Ai Machonnee Wolf Man

Ai Machonnee

Wolf Man

Author

Will Welton

Smashwords Edition

Copyrights 2010

Copyrights on all Welton Novels wrote by

Will Welton are held by

Crystal Welton-Betts

Copyright at the Library of Congress 2009

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Any names of the living or dead people which I wrote in this book, was not meant to insinuate or used in a bad way. These people all are proud to be from Oklahoma. This book is a work of fiction of names, characters, places, or incidents either are products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locality or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental unless other wise noted.

Other Novels

By

Will Welton

White Bear Clan Series

Early Times Of The White Bear Clan

ISBN: 978-0-557-06028-3

John O’Leary U.S. Marshal

ISBN: 1-60441-163-5

Harmon Bell Texas Ranger

ISBN: 1-60836-287-6

Lem Dew

ISBN: 978-0-557-05893-8

Black Thorn

ISBN: 978-0-557-05962-1

Tanner Oaks Texas Ranger

ISBN: 978-0-557-05857-0

Frontier Doctor of Indian Territory Oklahoma

ISBN: 1-6083-023-1

Always Pardners

ISBN: 978-0-557-05993-5

Cane Longbow Range Detective

ISBN: 978-0-557-06029-0

Never Too Late

ISBN: 978-0-557-06195-2

Nights of Terror

ISBN: 978-0-557-06203-4

Run From A Hanging

ISBN: 978-0-557-05918-8

Treasures of Indian Territory Oklahoma

ISBN: 978-0-557-05793-1

Ghost Riders

ISBN: 978-0-557-06137-2

Sam Mountain Texas Ranger

ISBN: 978-0-557-05941-6

Lee Garrett Bounty Hunter

ISBN: 978-0-557-06192-1

Introduction

Any bunch of mountains has its legends and the Wichita’s in southwest Oklahoma is no exception. The Wichita’s stretch across half of Kiowa County starting at the North Fork of the Red River down into Comanche County close to Fort Sill and Lawton Oklahoma. These mountains are thought to be the oldest in the United States. It is only natural that many legends and stories of gold hidden in their inaccessible boulders abound for even strangers from foreign lands seeking their fortunes, along with the gold miners, Indians, cowboys and outlaws.

Fifty years after Columbus discovered America, the Spanish came to the area. In April, 1541, Coronado, on his search for Cibola, the Seven Cities of Gold, left his main camp in Mexico with a detachment of 30 soldiers and crossed the Red River in search of the mythical city of gold that had been told to them by an Indian guide. Steel clad warriors directed by Coronado camped on the south banks of the South Canadian River and dreamed of a fabulous land of gold referred to by the Indians as Quivira.

The Mexican town in the mouth of Devil's Canyon was perhaps the first ghost town in Oklahoma. The legends of rich treasure and ghosts that guard them have preserved a history of Devil's Canyon that other history and tradition could not have done. Spanish miners led by Don Diego Del Castillo who came to the area in 1650 are said to have started the legends. Although there seems to be no proof of gold or silver ever being removed in any large quantities, the stories and legends persist.

Devil's Canyon, called Canyon Diablo by the Spanish explorers, cuts a large swath a mile and half long through rugged granite peaks before opening into the North Fork of the Red River. The river runs from north to south between Flat Top Mountain and Soldier Mountain, this area is rich with tales of lost Spanish gold and smelters that melted the gold. Also, found there are foundation ruins of a forgotten ancient church, a brass cannon and even the treasure of a Spanish ship. Part of the area, 768 acres, is owned by the Quartz Mountain State Park at the present time.

Early settlers in the area have found beads, arrowheads, jewelry, and buttons, along with some bones in plowing their fields. Many were found at the site of the old Mexican town and a Wichita Indian village. There are enough stories and legends about lost gold mines in Devil's Canyon that it is hard to believe there is not some proof in the idea persist about gold mines in that area.

Devil's Canyon is supposed to be haunted by ghosts in shining armor guarding the hidden treasures. One of the treasures is supposed to be a brass cannon filled with gold buried somewhere in the canyon. Another of the supposed treasures is a silver casket filled with church wealth. According to the legend from the early Spanish missionaries who were in the area in 1629, it is buried in one of the hidden caves. It is rumored on foggy nights in the fall of the year that the iron clad ghost of the Spanish soldiers has been heard ridding down the valley of Devils Canyon.

Legends also say that in the archives in Historical Santa Fe, New Mexico, is recorded an eighty-five pound nugget of gold, eighty-five percent purity, brought to Santa Fe which reportedly came from a Devil's Canyon area mine.

In the fall of 1806 a party of well educated Mexicans who were splendidly dressed and spoke the English language fluently, camped near the remains of an old village in Devil's Canyon. Prospectors who were working in the same area learned from the Mexicans that they were trying to locate two of the old mines called Black Shaft and Tunnel Shaft mines.

