “I would like to repor t that a Union Blue train heading into

Denver was robbed on the Colorado-Kansas border. Cifton Walker’s gang took the credit

for this, but we do not know their reasons, as no cargo of value was being transported.”

Scanlon brushed the report off and cut in again. “In light of the information presented by

Baker and Shaw, I would like to tender my resignation.”

The room fell silent as he stood up and left the chamber.

Later, Scanlon was riding to the new hideout. One of the troopers left handed him a note:

Hardwood House, Walker is there.

He nodded and pocketed the note.

Hardwood House was a small log cabin in the mountains that was used as a trading post

by Ike Hardwood, a mountain man from the days when the USA was still whole. Floyd had

taken it over and was using it as a workshop. On the approach to the cabin, Scanlon saw

Ace grazing outside, along with Floyd’s mountain vehicle. The white vapour of Ghost Rock

billowed from the house’s chimney. Scanlon entered to see Floyd sitting in a chair with anunusual headset attached to a large steam-powered machine. An unconscious Walker

was strapped down to a table with wires running from his head into the machine. Adeline

was sitting there, watching.

“What is that…thing?” Scanlon asked.

“It’s Ulysses Floyd’s Marvellous Mind-Reading Machine!” Floyd replied enthusiastically, “It

helps me interrogate this son of a bitch.”

“What have you found out?”



“So far, we have confirmed that Walker is involved with this Great Spirit figure.” Adeline

reported, “But we haven’t found any clues relating to his identity.”

“Well, you’ll have to cut that session short.” Scanlon said dejectedly, “Shaw is demanding

that we hand Walker over. He’ll probably hang him like the others we captured.”

Floyd began to close the valves on his machine. It began to emit an unnerving whistle.

“Oh fuck!” he yelled, “It’s malfunctioning! Everyone out!”

“Unhook him!” Adeline commanded as she fled out of the building with Scanlon. As Floyd

began to pull Walker out of the machine, the valves burst and howled. Adeline and

Scanlon turned to see the cabin explode violently, knocking them both off their feet and

sending Ace into a frenzy. Adeline went over and grabbed his reins, attempitng to calm

him down.

“Christ.” Scanlon fumed, “Hadn’t he tested this thing before?”

“No. That was a prototype.”

Neither Adeline nor Scanlon were emotional about Floyd’s death. After all, they were too

seasoned to be shaken by a death. However, Scanlon’s heavy heart had remained from

the meeting. He sat down next to Adeline and swigged from a hip flask.

“Adeline, we can’t explain this to the Council. They know you are here. They may

dismantle the Brigade. There’s something fishy about Baker and Shaw. I’m getting out of

town. You should too.”

Adeline shook her head. “Not until my work is done.” She vowed, “Walker uncovered

something else, even though he’ll never realise it now: the Cheyenne have exiled their

shaman, a wise woman named Falling Star. If anyone knows about their business, it’s

her.”

“Black River haven’t reached Denver yet, but they will. You don’t want to be there when it

happens.”

“I’ll be long gone before then.” Adeline promised as she mounted Ace, riding towards

Denver.

Scanlon watched her leave, and looked back at the remains of Hardwood House. He

shook his head in despair and mounted his own horse.



Adeline rode into Denver, only to be halted by a deputy marshal. She nodded at him as

she handed over her Peacemaker and Bowie knife. Riding through Denver, she brought

Ace to a halt at a nearby saloon, hitching him at the post before entering.

The saloon was bustling with activity. Residents of Denver, Miners, travellers and brooding

cowboys filled the tables. Prostitutes and drunkards roamed around the room, while the

sounds of a ragtime piano filled the air. In the darkest corner of the room, Adeline noticed

a Native American woman dressed in standard trail clothing hunched over a bottle of

whiskey.

“I’m looking for Falling Star.” Adeline told her, sitting down.

“Why would you want to find her?” The Native American retur ned.

“Never mind that. Where can I find her?”

“I am Falling Star.” The woman introduced, “But at least, I used to be.”

“What do you know about spirits?”

“Ever since the Great Spirit showed up and influenced Soaring Eagle, our chieftain, the

Cheyenne banished me when I announced that the Spirit was false.” Falling Star

explained, “My efforts to stop the Spirit failed, and the true Nature Spirits won’t help me

now that I have forsaken the Old Ways.”

