Chapter 11

A cool wind swept through the canyon, and thunder rumbled closer. Davis waited, more sure of himself now that the threat of gunplay was past. Now, but for the questionable loyalty of Yavapai and Sanchez, he was alone. He must win acceptance if not respect, at least until they found the mine. The blow to the chin had temporarily stunned Bowdre, but by the time Davis had flung down the challenge to the rest of the men, Bowdre was ready. He came after Davis, his bloody lips making his wolfish grin all the more hideous.

Davis back-stepped to avoid Bowdre’s vicious right, moving under it with one of his own. But Bowdre was expecting that, and he countered the blow by seizing the arm and dragging Davis toward him. Bowdre brought up a hard-driving left knee, and Davis twisted away just enough to avoid taking it in his groin. Instead, it smashed into his thigh, numbing the leg and leaving him off balance. Bowdre’s left came streaking in, smashing Davis full on his right ear, driving him to his knees. Davis recovered barely in time to seize the booted foot aimed at his head. He twisted the foot savagely, and Bowdre cried out. Davis flung Bowdre away from him, and at that point the storm broke. The first wind-blown sheet of rain drenched them all. The rest of the men moved back into what shelter the mountain’s overhang afforded, leaving Bowdre and Davis in the driving rain and the mud. Bowdre was on hands and knees, Davis aiming a murderous kick at his head, when lightning struck a few yards away. A pinnacle of stone exploded and fragments were flung everywhere. Some of the horses were pelted, screaming in pain as the men fought to hold them. Davis took a blast of the stone shrapnel in the seat of his pants. With a howl, he ran for the meager protection of the mountain’s overhang, where the rest of the men had taken refuge.

“Help me!” Bowdre cried. “Somebody help me!” He stood precariously on his left foot, eerily outlined as tongues of blue and green lightning licked down into the canyon. Night had come right on the heels of the storm, causing the darkness to seem all the more intense. Only Zondo Carp responded to Bowdre’s frantic plea, allowing the injured man to lean on him as they made their way out of the rain.

Thunder boomed, and as usual the mountains seemed to vibrate violently. Cool air swept into the cavern where Kelsey Logan slept while her companions listened to the storm.

“With the storm,” said Kelly, “maybe they’ll leave us alone tonight. Kelsey’s feverish and it’s getting worse.”

“I doubt we’ll be bothered tonight,” Arlo said. “The meaner the storm gets, the better it is for us. With this lightning, nothing but a damn fool would be out there on the top of a mountain. Dallas, get that second bottle of whiskey. I reckon it’s time for Kelsey and me to take our medicine.”

“God,” said Kelly, “just the smell of whiskey makes me sick. How can anybody drink it?”

“Aw,” Dallas joked, “this is some of the better stuff. Come out of a run that was aged nearly fifteen minutes.”

Arlo downed a slug of the whiskey. When his coughing and choking had subsided, he swallowed as much cold water as he could take. He had passed the bottle to Kelly, who was pouring some of the potent brew into a tin cup when Kelsey awakened. “I’m thirsty,” she said, “and it’s so hot in here, I feel like I’m being burned alive.”

“You have fever,” said Arlo. “Kelly’s fixing you some whiskey. After you drink that, you can have all the water you want.”

“Maybe I ought to weaken it with water,” Kelly said. “It’s awful strong.”

“No,” said Kelsey. “Mix it with water, and there’ll just be more of it. Let me swallow it quick as I can and be done with it.”

“I’ll raise you up some,” Dallas said, “and Kelly will hold the cup. Try to keep it down. This is our last bottle of whiskey.”

“My God,” Kelsey sputtered, after the first sip, “it tastes like poison. I can’t do it.”

“It is poison,” said Arlo, “and you have to do it. It takes poison to kill poison, and that’s what infection is. Before the night’s done, you’ll be out of your head with fever. If you don’t take enough now to sweat out the fever, you’ll just have to take more later. Kelly, mix it half and half with water. It’s hell takin’ it straight.”

