The Hell Hound of Hiko

While working at John Asquaga’s Nugget in Sparks, one of my keno writing supervisors was an ancient and long-time cowboy named Kenny, bowed legs and a big rodeo belt buckle. I cannot remember his last name.

He had grown up in Nevada and one day told me this tale he had heard from his Dad and Uncles. I wrote it down because it seemed too fantastic at the time. Kenny has more than likely passed away since the last time I saw him in 1988.

In what is now the Mt. Irish mountain range, where the vast desert stretches out in all directions, Johnson found a silver knife with a handle encrusted with rubies.

The knife is ancient in its craftsmanship, hinting at a bygone era of skilled artisans. Enchanted by the discovery, Johnson decided to take it with him.

Unbeknownst to Johnson, his find had not gone unnoticed. Far beyond the cave’s entrance, a pair of glowing amber eyes of a giant wolf, its fur as dark as the midnight sky, had sensed the disturbance and began to stalk its unwitting prey.

As Johnson moved through the rocky terrain, an uneasy feeling crept over him. He could sense a presence, an unseen force trailing behind him.

The hairs on Johnson’s neck stood on end, and he quickened his pace. With each step, the stalking wolf closed the distance. The animal’s massive paws moved soundlessly over the rocky ground as it kept pace with the man.

Johnson’s heart pounded in his chest as he reached the edge of a small clearing, and desperation fueled his actions as he hastily attached the silver knife to the end of a sturdy tree limb. He thrust it into the soft earth near the entrance of a nearby cave, creating a makeshift weapon.

Hiding in the shadows, Johnson waited, his breath held as the giant wolf emerged from the darkness. The beast circled the clearing, its predatory gaze fixed on the lone man.

The ruby-encrusted handle of the knife gleamed in the moonlight, catching the wolf’s attention. With a guttural growl, the wolf lunged at Johnson.

In a swift motion, Johnson grasped the improvised weapon and thrust it with all his might into the beast. The beast let out a mournful howl before collapsing to the ground.

In fear, Johnson retreated to the edge of the clearing. The morning light brought shock and horror.

There, lying on the ground, was the lifeless body of a man, the knife still embedded in his chest. The man’s face twisted in pain, and it was evident he had suffered a similar fate to the giant wolf.

Blood stained the ground, and Johnson noticed that he, too, bore wounds from the previous night’s encounter. Without hesitation, Johnson began the long trek to the nearest settlement of Hiko.

Weakened by his wounds, hungry and thirsty, Johnson dropped after once more losing his footing, this time unable to continue. As he lay dying, a Good Samaritan stumbled upon him.

The passerby, a middle-aged man named Tabor, seeing Johnson near death, decided to help the distressed man. He loaded the man in his wagon and took him to Hiko.

Tabor sought the aid of the local sheriff’s office. Breathless and pale, Johnson recounted the events, desperately trying to convince the deputy that he was not responsible for the death of the mysterious man.

He spoke of the giant wolf, the knife, and the dangers that lurked in the Nevada wilderness.

However, the deputy remained skeptical, finding Johnson’s story difficult to believe. To him, it sounded like a concoction of delirium induced by the wilderness or, worse, a calculated attempt to deflect blame.

Determined to investigate, the deputy, accompanied by a small posse, set out to the clearing where Johnson claimed the incident occurred. When they arrived, they found the lifeless body of a white man, as the injured man had described, a knife still protruding from the chest.

The deputy, convinced of foul play, ordered Johnson’sarrest. The town’s townspeople demanded justice, and Johnson found himself accused of murder.

A swift trial ensued in one of the many saloons. Despite Johnson’s impassioned pleas and attempts to prove his innocence, the jury pronounced him guilty, and the judge sentenced him to be hanged by the next until dead.

An ominous shadow of the gallows loomed over Johnson as he faced his final moments. As the noose tightened around his neck, the town watched in somber silence as Johnson’s dreams of wealth ended with a six-foot fall.

The following month, a giant wolf began roaming the outskirts of Hiko. Many believe the beast still exists, searching for the knife, melted down long ago and for the rubies sold to a merchant in Virginia City when Nevada was still a territory.