Adeline turned around and noticed three of outlaws from the last raid entering the saloon.

One of them was still wearing his gunbelt. “I think you’d better tell me more,” she

whispered to Falling Star, “Because someone else is taking interest in your business.”

Adeline slipped away and stood at the bar while the trio approached the shaman. She

knew that she had to take care of the leader as quickly as possible before he pulled his

gun on Falling Star. Once he was taken care of, it would be a simple punch-up. How was

able to get into Denver anyway? Hornsby’s weapon laws would have prevented them from

entering. She didn’t have her own gun or her knife, but she was still able to conceal her

whip behind her coat. She uncoiled it discreetly.

The leader of the outlaws had reached Falling Star.

“The Great Spirit wants to send his regards.” He said, raising the revolver. Adeline stood

up and lashed out with the bull whip. With a crack, the gun was snatched out of the

bandit’s hand and flew behind the bar. All the patrons turned to face the commotion.

“It’s the Black Panther!” One of the other thugs cried out. The leader sent the two thugs to

confront Adeline, while he drew a concealed knife and confronted Falling Star as she tried

to slip away. Thinking quickly, the shaman grabbed the whiskey bottle and smashed in the

brute’s face before throwing him into one of the other bandits who Adeline was brawling

with. Adeline used the distraction to grab the third outlaw by the collar, punching him the

stomach several times before sliding him across the bar. The leader grabbed the knife andbrandished at her in an intimidatinge manner, only for Adeline to break a chair over him.

She grabbed Falling Star and fled the saloon.



The pair fled out onto the street and mounted their respective horses, riding to the edge of

town so Adeline could reclaim her weapons before riding back the the Brigade’s hideout.

“Thank you.” Falling Star said as they arrived. “Who are you people anyway?”

“We are members of the Denver Defence Brigade. We were established by Caleb Hornsby

to protect Denver County.” Adeline explained, “We are independent from the Union andthe Confederacy, and our only political concern is the safety of the people. Now, what do

you know?”

“Chief Soaring Eagle is now answering to the Great Spirit.” Fallin Star claimed, “We have

been living peacefully until the Spirit arrived on the scene. I don ’t think that the Spirit’s

avatar is actually a Deity. They’d never have a physical presence in this world. He may not

even be one of us.”

“My colleague was suspicious of the mine owner named Baker.” Adeline mentioned, “I’m

going to investigate the mine. Are you interested?”

“I may have actually seen Soaring Eagle near the mine. That should be worth a look.”

Adeline loaded her Peacemaker and mounted Ace. Yun Pan and Emmett joined them.

As the posse made their way to the mine, they were greeted by an unexpected sight: The

entire complex had been destroyed. Several well-dressed men and women were

searching the place for anything. Amongst their number was Scanlon.

“What happened here?” Emmett asked, “Did the Indians attack?”

“No. They didn’t.” Scanlon replied, “There’s been no sign of their presence anywhere. Not

even any bodies.”

“This could be the Great Spirit’s doing.” Falling Star suggested, “He may not have used the

Cheyenne. Maybe it was those outlaws.”

“The Pinkertons here have discovered that all papers and records had been removed.

Baker and Shaw might be clearing their tracks.” Scanlon added, “There is one other thing:

The Union Blue train that was robbed was carrying a supply of rifles.”

“What would Walker’s gang want with rifles?” Adeline pondered. Just then, the answer hit

her. “The Great Spirit is planning on arming the Cheyenne! They’re gonna try and attack

Denver!”

All faces turned at to her.

“Falling Star will show us to their hideout. Scanlon, you round up the Brigade and bring

them back to Denver. They must prepare for battle.” She ordered. “Emmett and Yun Pan

will come with me.”



Meanwhile, the Great Spirit was once again addressing the Cheyenne.

“The Old Ways are false. You must give up those oaths and take up arms.” He proclaimed.

“I have secured you with rifles. The time has come to drive the despoilers from this land!”

The Cheyenne cheered as they were handed out Winchester rifles. Soaring Eagle

holstered a revolver as he prepared to lead his tribe towards Denver.

“What about Falling Star?” he asked.

“The shaman is false. Do not be concerned about her.”

Adeline and her posse were riding up to through the mountains. They came across a large

gorge spanned by a rope bridge.