“All right,” Kelsey said, “I’ll do it. Somehow.” Little by little she swallowed the vile stuff, and since she wasn’t used to it, it quickly had the desired effect. She slept soundly. Despite his concern for Kelsey, Arlo slept too. Awakening much later, he found his face was sweaty. Dallas dozed, but Kelly was awake.

“Kelsey’s burning up with fever,” said Kelly. “She keeps throwing off her blankets. I’m afraid for her.”

“If we don’t see a change soon,” Arlo said, “we’ll have to force some more whiskey down her. She should have had a third cup earlier. Our sparing her, not giving her enough to break that fever, will only make it worse for her now.”

“She’s already in a stupor,” said Kelly, “and I’m afraid if we try to get more whiskey down her, she’ll strangle. Let’s wait a little longer. Maybe her fever will break.”

Kelsey mumbled in fitful sleep as Arlo silently cursed himself for not having taken her to town to a doctor. He feared her fever wasn’t going to break, and it was too late for a hard ride to town. The whiskey remedy was all they had. Kelly had folded the remnant of the petticoat into a pad, and after soaking it in cold water, laid the cloth over Kelsey’s feverish face. Time after time she repeated the process, until Arlo could stand it no longer.

“No more cold water,” he said. “She ought to be sweating by now.”

Kelly stirred up the fire so they might see a little better. Arlo was on his knees beside Kelsey, silently begging for some evidence that the crisis was past. Finally, in the flickering light from the fire, he saw the shine of moisture on Kelsey’s cheeks and forehead. He could have shouted with relief, but instead, he grabbed Kelly in a jubilant bear hug.

“I saw that,” said Kelsey weakly. “How long has this been going on?”

“Since we knocked you out with whiskey,” Kelly teased. “How do you feel?”

“Awful,” said Kelsey. “There’s a big thumping ache in my head, and I’m thirsty. I want cold water, and lots of it.”

The storm continued into the small hours of the morning. Dallas dozed, his hat tipped over his eyes, until Kelly lifted the hat and dropped it on his face.

“Damn it,” Dallas growled, “ain’t you got some better way of wakin’ a man?”

“Lots of them,” said Kelly, “but for another time and another place. It’s time we were taking the horses and mules to graze.”

Thunder rumbled down the canyons, so frequent that one drumming seemed an echo of the last. Lightning—blue, green, and gold—leaped from one mountain to another and drove deep into the gullies. Bowdre, Davis, and their companions huddled against the east wall of the mountain, with only a slight overhang to keep them dry. Bowdre’s right foot and ankle had begun to swell, and he removed his boot while he could still get it off. Amid the continued fury of the storm, the men fought to control the horses. Lightning flared almost continuously, and it was in this eerie light that they first saw the grisly apparition.

“Madre de Dios!” Yavapai shouted. “The bones walk.”

The macabre thing—a skeleton, bleached white—emerged from the brush to the south of the canyon and proceeded to cross it. The skeleton’s feet, moving in an erratic, shambling gait, never touched the ground. Occasionally it paused, seeming to frolic in a strange dance all its own. Just before the bony spectacle reached the brush along the south wall of the canyon, the lightning began to diminish. After a few seconds of utter darkness the lightning flared again, but the ghastly specter was gone.

“God Almighty,” said Three-Fingered Joe in awe, “I ain’t never seen nothin’ like that. Not even halfway through a three-day drunk.”

“Lawd God,” Mose Fowler groaned, “if daylight ever come, I be gone.”

“Sangre de Christo,” said Sanchez, “El Diablo make the bones to walk.”

“El Diablo, hell,” scoffed Gary Davis. “A cheap trick. Somebody’s tryin’ to spook us. Come daylight, I’ll prove it.”

“Why you not prove it now?” Sanchez asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

“Everybody just shut the hell up,” Bowdre bawled. “Nobody leaves without I say so. Now scare up some wood, get a fire goin’, and boil some water. I’m hurtin’.”