The Mexican party, which was composed of ten men, camped at the site for four weeks. One night about 10:00 a blast shook the entire community, followed by five more at intervals of about 20 minutes. The next morning when all the miners disclaimed knowing anything about it, with aroused curiosity, a number of them went to visit the Mexican camp. The Mexicans were gone and the surrounding hills showed no sign of the blasts.

Nearly a century later, a young blacksmith from Lugert was in the area hunting rabbits. A heavy snowstorm came up. While on the broad mesa between Devil's Canyon and Bird Canyon, the hunter came upon a big hole in the ground. Across the hole lay a cedar log, which broke when kicked and fell into it. From the sound, the hunter figured the hole was about 40 feet deep. After his return to Lugert, as soon as it was possible, he and some friends went back to the mesa, searching for the hole, which they never found. The men still wonder what happened to the entrance of this mysterious cavern.

An early businessman of Hobart, that had been a scout for the trail herds that passed through on the Great Western Cattle Trail, then had settled in Hobart, found evidence of once thriving villages of the Mexicans and Indians in Devil's Canyon. Near a Mexican village were a number of springs and on the west side of Soldier Mountain there was a mysterious cave with several tons of ashes. The cave had been used by the Spaniards to smelter gold. They would build a big, hot fire and throw the gold ore into the fire. It would melt down into the ashes. After the ashes cooled they sifted the gold out.

Another story is there was a group of Mexicans that tried to find the gold that their ancestors had buried. They knew it was buried somewhere in Devil's Canyon. They searched day and night. They needed more supplies so sent two young Mexican boys to a trading post across the river (Doan's Store). When the boys got out of sight of the camp they heard screams and looked back seeing a large band of Kiowa attacking their camp. They rode for help, but when they returned, all the Mexicans had either been killed or captured. This story was told in 1893 by an old Mexican that claimed to be one of the boys.

Another old Mexican showed up at Frank Lugert's saloon after the territory was opened and spent several months in the area. He said he had been with a hunting party years before, who had dug on the west side of King Mountain for a cache of gold they believed hidden by Mexican miners. The hunters were attacked by

Indians but the Mexican escaped. Mark Sauerburg, who owned the saloon with Lugert, searched the area. He found an abandoned mine shaft on the west side of King Mountain and later at the top of the mountain, he found the bones of the hunting party.

OTTER CREEK also called Possum Creek

The Otter Creek legend stems from a report that outlaws who had stolen a government payroll from Fort Sill were being pursued by cavalry. When they crossed Otter Creek, two miles south of Cold Springs, they buried their loot in the creek bank at a creek crossing. Legend has it that they were below the narrows, but to be below the narrows, they would have been seven miles south of Cold Springs. There is an old historic crossing on Otter Creek two miles below Cold Springs, but whether the loot is buried there or five miles down stream actually confuses the treasure hunters.

Chapter 1

It had seemed days ago since the stage couch had left Wichita Falls Texas, however it had been about six hours. The confines were tight because of the full load of people going north towards Fort Sill and the Indian Territory. Joe Helms and two rather large men set squeezed together on the seat in the middle of the stage and the other two seats had three passengers apiece crammed together leaving very little for leg room for the passengers. Joe knew that the woman and two kids had room in the seat and Joe had faced towards them so he would have a little more leg room. Also, there were four men ridding the hurricane deck on the top of the coach with the driver and shotgun guard in the box. The heat and dust seemed to boil into the confines of the coach and made it almost unbearable to breath.

From the sound the teams of horse hitched to the coach were making Joe could tell the horses had come down to a walk from the trot, which they had held for several miles. After about a mile Joe could see several building coming into sight and not long after that the team was pulled to a stop as the driver yelled out Whoa to the horses. After the horses had stopped the coach seemed to be rocking back and forth forever. As the drive stepped down from the box he hollered out, Be here about an hour so’s you folks unload and can eat over beside the store at the café. The Holly Hocks are behind the café for you folks in need.

As Joe slid out the door and stood on the ground holding the coach door for a minute to get his legs to working he thought to himself, Holly Hocks hell. Why won’t these folks just say out houses? Joe moved on towards the café as the driver and shotgun guard went into the café. Entering the café Joe looked around and then walked over to the counter to stand near a stool for his butt was sore and tired from setting on the little middle seat of the stage. There was a man wearing a almost white apron plopped a bowel of dumpling, a piece of corn bread and a spoon on the counter in front of Joe as a rather large woman came through with the coffee pot and some cups.

Joe heard from over at one of the table’s one of the men, which had been riding on top of the stage, complained about the food. The apron man said in a loud voice, This is all the stage company pays for and if you want something else you have to pay for it yourself. The apron man turned and went back to the kitchen and there was not a peep out of complainer at the table. Joe finished off his bowel of dumplings and thought it was a good meal, as the apron man passed by him, Joe said, Sir that was a good bowel of dumplings and I might be back for some more.

You come in on the stage?

