The Cache Creek Murder - Episode #4

 

Part of Friday's gold shipment

The freight depot was quiet the next morning, its wooden walls soaked in the golden light of dawn. Sheriff Callahan and Buck Thornton stood outside, their eyes scanning the area for any signs of activity. After Buck’s narrow escape the night before, they knew they had to act quickly before the smugglers caught wind of their investigation.

“We can’t just barge in without proof,” Callahan said, his voice low. “But we need to figure out who’s behind this operation.”

Buck nodded. “I overheard them talking about a shipment leaving at sunrise. If we’re lucky, it hasn’t gone far.”

Before they could make a move, a wagon creaked into view, pulled by two sturdy horses. The driver was none other than Scarface, the wiry man Buck had seen at the depot the previous night. He sat stiffly on the bench, his eyes darting nervously as he guided the wagon toward the main road.

“That’s our man,” Buck said.

Callahan placed a hand on his revolver. “Let’s follow him.”

The two men mounted their horses and trailed the wagon at a safe distance, keeping to the trees that lined the road. The wagon rumbled along for several miles before turning onto a narrow trail that led into the hills. Buck and Callahan dismounted and continued on foot, careful not to make any noise.

The trail ended at a secluded clearing where several men were loading crates from the wagon onto pack mules. Among them was the well-dressed gentleman Buck had seen in the saloon—the man who seemed to be calling the shots.

“This is bigger than I thought,” Callahan whispered. “We need to bring these men in.”

“Not yet,” Buck replied. “We need more evidence—something we can use to tie them to Timothy’s murder.”

As they watched from their hiding spot, one of the men opened a crate, revealing several leather pouches identical to the one found on Timothy’s body. Inside each pouch was gold dust—enough to make any prospector’s heart race.

“That’s our proof,” Buck said.

But before they could act, a twig snapped underfoot, and both men froze. One of the smugglers turned toward their hiding spot, his hand going to his pistol.

“Who’s there?” he barked.

Buck and Callahan exchanged a glance before stepping out into the open with their hands raised.

“Easy now,” Callahan said calmly. “We’re not looking for trouble.”

The well-dressed gentleman stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied them. “Sheriff Callahan,” he said with a cold smile. “To what do we owe this unexpected visit?”

“Just passing through,” Callahan replied evenly. “But it looks like you’ve got quite an operation here.”

The man chuckled darkly. “I suggest you turn around and forget what you’ve seen.”

Buck took a step forward, his voice steady. “And if we don’t?”

The gentleman’s smile faded, replaced by a steely glare. “Then you’ll end up like that poor boy from the assay office.”

The threat hung in the air like a storm cloud as Buck and Callahan weighed their options. They were outnumbered and outgunned—but retreating now would mean letting these men slip away.

Before either could respond, a familiar voice called out from behind them.

“Hold it right there!”

They turned to see Sir James Whitaker emerging from the trees with a rifle in hand. His usual carefree demeanor was gone, replaced by an intensity that caught everyone off guard.

“Sir James?” Buck said in surprise.

Whitaker grinned wryly. “Thought you might need some backup.”

The smugglers hesitated, clearly unsettled by Whitaker’s sudden appearance. Sensing an opportunity, Buck lunged forward and tackled Scarface to the ground while Callahan drew his revolver and fired a warning shot into the air.

Chaos erupted as the smugglers scrambled for cover, but Whitaker’s steady aim kept them pinned down long enough for Buck and Callahan to secure Scarface and one of his accomplices.

The well-dressed gentleman managed to escape into the woods with two others, but Buck knew they’d gotten what they came for: proof of smuggling—and two prisoners who might be willing to talk.

As they secured their captives and prepared to head back to town, Whitaker lit a cigarette and gave Buck an amused look.

“You owe me a drink,” he said.

Buck chuckled despite himself. “I’ll buy you two.”

But as they made their way back toward Cache Creek with their prisoners in tow, Buck couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning—and that things were about to get much more dangerous.

Episode 5: Secrets Revealed

Back in Cache Creek, Sheriff Callahan locked Scarface and his accomplice in one of the jail cells while Buck and Sir James Whitaker sat across from each other at a table in the sheriff’s office.

“You’ve got some explaining to do,” Buck said, fixing Whitaker with a curious gaze. “What were you doing out there?”

Whitaker shrugged nonchalantly. “Let’s just say I have my own reasons for keeping an eye on those gentlemen.”

“And what reasons would those be?” Callahan asked as he joined them at the table.

Whitaker hesitated before leaning forward conspiratorially. “Let’s just say I’ve had dealings with men like them before—and I know how dangerous they can be.”

Buck studied him carefully but decided not to press further—for now. Instead, he turned his attention to Scarface and his accomplice, who sat sullenly in their cell.

“We need answers,” Buck said firmly as he approached them. “Who’s running this operation? And why did you kill Timothy?”

Scarface sneered but said nothing until Whitaker stepped forward with an unsettling smile.

“I suggest you talk,” Whitaker said smoothly. “Otherwise, my friends here might lose their patience.”

Something about Whitaker’s tone seemed to unnerve Scarface, who finally muttered under his breath: “It wasn’t supposed to happen that way.”

“What wasn’t?” Buck pressed.

Scarface hesitated before finally spilling what little he knew: Timothy had stumbled onto their smuggling operation by accident—and when he refused to stay quiet about it, someone higher up had ordered him silenced.

“And who gave that order?” Callahan demanded.

Scarface shook his head stubbornly. “I don’t know his name—but he wears a gold pocket watch with an engraving on it.”

Buck felt a chill run down his spine as he remembered seeing that very watch on the well-dressed gentleman who had escaped earlier that day.

They were getting closer—but with every answer came more questions—and more danger lurking just around the corner.