“Per’ap there be Indios,” Sanchez said. “They see fire, they come.”

“By God, let the varmints come,” said Bowdre savagely.

The storm had passed, but the sky remained cloudy, allowing Dallas and Kelly to take the horses and mules from the concealed camp with little risk of being seen.

“Grass is gettin’ mighty thin,” Dallas said.

“I know,” said Kelly, “and with Arlo and Kelsey laid up, we’ll lose some time. All those hours I kept trying to get Kelsey to sweat, I’ve been sweating too. Let’s sit on the grass a little while before we go back.”

“The grass is wet,” Dallas said.

“I don’t care. Stand if you want, but I’m sitting.”

“I just said the grass is wet,” he laughed, sitting beside her. “I didn’t say I wasn’t goin’ to join you.”

“It’s like another world out here,” she said, as they watched the few twinkling lights of town. “It must be three in the morning. Whose lights burn this late?”

“Saloons, I reckon,” said Dallas.

“Did you like running a saloon?”

“It was easy work,” Dallas said. “We just poured the drinks, collected the money, and watched a bunch of damn fools set there gettin’ owl-eyed. No, I didn’t much like bein’ a saloonkeeper, but there was parts of it that wasn’t bad—like havin’ a regular place to sleep, a roof over my head. It’s the longest I ever stayed in one place.”

“I know Arlo was teasing you about rebuilding the saloon, but what do you plan to do once we’ve found the gold?”

“Depends,” he said.

“On what?” Kelly asked.

“On you, I reckon. I know we’ve been here just a little while, without much time together, but it’s plumb ruint me for the old fiddle-foot days on the long trail.”

“I’ll tell you a secret,” said Kelly, moving closer. “Arlo has the same problem. While we were waiting for Kelsey’s fever to break, he was more afraid than I was.”

“Arlo and Kelsey—have an understanding,” Dallas said. “I can tell they’re both thinkin’ beyond this search for the mine, and that’s why I … why I …”

“You want to think beyond it too,” said Kelly.

“Yes,” Dallas said. “When we find the gold, I don’t want to go my way, while you go yours. I don’t want it to be the end … for us.”

“It won’t be the end for us,” said Kelly, “nor for Arlo and Kelsey. There’s nothing for Kelsey and me in Missouri, so we have no place to go. Unless …”

He removed all doubt, pulling her to him in the wet grass, and for a long moment they clung together. At last he helped her to her feet, and they climbed to their camp near the rim.

With the addition of Yavapai, Sanchez, and Gary Davis, Cass Bowdre’s outfit totaled ten men, including Bowdre himself. He split the outfit into teams of three men, assigning them to watches for the rest of the night.

“Just be damn sure them bosses are there at the beginnin’ and end of each watch,” Bowdre said. “If them Apaches rob us again, then I aim to raise nine kinds of hell with whoever’s responsible.”

“Davis knows what he’s talkin’ about,” said Pod Os-teen. “We got more agin us than just Injuns. Come daylight, I’m goin’ down to where that bunch of bones waltzed across the canyon and look for sign.”

“Davis ain’t bossin’ this outfit,” Bowdre said angrily, “and this ain’t no damn spook hunt. We’re here for gold, and we ain’t wastin’ time lookin’ for anything else.”

“Si,” Sanchez agreed. “We not look for the walking bones, and per’ap they not look for us.”

“Lawd, no,” said Mose Fowler. “Let ’em rest in pieces.”

Pod Osteen turned on Bowdre. “You aim to set here with a sore hind leg, I reckon, while the rest of us scat around, follerin’ your orders.”

Bowdre sat with his back against a stone, his thumb hooked in his belt, inches above the butt of his Colt. In a cold, flint-hard voice he spoke.

“Yeah, that’s what I aim to do, until I can do better.”

While it was a statement, it was also a challenge, and every man knew it. A line had been drawn, and Cass Bowdre was prepared to kill the man who crossed it. Pod Osteen said nothing, and with nobody else taking up the argument, the moment passed.