Yep but I might not be leaving on it today. I’ve had my fill of the cramped quarters of the coach. Joe then turned and left the cafe to walk across the road toward the stage and met up with two of the passengers that had come from the saloon up the street. As they walked on toward the coach Joe heard them talking about going on to a place called Possum Creek and mining for gold. When the driver and guard were walking up to the stage the driver checked out the mules which were harnessed to the coach. As he walked around the team, he straightens up some of the harness and came up to climb in the driver’s seat. The driver yelled out, Everybody load up for we leave in five minutes.

There was a scramble of men trying to get inside of the coach and three men climbed up on the top of the stage. Joe stood there a minute before saying, You on top setting on the large blue bag. The man setting on Joe’s bag looked down as if to say this is my seat with a what the hell you want look on his face. How about you toss down that bag you’re setting on to me. I believe I’ll take the next stage going north. The man grudgingly stood up and tossed the bag down to Joe as the driver picked up his reins in his hand. The man set back down bracing himself for the take off surge of the stage and the driver whipped the team to a walk leaving town.

There was an older man setting in the shade of the livery barn on a wooden keg. He looked up at Joe and replied, The next stage might not have any more room than that one did.

I might just have to walk some then because I’m getting sick and tired of that coach. Joe answered the man as he walked over, after dropping his bag on the ground near the wall, and set on another keg. Is about every stage going north loaded with passengers?

Yep and they’s all looking for gold.

Is there a place to sleep around here that you would recommend?

Nope.

Why not? Joe asked with a puzzling look on his face.

Hotel down the street has too many bed bugs and Dell charges two dollars a night. Cribs behind the saloon stinks and you would have to share the room with a whore so the cost would be five dollars a night.

If a fellow didn’t like them accommodations or the price where might he spend the night? Joe asked as he stretched out his legs.

Loft in the livery cools off about eight o’clock at night. They are just a few rats running around and no bed bugs.

What might be the charge for the night or maybe longer till the stage comes through going north again? Joe asked because he knew that most livery’s wanted to charge half of what the hotels charged unless your horse spent the night in one of the stalls.

The man looked over at Joe and finally replied after a minute, Company.

Company? Joe asked.

Yep company because they isn’t no one around here worth talking to so’s I can find out what’s happening in the outside world and maybe you can catch me up on what’s happening in the outside world. By the way my handle is Harold Jenkins.

Joe Helms. Joe answered as he shook hands with Harold. Have you got a water trough out back a fellow could clean up a little?

Yep just help yourself but don’t hang anything on the corral fence or Lucy will make off with it.

Lucy?

Yauaha she’s an old mule the company wants to get rid of.

Joe picked up his bag and headed through the livery runway to the other end of the barn where the water tank was on the left near the corral. Joe set his bag on a work bench table top attached to the out side of the barn and took out a clean suit of clothes. He then stripped down, climbed into the water tank, and washed off. When he got out of the tank, he looked over and sure enough there stood a mule watching him. Joe dried off with an old shirt and put his clean clothes on. All the time the mule stood there watching him as she twitched her long ears.

Joe decided that it being so late in the day that he would wash out his clothes in the morning that way they would have plenty of time to dry. Moving back through the livery he set his bag near the front door against the wall. Harold stood up as Joe came through the door and replied, I’m fixing to go over to the café and eat. You want to come along and have a bit?

Sure thing, because that bowel of dumplings I had at noon didn’t fill my hollow leg up enough when I ate. Joe commented as they went across the street towards the cafe.

If Thad has any of what he feeds the stage riders left he only charges a dime. If he doesn’t have left over from the meal he charges two bits to a dollar depending on what you want to eat. Harold answered as they walked across the street and into the café. They each had two bowls of dumplings apiece and coffee then headed back to the livery. Joe set back down on the keg near the door as Harold went inside of the livery. Joe opened his valise, pulled out his leather covered writing equipment, and opened up to a clean sheet of white paper. Taking a pencil out he began to draw from memory Thad the apron man at the café.

Joe had it roughed sketched as Harold came out of the livery and took up a set on one of the other nail kegs. Harold watched in silence and after about thirty minutes, Joe was putting the finishing touches on the drawing. He had drawn Thad from the waist up standing behind the counter and also items you might see on the counter. Joe signed his name at the bottom of the picture as Harold commented, You pretty good at drawing pictures. You wouldn’t happen to be one of them artist from back east would ya?

No I’m a Professor of Archeology at the University of Maryland. It helps that I’m able to draw things I see when I find them. However I am not an artist.

Sure fooled the hell out of me because that looks just like Thad. Why don’t you take that over to Thad in the morning and make him feed you while you’re here or charge him a high price for the picture?

Maybe for the food he’ll let me have while I’m here. Joe commented as he folded up his leather writing material and replied, I believe I would like maybe a cool beer. You want to go up to the saloon and have a brew with me? I’ll even buy the first round.

"I’ll go have a beer but dream on for it surly won’t be cool. I even think Dumas heats the damn stuff just to make me grip about the beer. Hey bring your drawing things and you could probable pick up