Crooked Canyon

We thought we would begin the search for the outlaws here, in the canyon, known to most in the area as Crooked Canyon because of an ominous Apache legend. The legend warned of a half-man-half-crow-like creature with crooked legs who murdered any who dared trespass on the ancient secrets.

"Foolish talk," Eliza claimed, and since her mother was Apache I didn't argue.

Nevertheless, as I gazed across the canyon from my vantage point at the edge of the dangerous cliff trail, I couldn't help but feel a threatening wind seem to howl across my senses. Eliza shivered beside me, and suddenly the sun seemed muted, the aerial roots of the cliffside plants dead and cursed to be dry.

"Perhaps we should go back, Will," Eliza whispered, turning her dark eyes upon me. "I've got some paper and paste back at home, and you can bring the tools. We can post wanted signs around town."

"No," I replied, refusing to budge. "Brett Gallaway is the reason Pa's laid up. I won't let them run at their liberty a moment longer."

Perhaps I should have thought of Eliza. Her face didn't betray her fears, but I sensed unease. She looked down, swaying, before kneeling.

"You all right?" I asked, hoping I hadn't sounded too harsh before.

"Vertigo," she whispered. "I hope. My mother always told me this place was taboo because of how our people died here. It was a fight within a tribe— brother killing brother, gallons of blood spilt. A magic spring hidden deep within the rocks made them go berserk. It was so horrible that a medicine man called down a meteor to create the Crow-Man, so that nobody would ever fight again."

I swallowed. "That's just where Gallaway would go."

We looked at each other, and nodded.