Skeleton Lode (26 page)

“Uh …. congratulations,” Silas stammered. “Arlo … what about …”

“Arlo’s goin’ with us on the honeymoon,” Dallas cut in, trying not to look at Silas. “We look to save all kinds of money takin’ just one hotel room. We’ll need some half-inch rope. Make it eight hundred feet, and cut it into four lengths of two hundred feet each. Besides that, we want five gallons of coal oil, two lanterns, ten pounds of coffee beans, and four quarts of whiskey.”

“A gallon of whiskey, then,” said Silas.

“A gallon,” Dallas said, “but in four one-quart bottles.”

Silas looked doubtfully at Dallas, wondering if all this was some kind of joke at his expense. But Dallas never changed expression, and Kelly forced herself to look equally serious. Silas began gathering their order. When it was ready, Dallas paid, and they departed without a word or a backward look.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” Kelly laughed, once they were outside. “You shocked the poor old fellow so badly, he couldn’t think of anything to say.”

“Only enough that he forgot to question us,” said Dallas, “and that was the idea. The very last thing we needed was questions about the mine. If I’d
really
wanted to shock him, I’d have told him that Arlo and me was
rebuildin’ the Gila Saloon and you was one of the whores who’d be workin’ upstairs.”

“Don’t push your luck, cowboy.”

Dallas divided the load between his horse and Kelly’s. They rode out as they had come in, until they were out of sight of Tortilla Flat. It was Kelly who finally spoke.

“We should have brought one of the mules.”

“Won’t need one,” said Dallas. “We ain’t goin’ that far.”

“We’re not taking this back to the mountains?”

“No use packin’ it up the mountain only to haul it down again,” Dallas said. “Since we plan to move the camp, I think we’ll take this on to Hoss’s cabin and leave it there. It’ll be safe enough until we return.”

“Do you think Arlo will agree to us leaving the mountains and moving back to Uncle Henry’s cabin?”

“Yes,” Dallas said, “for several reasons. Mostly because our camp won’t be safe when the others who are searching for the mine take to the underground. Besides that, we’re going to need some time for Arlo and Kelsey to heal, and that means some protection from the elements. See that mass of clouds to the west? There’s another storm buildin’, if not today, then tomorrow. With any luck, we can find the mine before Davis and that bunch of coyotes he’s throwed in with discover we’ve moved back to the cabin.”

Cass Bowdre was worried. Despite his callous declaration that he didn’t care if Gary Davis was lost somewhere beneath the Superstitions, he was shaken when Pod Osteen handed him the hat Davis had been wearing. It was a bad omen. While Osteen’s arrogance hadn’t diminished in the slightest, the men who had accompanied him were subdued. When they spoke, it was with doubt and some fear.

“I ain’t sure Davis is lost in that mountain,” said Sandoval. “I’ll never get so damn lost I can’t pick up my hat.”

“Me neither,” said Three-Fingered Joe. “Suppose we
foller the rest of them tunnels and don’t find hide nor hair of Davis?”

“You will find no sign of the Señor Davis,” Sanchez said. “Per’ap then you believe the Thunder God lives.”

“I’ve had a bellyful of the Thunder God,” Osteen snorted, “and I’m layin’ down a new rule. Once we find the gold, I ain’t sharin’ it with them that’s too damn cowardly to help search for it. Now if there’s any man that don’t like that, let him speak his piece an’ do it now.”

Nobody spoke. Every man’s eyes were on Cass Bowdre. It was a hard decision and a direct challenge to Bowdre’s leadership. It was going to cost Osteen. But the Apache threat to them all was very real, and he relied on that. But Cass Bowdre couldn’t allow them to see even a hint of intimidation, and he turned hard eyes on Osteen.

“As I recall. Pod,” said Bowdre, “when the Apaches grabbed our hosses, you done your share of hell-raisin’. Now, if I understand your gripe, you want every man looking for gold, again leavin’ our horses to the mercy of the Injuns. Is that what you’re sayin’. Pod?”

“By God,” Osteen shouted, “I’m sayin’ the same hombres don’t set on their hunkers ever’ day, while the rest of us search them passages under the mountains.”

