HisBootsUnderHerBed (7 page)

“I’ve had worse challenges and managed to stay alive, Father. I survived four years of war when those around me were falling in battle, and I came to California from Virginia. I can’t imagine anything harder than that trek across the Rocky Mountains.” Garth shook his head. “After all that, why should a single mountain present a challenge to me?”

The priest walked to the window and gazed at the distant mountain peak.

“Because, my son, you will not be challenging a single mountain; the mountain will be challenging you. Many have climbed it, never to be seen again. It is called Montaña del Diablo.”

He turned around and looked at Garth. “Mountain of the Devil.”

A
single lantern atop the gatepost of the mission glowed like a beacon in the darkness that encompassed the town. Inside the mission, Father Chavez and Elena whispered in the deep shadows of the wall.

“He must be warned, mi hermana,” Chavez murmured. “Tell him there can be no delay. He must go at once.”

Elena nodded, and after wrapping a shawl around her head and shoulders, she slipped through the gate and was swallowed by the night.

Father Chavez returned to the rectory and stole quietly across the floor. First the O’Grady couple, and now the arrival of Garth Fraser. It could all lead to disaster. He frowned in thought.
Are not we told that what we sow, we reap?
The walls of Jericho had begun to tumble.

“Mountain of the Devil,” Garth murmured as he lay with his hands tucked under his head. “What kind of bullshit is that?” Having accepted Father Chavez’s offer to spend the night, he was unable to sleep as the priest’s ominous warning played on his mind.

Never one to dwell on superstitions, he now found himself at odds with a tenet he’d always lived by: when it was your time to go, it would happen whether you were in your bed or the middle of a battlefield.

If all of this portentous legend was to be believed, then how had his uncle made repeated trips without incident between his mine and the mission? And even though ill with consumption, he had managed to reach the mission unmolested before he died.

More than likely, a few accidental deaths had been magnified into those
mysterious disappearances
.

Now the O’Gradys had ventured onto that mysterious mountain, and he had a score to settle with them—especially Miss Rory O’Grady. She was the only one he had told about the map. What had driven her to steal it? Hadn’t he told her that he’d give her half of everything, in gratitude for helping keep him from being shanghaied? Greed was so ugly.

He turned over on his side. He was so disappointed in her. Experienced in the ways of women, he had believed her to be a naïve, even innocent young woman, despite the tough façade she tried to present. He’d thought her the vulnerable victim of a conniving father and the cruel hand that fate had dealt her.

Was he ever mistaken! She was as much of a schemer as her father. Deep in his heart, he had hoped she would have resisted such temptation.

Garth yawned and closed his eyes. When he caught up with her and Paddy, come hell or high water, he would get Uncle Henry’s mine back.

After another half hour of restless tossing, Garth got up, pulled on his trousers, and went outside to catch a breath of fresh air. The dog trotted over to him, and Garth patted his head.

“Guess we’ll be parting company in the morning, pal,” he said.

The night was quiet, and his gaze was drawn to the nearby mountain. Moonlight cast its eerie outline into a shimmering specter, its snow capped peak disappearing into the darkened sky above.

“Looks to me like the mountain is reaching to Heaven, not down to Hell, pal,” he said.

How could an educated and holy man believe that an evil force inhabited the mountain? If you believed that, you could say the same about any mountain.

He thought of how many poor souls perished crossing the Rockies when they came west. Or what about the Matterhorn in Europe, or the Himalayas in Asia? The plain truth was, the hazards of scaling a mountain had always been a challenge to man. And when one perished in the attempt, a myth or mystical speculation was often attached to the misadventure.

“Death is as common as birth, pal. People die daily from accidents and illnesses. When one drowns, no one blames the river. If one perishes in a fire, no one puts the forest to blame. But let someone die climbing a mountain, and another myth is born.

“Mountain of the Devil, my ass! A mountain is just an obstacle in one’s path—not a breeding ground for evil spirits.”

As for the danger of bandits, well, cities were rife with murderers, thieves, rapists, and other two-legged vermin like the two sons of bitches who’d tried to shanghai him.

