Continued from Chapter 1: The Prelude
Chapter 2
The sound of rolling thunder and a plume of dust and dirt announced his arrival. The long canvas coat he wore was typical for men of this chosen profession, going back for generations. His goggles were covered with the red dust that had been kicked into his face from hours spent on the dirt roads of the Outlands.
Edgar Wallace was a third-generation Rider. Instead of traveling the highways and plains of the Outland by horse as his father and grandfather had done, he rode a stallion of steel, rubber, and leather. Powered by a heavy-duty, alcohol-injected engine, Edge’s bike was faster and more powerful than anything on the Plains.
He was known among both the law-abiding and the outlaws by one name: “Edge.”
When he came riding into Pine Bluff, nobody stopped him. He blew into town on a wave of noise and dust. The local freefolk took notice, stopping their daily activities to acknowledge the new arrival.
Not unlike most frontier towns in the Outlands, the welcome was equal parts hospitality and curiosity. With maybe a bit of apprehension thrown in for good measure.
These people had seen more than their share of Riders come and go. In their own inauspicious way, the little town claimed a dark corner of the early history of the Riders of the Outland Plains – for it was in Pine Bluff that served as the location for the infamous murder of Tierran McCaffrey.
It was a place with a checkered past. And while some tried to move on, others were drawn to the “romance” of the darkness and mysteries of Pine Bluff’s past. But none of that mattered to Edge. He had come to town to address a much more immediate concern.
People were disappearing from Pine Bluff. Imaginations ran wild with excuses: demons from beyond the Stone Range, Shadow Walkers, rustlers, train robbers – you name it. Word had already leaked out to nearby communities, and Edge had heard all sorts of rumors and theories that tried to explain the disappearances.
It was clear; the people of Pine Bluff needed help, and not just any Rider would do.
Edge parked his bike and removed his goggles and bandanna. From the looks on the faces of the young mother and two kids who watched him pull up, his arrival was anticipated. He just hoped he could help. Sometimes people expected too much – doing the impossible wasn’t always enough for some folks.
Edge’s reputation had preceded him, and many were counting on him and his uncanny ability to get to the bottom of just about anything. He wasn’t just a peacekeeper, he was a detective of the first order. If anyone could, Edge would be the one to solve the mystery that had been plaguing the community for the past month.
As for Edge, he never got used to being a minor celebrity – even in remote places like the towns he served in the plains. He’d rather keep to himself, but as time wore on, more and more people were beginning to expect bigger and bigger things out of him.
He pulled up to the Sheriff’s Office on Pine Street. Across the street was the store owned and operated by Eli Gunderson, who also served as mayor of Pine Bluff. Gunderson sent the original cable that brought Edge, but as a Rider, it was common courtesy to check in with the local law when you arrived in town.
Edge had found those initial meetings often provided valuable insights and helped direct his investigations. He could wait, but Gunderson had sent the message as a cable. That meant it was urgent.
Edge proceeded through the front door of the mercantile, ringing the bell that alerted anyone in the back of a new customer’s arrival. Gunderson’s head poked out from around the corner of the back storeroom. It was round and ruddy. Two scowling eyes peered out from behind wire-rimmed glasses.
“Mr. Gunderson,” Edge called out to the head.
Gunderson’s face lit up. He’d been waiting for help to arrive, and here it was in the form of the best lawman on two wheels. “Mr. Wallace, I presume?” His voice was slightly high-pitched, not exactly what Edge expected when he appeared. Gunderson walked past the back counter and met the lawman halfway, shaking his hand profusely. “Am I glad to see you. Can I get you something to drink? You must be parched.”
“I’m fine, thanks.” Edge pried his hand loose from Gunderson’s. For a politician, the man had a crippling, vice-like grip. He was full of surprises.
Moving to the general merchandise counter, Edge surveyed the array of trinkets and souvenirs from throughout The Wasted Lands, including sweet candies typically found in only the best boutiques in Mortal City. It was unusual for a store to carry such items so far away from a major city. Clearly, Mr. Gunderson had some interests outside of Pine Bluff.
Oblivious to Edge’s observations, the Gunderson quickly recapped the situation for the lanky Rider: People were leaving Pine Bluff. That, in itself, wasn’t all that unusual. The freefolk of the Outlands were known to pick up and move on when it suited them. That was an understood right in these parts.
But this was different.
According to Gunderson, people had literally “disappeared.” They were in town one day and gone the next – with no explanation.
“Almost a month ago, I noticed Purdy Wilson wasn’t hanging around like he used to,” he explained. A scowl took over Gunderson’s face as he started to recall the details.
“Who’s Purdy Wilson?” Edge asked.
The question seemed to annoy Gunderson, but he explained: “He’s lived here for years. He’ll do a few odd jobs – when he’s sober enough, at least – and then he’ll cash it all in at Tiller’s Pub. He usually sleeps it off in the barn around back.