Gary Davis, although he found himself without authority and taking orders from Cass Bowdre, was secretly pleased. There was animosity within the ranks of Bowdre’s outfit, and Davis set his devious mind to the task of finding a means by which he might harness the gathering storm, and direct it to his own advantage.

Dawn came and Kelsey Logan slept soundly. When Kelly changed her dressing, the wound didn’t seem inflamed. Though Arlo could scarcely stand because of the soreness, his leg wound also showed no sign of infection. It was to him that Dallas spoke.

“Kelly and me ought to take some torches and explore that other passage that angles off the main tunnel. The one Hoss calls safe. I don’t think we ought to lose any time. This new bunch of gold-hungry coyotes that’s moved in will either start lookin’ for us or they’ll begin searchin’ these passages. Maybe both.”

“Go ahead,” said Arlo, “but don’t be surprised if that passage runs into another. If you take a second or third, be sure to find some way to mark your path. There may be miles of these tunnels, and you could become so lost we’d never find you. Be sure you stay out of any passage where Hoss didn’t leave a sign.”

Hoss Logan had brought in several sections of resinous pine logs, and from one of these, Dallas cut a large supply of long slivers. He separated the pine pitch torches into two bundles, binding them with rawhide, one for Kelly and one for himself. Finally, they set out to explore yet another tunnel Hoss had marked as safe.

“One thing bothers me,” said Kelly, as she and Dallas made their way down the long tunnel to the bottom of the mountain. “Suppose that bunch that went after Arlo and Kelsey should return to the top of the mountain to look for our camp? And suppose they find it, with Arlo and Kelsey there wounded?”

“It’s a chance we’ll have to take,” Dallas said. “Even if they caught all of us in camp, it’s no place to put up a fight. With stone all around, a ricochet could be deadly. The most important thing is that they don’t grab all of us. Don’t worry, Arlo won’t take any chances on gettin’ himself and Kelsey shot. Even if they’re discovered, we’ll still be free, and Arlo would buy some time, lookin’ to us for help.”

Dallas and Kelly followed their downward path until it ended in the high-domed cavern from which two other passages led. One ran to the outside at the eastern foot of the mountain, where Cass Bowdre and his men had lost their horses the night before. The second angled deeper into the mountain, Hoss Logan’s trio of wooden pegs attesting to its safety.

“Perhaps this one will take us to the mine,” Kelly said.

“I doubt it,” said Dallas. “Arlo and me don’t believe Hoss would have set up his camp so near the gold. Over the centuries, with volcanoes shiftin’ the innards of these mountains around, there may be caves and tunnels under them all. A man like Hoss, who spent all of twenty years in the Superstitions and managed to stay alive, might have discovered his gold beneath one of the mountains.”

“Going to and from it by way of these passages that connect to each other,” said Kelly.

“That’s what I think,” Dallas said. “Some of the movement must have unearthed the gold Hoss found. That would also explain why it hadn’t been found sooner.”

“That’s scary,” said Kelly. “The earth could shift again, burying the gold all over again, and us with it.”

“It might,” Dallas agreed. “What I don’t understand is why Hoss never mentioned the tunnels and caves to Arlo and me. We spent most of two weeks with him right here in these mountains, and not once did he mention going underground.”

“That would have been before he found the gold,” said Kelly. “It was the last time we saw him.”

“It fits what I remember,” Dallas said. “He had just come back from Missouri when he asked Arlo and me to ride into the Superstitions with him. It was almost … well, like he had something on his mind, something he wanted to tell us or show us. But then he seemed to have decided against it.”

“He knew there was big trouble between Mother and Daddy,” said Kelly. “They had a terrible fight, and Uncle Henry left sooner than he planned to.”

“From what you’ve just told me,” Dallas replied, “I’d have to disagree with you as to the time Hoss found the gold. I think he’d already found it the last time you and Kelsey saw him. Was that when he learned about Gary Davis and your mother?”