“Pal, I’d be sitting on some damn ship in the middle of the ocean right now if it hadn’t been for…”

Damn it. Why did she have to turn out to be no better than them?

Despite the restless night, Garth had awakened early and was saddling Boots when Father Chavez approached leading a burro.

“Since I cannot convince you to forsake this foolish venture, my friend, you will have need of a burro.”

Garth chuckled. “No doubt to carry back all of the gold I will find.”

“You would probably profit more by selling the burro.”

“Oh, ye of little faith, Father. Thanks very much for the offer, but I prefer traveling light.”

“You joke, but it is good to hear you are a man of faith, Garth. Even if it isn’t Catholic,” he added with a merry twinkle in his eyes. “But I think you would find Samuel here to be more surefooted than your horse.”

“Don’t listen to him, Boots. We know better, don’t we?” Garth said, giving a final tug to the cinch.

“Well, I guess I’m all set.” The two men shook hands. “I can’t thank you enough, Father Chavez. I hope one day I can repay you for all the help you’ve been.”

“You can do so by returning safely, my friend.”

Garth mounted. “One more thing, Father. I hate to take advantage of your generosity, but would you find a home for the dog? I feel kind of responsible for him.”

Father Chavez glanced at the dog who had now risen, and he grinned. “It would appear the perro believes he has already found a home. I told you that you had made a friend for life. Go with God, Garth Fraser.”

Father Chavez sighed deeply as he stood at the gate and watched Garth ride away to whatever destiny the mountain held for him.

Once out of the foothills the climb steepened, and the trail sometimes narrowed to no more than a footpath.

Garth knew he was near his destination, but since dusk had begun to move in, he decided to stop for the night and get an early start in the morning.

The sound of a rifle blast bounced from one granite crag to another like a ricocheting bullet. Automatically he dove for cover. Several more shots followed, and Garth realized he was not under fire; the sound was coming from the trail up ahead. He tethered Boots to a tree, then tied the dog, too.

Grabbing his rifle, he cautiously moved up to where the trail widened into a small, flat, plateaulike area. Overrun with foliage, the site was bordered by the granite wall of the mountain on the inside and some scattered fir trees and huge boulders on the outer edge.

Garth crept close for a better view. Rory and Paddy were pinned down behind a huge boulder. Three armed bandits were closing in on them, and another was untying the O’Gradys’ mules and burro. That was the bandit he took out first, but his shot attracted the other three, and they immediately turned their attention in his direction.

At that moment he saw another bandit, who’d been concealed in the shrubbery, sneaking up behind Rory and Paddy. Garth’s shot found its mark, and that bandit fell to the ground.

Unfortunately the flash of the shot had revealed his position to the others, and a barrage of bullets smacked around him. He dashed to the cover of a tree, and the three remaining outlaws advanced on him. Garth had another one of them trained in his sights, but when he pulled the trigger, the rifle clicked on an empty chamber.

He drew his pistol and got off a lethal shot, but before he could get off another, one of the bandits leaped at him and sank a knife into his shoulder. The pistol slipped through his fingers and he grabbed his attacker’s hand, which was raised to deliver another thrust of the knife.

As they wrestled to gain control of the weapon, Garth could feel his strength waning. Rallying whatever strength remained, he slowly twisted the attacker’s hand clutching the knife and succeeded in plunging it into the man’s heart. He shoved the dead man aside, only to look up into the wrong end of the rifle pointed at his head.

With a malicious smile, the remaining bandit snarled, “Adiós, amigo.”

A shot rang out, and for the breathless length of a heartbeat, the outlaw’s stunned expression gazed down at him. Then the rifle slipped through his fingers and he pitched forward.

Garth sat up, rolled the man over, and stared into the lifeless eyes that only seconds before had gleamed with mercilessness.

Too shocked to move, for a few seconds he sat bewildered. He’d had many close shaves during the war, but this was the first time he had actually looked death in the face. Finally, after reclaiming his Colt and empty rifle, he got to his feet. He felt woozy and his knees threatened to buckle as he reloaded the rifle, then made his way over to the two people still huddled behind the rock.