“What the hell difference does it make who watches the hosses?” Bowdre demanded. “Since you don’t believe in the Thunder God, how can searching under the mountains be as risky as gettin’ your gut shot full of Apache arrows? You’re up against just one Thunder God, while the three men left with the hosses might have to face God knows how many Apaches.”

“Damn good point,” said Three-Fingered Joe. “I ain’t sure about this old Thunder God, but them Apaches is real enough to suit me.”

There was nervous laughter, but surprisingly the men stood by Cass Bowdre, leaving Pod Osteen furious. He glared at them all in surly silence, aware that Bowdre had once again bested him and unsure what he might do in retaliation.

Two hours before sundown, Dallas and Kelly returned to their camp below the rim, and Dallas explained to Arlo his reasons for leaving their new purchases at Hoss’s cabin.

“Good thinking,” Arlo said. “We should have discussed that before you rode out. If they’re goin’ into the passages with ropes, it means they’ve reached that big hole above the underground river. Once they’ve crossed that, found nothing, and crossed it again, they’ll be ready to follow the main tunnel into the mountain. As soon as tomorrow, they could be in the shaft that’ll bring them to where we are right now. We don’t have any time to spare in getting out of here.”

“We’d better move on out and head for the cabin right now,” Dallas said. “The storm that’s on the way ought to be here sometime tonight, and it’ll eliminate our tracks.”

While the ride wasn’t a long one, Kelsey was gritting her teeth before they reached the cabin. Arlo helped the girl to dismount and got her inside.

“There’s only three bunks,” said Dallas, “but it’s not likely we’ll be here long enough for that to be a problem. The important thing is, we’ll have a roof over our heads. We’re goin’ to need it.”

Sundown was still an hour away, but the sun had slipped behind a growing mass of gray thunderheads and a cool west wind brought the feel of rain.

“Now that we’re out of the Superstitions,” Kelly said, “I feel kind of … well, free. I didn’t notice it too much while we were there, but it was like the mountains had
some kind of control over us, some hold that was broken only by our leaving.”

“There is somethin’ about the Superstitions that draws you to them,” said Arlo. “Dallas and me never understood why Hoss went back again and again when he never found even a trace of color. I remember him sayin’ that you’re always a little uneasy, there in the Superstitions, but when you’re away from them, you miss them. Then, when you return, you’re never exactly sure as to why.”

“I believe our coming to these mountains brought us closer to Uncle Henry,” said Kelsey, “and even if we never find the gold, I’m glad we came. With or without the gold, I’d like to spend the rest of my life in the shadow of the Superstitions. I want to see them at sunset, ever changing, and then by starlight, or beneath a full moon. I just feel like I’ve been away for a long time, and now I … I’ve come home.”

“I reckon Hoss would be pleased,” Dallas said, “but not surprised.”

Not daring to leave their horses to the mercy of the elements and the Apaches, Cass Bowdre and his men had again made their camp against the east wall of the mountain where they’d weathered the previous night’s storm. Everybody—even Pod Osteen—was silent. They couldn’t afford the luxury of bickering now, for the impending storm was spooking the horses, and holding them had become increasingly difficult. The thunder rumbled closer, and while the lightning hadn’t yet become a danger, its eerie dance across the horizon was a harbinger of the fury to come. Bowdre and his companions, the violence of the last storm strong in their minds, eyed the darkening sky with growing apprehension.

“We’re in for a hell of a blow,” said Sandoval. “This would be a good time for the Apaches to come after us.”

Nobody bothered with a response, but it was a sobering thought. Once the lightning became continuous—and there was every evidence it would—they would all
be outlined against the side of the mountain—perfect targets. It could become a perilous situation, where a man might lose his horse, his hair, or both. The lightning, Bowdre noticed, was building up to truly terrifying proportions. That, he hoped, might be the thing that would intimidate the Apaches.

“She’s gonna throw some mean lightning at us,” he voiced, “and that might work, for us. If the Injuns do come after us, forget the hosses and fight like hell. There’s worse things than losin’ a hoss. Like gainin’ an arrow in your belly.”