“But he hasn’t been around.” Gunderson looked straight into the lawman’s eyes. Edge could see the man was afraid of something.
Edge met his stare and countered. “Maybe he moved on? Vagabonds tend to float.”
“Not Purdy. He’s Preacher William’s kin. They don’t talk to each other much, but the Preacher keeps an eye on Purdy to make sure he stays out of trouble. It’s been that way for years.”
“A missing drunk wasn’t much of a crime spree,” Edge thought. There must be more behind Gunderson’s request that a Rider be dispatched to Pine Bluff.
As if hearing his skepticism, Gunderson continued. His eyes darted around the store as if to make sure no one could hear what he was to say next.
“But that wasn’t the whole of it.”
Gunderson was starting to open up and the information flow went from a trickle too much, much more.
“Once I realized Purdy was gone, I started to realize we hadn’t seen a vagrant in Pine Bluff of months. We always get someone riding into town on the train or coming overland. They stay for a while before they leave. Sometimes the cause a minor ruckus, sometimes not. But they’re always here.”
“And now?” Edge asked, sensing the answer to come.
“Nothing.”
Nothing was about the size of it as far as Edge was concerned. He hadn’t expected to come in and break up a vagrant kidnapping ring. Maybe Gunderson was just being a little over-dramatic.
Gunderson could sense his dismissiveness. He was sure that would change as more details emerged.
“Then about ten days ago, the Ashe girl went missing.”
“The Ashe girl?” Edge inquired.
“Yeah,” Gunderson went on. “Her name is Mollyanna Ashe. Her father is the undertaker for Pine Bluff and the surrounding area. Her father and fiancée found her horse tied up outside the graveyard at Sunset Ridge. No sign of the girl.”
“What was she doing out at the graveyard?” Edge’s curiosity was stoked.
“That’s the disturbing part,” Gunderson continued without missing a beat. “Ashe tells me someone has been digging up graves at the cemetery for the past month or so. Bodies are disappearing almost as fast as he’s planting them. Interesting thing, though, is that it’s only the dead men who seem to be missing.
“Mollyanna went up there one night – against her father’s wishes, I might add – and now she’s gone, too.”
Drunks, dead bodies, undesirables. It all sounded familiar to Edge. But the abduction of the undertaker’s daughter was an interesting twist.
When Gunderson had finished retelling his story to the Rider, the total number of unexplained disappearances totaled seven, including Big Jim Murphy, supervisor of the Unity Rail Corporation’s lumber operation, and M.A. Stephens, an assistant to the bank manager in Pine Bluff as well as an unknown number of vagrants and cadavers. If this was what Edge suspected, Pine Bluff hadn’t seen half the trouble that was bound to rain down on the town.
“Mr. Gunderson,” Edge began, “I think it’s best we get everyone we can into town where it will be easier to protect them.”
“Protect them from what?”
Edge looked grim. Just how do you tell the mayor of a small town that his friends and neighbors are under siege by what might as well be an army of the undead?
The mayor didn’t need any more of an explanation than the dour look on Edge’s face. He seemed to understand. “We’ve already started contacting the outlying farm families to have them come in so we can talk. I suppose we can put them up until things blow over – but they’re not likely to appreciate it unless we can tell them what’s going on.”
Just then, a young man came running into the store. He was in uniform and wore a deputy’s badge on his sweat-soaked shirt. His clothes were dirty and torn.
“Mr. Gunderson,” the young man yelled as he came into the store in what appeared to be a cloud of orange dust and hot air. “Sheriff Morrow needs backup.”
Gunderson flinched a bit as he turned to the deputy, who was now standing in the store, trying to catch his breath. For a moment, all Edge could hear was the young man’s wheezing.
Making his way to him, Gunderson put his hands on the deputy’s shoulders. “It’s all right, Albert. What’s happened? You look frightful.”
“I had to run through the grasslands from the Randolph place.” Albert huffed. “The tracker is destroyed, so the Chief had me run back here on foot. There’s not much time. Sheriff Morrow is pinned down, and Bertie is …” he broke down.
Gunderson took a step back. The deputy continued sobbing. Clearly, something was going horribly awry at the Randolph’s ranch. The mayor looked at the Rider. Without saying a word, Edge pulled his goggles back onto his head and tightened the bandanna around the lower part of his face. He was going to have to fly to the Randolph ranch if Morrow was going to have any chance of surviving.
“The entrance to the Randolph place is just past Mill Creek down the main road. Go until you reach the large, twisted rock and make a right. You can’t miss it. You’ll see the ranch house from there. Better hurry …”
By the time Gunderson’s final instructions were uttered, all anyone in Pine could hear was the roar of Edge’s bike.
Continued in Chapter 3: Randolph Ranch