“We’ll leave the horses here.” Adeline commanded, “Emmett, you cover us.”

Emmett dimounted and crouched beind a rock with his Springfield. Yun Pan, Adeline and

Falling Star proceeded across the rope bridge. Shots began to ring out as Walker’s bandits

fired on them with rifles. Emmett fired a single shot that sent one of the outlaws

plummeting down the gorge. Two of the bandits approached the bridge with knives,

preparing to cut it. With astounding speed, Yun Pan sprinted across the bridge and jumped

into the air, delivering a flying kick to one of the bandits and putting the other one out of

ation with his rapid blows. He then leapt up to where the snipers were hiding and put them

out of action. By then, Adeline and Falling Star had crossed the bridge. Emmett was

lagging behind as Falling Star led them up to the caverns where the Cheyenne wereassembling. The braves had heard the commotion while they were mounting, and were

able to ambush the posse.

As they emerged from their hiding places, they immediately noticed Falling Star and

lowered their rifles.

“Falling Star?” One of them asked, “We thought you were dead.”

“I have returned, and am here to tell you that the Great Spirit is a warmonger. The Nature

Spirits may have turned their backs on us, but these people are not our enemies. The

Great Spirit is a warmonger.” She proclaimed, “And I demand to see him.”

The braves marched out and escorted the group towards the caves. All the heads turned

to see them. Soaring Eagle watched them and approach and drew his revolver.

“I thought I had banished you.” He said angrily, “And you had been killed in Denver.”

“I am returning.” Falling Star proclaimed, “And am here to end the Great Spirit’s reign.”

“He will drive the despoilers from our lands!” Soaring Eagle yelled in protest.

“No, he is using you as means to an end.” Adeline told him.

“Silence!” the chieftain snapped, “This is not your war.”



“Let her speak!” Falling Star demanded, “Your people are to stand down until this is

settled.”

There was a series of mutterings amongst the Cheyenne braves. Soaring Eagle led

everybody up the path to the cave. The hidden chamber opened up once again to reveal

the Great Spirit in all his glory.

“Why are you here?” he demanded, “You are meant to be leading your crusade. Why have

brought these strangers to my domain? You will suffer the penalty for your indiscretion.”

The Spirit drew a dagger and prepared to throw it at Soaring Eagle. Adeline quickly

disarmed him with her whip, catching the dagger.

“Reveal yourself!” She demanded. The Spirit became enveloped in smoke and

disappeared.

“Kill them!” Soaring Eagle ordered. The posse dived through the chamber doors as the

braves fired on them. Soaring Eagle pursued them himself, revolver in hand.

The posse made their way through the stone tunnel, noticing the Great Spirit fleeing. They

eventually came to an opening where a horse was waiting. Emmett raised his rifle and

fired at the Great Spirit as he mounted, hitting the horse. At the same time, Soaring Eagle

had pursued them outside and was joined by the other braves. As they caught the posse

and disarmed, Adeline halted the group.

“Don’t resist.” She instructed, “I’ll handle this.”

She leapt down to the Great Spirit and grabbed him. As they wrestled, she was able to

remove the cowl, revealing Baker’s face. Everyone fell silent as they saw him. Soaring

Eagle ran to the pair with his revolver. A gunshot from the cliff hit him straight in the heart,

killing him instantly. Adeline drew her Peacemaker and fired at the rocks where the shot

had emanated. Judge Shaw fell from behind them, clutching his chest and coughing up

blood. Baker stood up and noticed the braves watching him. Another gunshot sent him to

the ground. Adeline turned to see Scanlon approaching the scene. As he dismounted, the

braves were all dropping their weapons and leaving, to Falling Star ’s combination of relief

and happiness.

“How did you know?” Baker asked as he coughed up blood.

“When you collapsed the mine.” Scanlon explained, “Congratulations Adeline. We’ve done

it. I figured it all out on the way back: Baker is a huckster. He was using his powers to

manipulate the Cheyenne into attcking his shipments so he could hoard them for himself.

His ultimate plan was to persuade the Cheyenne to abandon the Old Ways so they would

invade Denver. That way he could drive the Union and Confederacy out of the Disputed

Territories and establish his own empire.”

“What about Shaw?” Adeline queried, “What was his role in this?”





Documents

The Denver Defense Brigade