“Yes. That’s what Mother and Daddy were fighting about.”

“That would account for Hoss not saying anything about the gold,” said Dallas. “He wanted to see how Gary Davis was going to fit into things. He must have felt the need to talk, to confide in somebody, but he couldn’t quite get up the nerve to talk to Arlo and me about some-thin’ so touchy. Then when his health went bad, he had to turn to somebody, and we were his friends.”

“It breaks my heart,” said Kelly, “dunking of him alone in his last days, not knowing if his wishes would be attended to. But when Daddy was killed. Uncle Henry would have known he’d done the right thing, wouldn’t he?”

“I’m sure he felt that way,” Dallas said, “or he wouldn’t have drawn Arlo and me into this. He knew we’d play fair with you and Kelsey, and I just wish he’d had the nerve to talk to us while he could. It would have made everything so much simpler, and we might never have gotten Gary Davis out here, alerting the whole country to the gold.”

“I think Uncle Henry wanted Gary Davis here,” said Kelly. “Why else would he have sent us the map, knowing Davis would get his hands on it?”

“Strange logic,” Dallas said, “but it seems to fit. Davis is the kind that will likely have to be shot before this is done. If not by Arlo or me, then by one of that bunch of sidewinders he’s ridin’ with. However he gets it, I reckon Hoss was countin’ on that. Let’s fire up some pine and see what this new passage can tell us.”

* * *

Cass Bowdre and his men sat around their breakfast fire drinking coffee. Gary Davis, Yavapai, and Sanchez, while part of the group, had separated themselves from the others.

“Startin’ today,” said Bowdre, “we’re goin’ into the caves and tunnels. Any man that don’t agree with that can saddle up and ride.”

His hard eyes were on Yavapai, Sanchez, and the nervous Mose Fowler. The superstitious trio looked at him and swallowed hard but said nothing.

“Somewhere beneath the rim of that first mountain,” Pod Osteen said, “the one facin’ town—this Wells and Holt has got a camp. We proved that yesterday. Why ain’t we goin’ back up there and lookin’ around?”

“Because Wells and Holt ain’t holed up in camp,” said Bowdre, “and us findin’ them won’t tell us a damn thing. They’re searchin’ the tunnels under these mountains, and that’s exactly what we’re goin’ to do.”

“Sounds like a standoff,” Three-Fingered Joe said. “They’ll have a light and we’ll have a light. Can’t be no gunplay. With solid rock all around us, ricochet lead would cut us all to ribbons.”

“No call for gunplay till somebody finds the gold,” said Bowdre. “But you’re right. Them tunnels ain’t no place for a gunfight. When it’s time to burn powder, it’ll have to be an almighty short ruckus. Whoever has the advantage will win the fight and the gold. Keep that in mind when the showdown comes.”

“I’m promisin’ you one damn thing,” said Zondo Carp. “When some coyote cuts down on me, I’m shootin’ back, ricochet or not.”

There was a chorus of agreement from the others.

“All right,” Bowdre growled, “but them other jaspers will likely feel the same way, and somebody’s gonna git shot to doll rags.”

“Won’t be you, though,” said Pod Osteen maliciously. “You got a swole-up foot and can’t go.”

“No,” Gary Davis cut in, “but I can, and I will. Has anybody got guts enough to go with me? Bowdre, pick two or three men to stay with you to see to the horses and grub. The rest—them with sand enough, that is—will go with me into those tunnels.”

Bowdre grinned in spite of himself. While he hated Davis, he had to admire the way the man flung down a challenge. Bowdre chose Yavapai, Sanchez, and Mose Fowler to remain with the horses. Maybe the superstitious Mexicans and the spirit-conscious Negro would be less afraid once the rest of the men returned from their quest unharmed.

“Who’s ramroddin’ this party?” Pod Osteen demanded, his eyes on Gary Davis.

“You are,” said Davis, “for all I care. I’ll side you, as long as you don’t pull some fool stunt that’ll get us all killed.”