“Garth!” Rory cried out joyously. “Pop, look it’s Garth Fraser.” Then, seeing the condition he was in, she exclaimed, “Oh, God, you’re bleeding!”

He sure as hell was, and he sank down on a nearby log to attempt to stem it with his bandanna.

Rory rushed over to him with saddlebags. “Let’s get that shirt off you.”

“Fancy meeting you here, Miss O’Grady. Did you choose to come to the mountains for the summer?”

“Actually I was against this whole idea,” she said, slipping the shirt off his arm. “But as long as we had the map, Pop was determined to check it out.”

“Your frankness is refreshing, Miss O’Grady, considering your previous deceit.”

“Deceit?” she asked, perplexed. “Oh, I suppose you mean about the map.”

“Got to hand it to you, lady. There’s that intuition of yours kicking in again,” he said sarcastically. “You had me convinced you weren’t interested in gold mines, and I actually thought that crooked sheriff had stolen my map. Instead, it was none other than little Miss Innocent O’Grady.”

She gaped at him in surprise, like the actress he knew her to be. “But I didn’t…” She cut off what she was about to say when Paddy came over and joined them.

“How bad is the lad hurt?” Paddy asked.

“Not too bad. The wound isn’t very deep, and the bleeding helps to flush the wound. Lord knows what else that knife’s been used for. Shouldn’t be a problem unless it becomes infected,” Rory said.

“Ouch,” Garth yelped when she poured some whiskey into the wound.

Paddy patted him on the shoulder. “We’re beholden to you, me boy.” Then he moved away and went over to a tree and slumped down against it.

“He doesn’t look too good. Was he wounded?” Garth asked.

“No. The climb up here has exhausted him.”

“That was a great shot he made. That bastard had my head in the sight of his rifle.”

“What are you talking about?” Rory asked.

“When he shot the bandit who was about to kill me.”

“Pop didn’t shoot him. His rifle was out of bullets.” She folded a napkin into a square, and tied it in place with his bandanna. “There, that should do it.”

Garth looked confused. “Then who in hell shot him?”

Rory shrugged. “It wasn’t one of us.”

Garth drew his pistol. “I better check to make sure all of those guys are dead. Maybe one of them is still alive; I counted five altogether.”

“You wouldn’t harm a wounded man, would you?” she asked.

“No, I’d set him free so he could come back to shoot at us again.” Disgusted, he walked away, checked out the bodies, then pulled them into a pile.

“Good-bye, Miss O’Grady. It’s been a pleasure, as usual.”

She chased after him. “What should we do about the bodies?”

“Elementary, Miss O’Grady. Let them lie, and you and your father get your asses back down that trail.”

“You know we can’t do that. Pop’s too ill right now.”

“Then drag them over to the rim and push them over.”

“I’m a Christian, Mr. Fraser, and believe every man deserves a decent burial.”

“Then start digging.”

She hurried to keep up with his long stride. “The least you could do is help. You’re the one who shot them.”

“Consider this, ma’am: if I hadn’t shot them, they’d have shot you, then I’d be burying you and your father. That is, after they all got through with
you
.”

“You certainly had me fooled,” Rory said, chasing after him when he marched away, disgruntled. “Are you really as coldhearted as you sound?”

“I wasn’t until I met you, lady.” He walked away, leaving her staring at him with an astonished look on that lovely face that he had once considered so beautiful.

Rory had another problem to resolve. She went over to her father. “You lied to me, didn’t you, Pop? You didn’t find that map; you stole it from Garth Fraser.”

“Now, now, don’t go getting all worked up, darlin’. I didn’t steal it. The map fell on the floor when he and McGill were fighting. All I did was pick it up. And you know as well as I do, that crooked sheriff would never have given it back to him.”

“I don’t believe you. Why did you lie to me, Pop?”

“Because just as I suspected, you wouldn’t believe the truth.”

“I might have believed you back then. I don’t believe you now.”

“Besides, the man owed it to you for saving his life.”

“Garth thinks that I
stole
the map!”