Soon the entire canyon before them was bathed in an almost continuous eerie light. Without warning, the macabre skeleton appeared, shambling across the canyon, as it had before.

“Madre de Dios,”
Yavapai shouted. “Again the bones walk!”

Pod Osteen foolishly drew his Colt and began firing at the apparition, sending the already skittish horses into a new frenzy of rearing and nickering.

“Damnit,” Bowdre roared, “hold your fire!”

By the time they had calmed the horses, the lightning had begun to subside, and the bony apparition had again crossed the rain-swept canyon and disappeared. Ignoring his still painful foot, Bowdre snatched a fistful of Os-teen’s shirt as his right hand drew and cocked his Colt. Brutally he rammed the cold muzzle of the weapon into Osteen’s nose, and a shower of blood mingled with the driving rain streaming down Pod’s face.

“By God,” Bowdre snarled, “I ought to kill you.”

Osteen’s life hung in the balance, and nobody was more aware of it than he, for the fear in his eyes was genuine. Disgusted, Bowdre flung the man away, and he fell on his back in the mud. The wind was dying now, and the rain was settling into a steady downpour. The mountain’s rim had enough overhang so that their packs and bedrolls had been protected, and there was enough room for them to sleep dry.

“Two watches,” Bowdre ordered. “I’ll take the first, along with Os and Eldon. You’re part of it too, Osteen.”

The insult was obvious. Bowdre distrusted Osteen to the extent that he refused to sleep with the man on watch. The rest of them—those who would take the second watch—turned to their bedrolls to get what sleep they could.

The cabin Hoss Logan had built was sturdy and dry. An occasional gust down the chimney blew smoke into the room, as the storm-bred wind rattled sheets of rain against the log walls and the shake roof.

Dallas laughed. “I’d bet my saddle that bunch up yonder in the Superstitions is havin’ one hell of a night.”

“Plenty of shelter,” Arlo said, “and they don’t dare take advantage of it, lest Apaches grab their horses.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” said Kelly, “but when will you and Dallas go into the chasm to the underground river?”

“I’d like to go tomorrow,” Arlo said, “but I reckon I’d better give this wound another day. This would be a poor time to have a leg give out on me. I feel a mite uneasy, both of us goin’ and leaving you and Kelsey here alone. But a man’s got no business going into the Superstitions by himself. I’m counting on us finding our way into and out of that river before Davis and that bunch in the mountains figure out what’s goin’ on. They eventually will, when they find nothing in the tunnels beneath the mountains.”

“We’ll feel better taking our chances here alone,” said Kelsey, “than in having just one of you go back into those mountains. With Gary Davis in the mountains, what could happen to us here?”

“I don’t know,” Arlo said. “Nothing, I hope. Anyway, we won’t be leaving you alone at night. I just don’t believe Hoss would send us down that bluff unless there’s some better way in and out. If we start early, we may find it in a day. Then we can be done with this.”

“Oh, and I do want us to be done with this!” Kelly
cried. “But what happens if … when … we find the gold?”

“We’ll file a claim,” said Arlo, “and leave that greedy bunch of coyotes up there in the mountains wondering what happened.”

“I’m afraid that won’t stop them from coming after us,” Kelsey said.

“Maybe not,” said Dallas, “but we’ll have a legal claim, and that has us within the law. We can hire us some pistoleros and gun the varmints down if they won’t have it any other way.”

“Dear God,” Kelly said, “that would be barbaric, us killing people just to hold on to a gold claim.”

“We don’t know it will come to that,” Arlo said, “but would it be any less terrible if we allowed them to kill us and take a claim that in no way belongs to them? Hell, these varmints will steal us blind if they can. What kind of justice is that?”

“You’re right,” Kelly sighed. “This is the West, the frontier. I suppose it will never become civilized in our lifetimes.”

“Too damn much civilization will be the ruination of the world,” said Dallas. “I hope the frontier, just the way it is, outlives me. It’s the last even break a man will ever get. I reckon the time will come when some slicked-up varmint tells us we can’t carry our guns, when crooked politicians, judges, and lawyers can rob us all legal and proper, in the courts. Like they done old Jed Logan, back in Missouri.”