“By God, I’ll ride with mat,” Eldon Sandoval said.

The others agreed, for me first time looking upon Davis with some approval. He noted the obvious friction between Bowdre and Osteen. He was satisfied that a carefully fanned spark might produce a useful flame.

“We’ll leave the camp where it is,” said Bowdre. “Keep track of the time, and pull out of that mountain before dark. Don’t leave just the four of us to face the Apaches come night.”

Pod Osteen looked at Bowdre with some amusement, but resisted the obvious temptation to speak. Instead, he went to me resinous pine log he’d found and began peeling off long slivers with his Bowie. He aimed to have enough pine torches to last me day. At last they were ready, and me six of them—Three-Fingered Joe, Zondo Carp, Os Ellerton, Eldon Sandoval, Gary Davis, and Pod Osteen—set out for the mysterious passage at me foot of the mountain.

Dallas and Kelly proceeded along the new passage, which gradually grew steeper as it began to curve.

“I have the feeling we’re on our way to another mountain,” Dallas said. “This passage angles away from the others, and now it’s turning even more, and in the same direction.”

“Steep as it is,” said Kelly, “we must be headed for the top of the mountain. Maybe we’ll come out at some point where we can see well enough to get our bearings. I’d like to know where we are in relation to the other mountains.”

The first break in the wall was no more than a crevice, narrow and not even head-high. Dallas and Kelly carefully examined the wall on each side of the split but found nothing.

“Thank God Uncle Henry didn’t mark that one,” Kelly said. “I’d hate to try and get into it or out of it.”

Their passage continued, the way growing steeper, with no alternate tunnels. Much of the stone walls were encrusted with gray-green lichen, so they almost overlooked the crude drawings.

“Look,” Kelly cried.

Barely visible in the pale light from their torch was a “stick” man, and the head of another. Dallas brushed away the lichen, revealing the crude likeness of a horse.

“Old Indian drawings,” said Kelly.

“Maybe,” Dallas said. He continued to brush the surface of the stone, revealing two more horses in a line behind the first. But that was all.

“They’re no help to us,” Kelly said. “They’ve been here hundreds of years.”

“The man and the first horse, maybe,” said Dallas, “but the second and third horses are different from the first. They’re fatter, and they’ve been here just long enough for the stone to moss over. Look at the outline of the old Indian horse. It’s almost faded out, while the outlines of the other two are still plain.”

Excited now, Kelly took her bandanna and began to rub the stone flanks of the second and third horses. Slowly a series of tiny dots that had been chiseled into the stone emerged.

“Dear God,” Kelly cried, “it’s the spotted ponies! He remembered them!”

“Yes,” said Dallas, “and he counted on you and Kelsey remembering, too.”

“Then this is the passage to the mine!”

“Maybe,” Dallas said, “but I doubt it. Hoss just wanted us to know we’re goin’ the right way. Now you’d better take some dirt and hide the spotted horses again. Gary Davis might remember them too, especially if it’s obvious we’ve cleaned that part of the wall.”

“Perhaps they won’t get this far.”

“They will,” said Dallas. “They know we’re in the tunnels, and by now they’ve decided if there’s any gold, it’ll be down one of these passages.”

“Then let’s go on as far as we can. At least to the end of this one.”

When it seemed they must be nearing the very top of the mountain, the passage suddenly turned to a steep descent.

“Here,” Dallas said, “take my hand. We may be headed for another of those drop-offs where a stretch of the floor’s gone.”

When they eventually reached the chasm it was more formidable than anything their wildest imagination might have conceived. First there was a faraway sound of rushing water, and as they drew closer, they heard an eerie echo.

“There’s our underground river again,” said Dallas, “and I’d say we’re in for a damn unpleasant surprise. Hoss tried to ease the blow with the spotted horses. I reckon he must have thought we’d need some encouragement, because there may be somethin’ ahead that’ll scare the hell out of us.”