Skeleton Lode (40 page)

“I been needin’ to talk to somebody about what’s been goin’ on in and near the Superstitions,” said Wheaton.

He proceeded to tell Arlo of the killing of the five men associated with old Domingo Vasquez and of the disappearance of the horses.

“Old Vasquez is purely raisin’ hell,” Wheaton said. “He claims Yavapai and Sanchez, bein’ part of the bunch, killed the other five and then made off with the seven horses. I’ll grant they’re a pair of shiftless coyotes, but I don’t believe they’d murder five men so close to town just for the sake of seven horses. I’m stumped. Can you shed any light on this fool situation?”

“Maybe,” said Arlo.

He then told Wheaton of Bowdre and his men being on foot, of the stampeding of the mules, and of meeting the vengeful owners of the mules.

“There were five mules left in place of the horses,” Arlo said, “and I reckon the five men with Yavapai and Sanchez caught up to the mules. I’d say them Missouri mule drovers just killed the five hombres astraddle of their mules. That bunch from the Superstitions who actually took the horses only needed five, so two were turned loose with the mules. I’m bettin’ Yavapai and Sanchez grabbed the two extra horses and lit out for parts unknown.”

“It fits,” said Wheaton. “Yavapai and Sanchez figured old Vasquez would have their necks stretched if he could. I’m near willin’ to pay Vasquez for the horses myself. By God, Phoenix oughta celebrate. Yavapai and Sanchez have shucked out, not darin’ to come back, and five of them border cutthroats have been shot dead.”

Arlo quickly took advantage of Sheriff Wheaton’s elation. He gathered his purchases and left before the sheriff got around to questioning him about the continuing search for Hoss Logan’s gold.

This time, Three-Fingered Joe rode to Tortilla Flat, because it was nearer. When he returned, he had four extra globes and another gallon jug of coal oil for the lanterns. By then it was late afternoon, and a violent storm was building in the west. The sun had already set behind a bank of ominous gray clouds, and a rising wind out of the west had a chill bite to it. Bowdre had collected a pot of cold water, made pads from an old blanket, and after dipping them into the frigid water, he applied them to his still badly swollen ankle.

“If we’re goin’ back in that mountain tonight,” said Carp, “let’s get there ahead of the storm. In a while it’s gonna rain like a longhorn bull waterin’ a flat rock, and I ain’t aimin’ to walk no two miles in a downpour.”

“Me neither,” Os Ellerton threw in.

“I ain’t much in a mood to take a hike in one boot,” said Bowdre. “We got grub and a dry place to sleep. We’ll ride out the storm where we are. I need some time to doctor this ankle.”

Supper finished, they sat around the fire drinking coffee, listening to the thunder rumble and reverberate through the canyons. The very mountain seemed alive. Then, for no apparent reason, Gary Davis got up and walked to the split in the cavern that allowed access to the top of the mountain. Wind whipped in gusts of rain, fanning the fire’s flames into a crazy dance. Lightning flashed continuously, and when it struck somewhere near the top of the mountain, it had a profound effect on Davis. With a scarcely human cry, he bolted out into the storm.

“Davis,” Bowdre shouted, “don’t go out there!”

“The damn fool!” yelled Sandoval. “He’ll git fried to a cinder.”

“I hope he does,” Carp said sadistically. “I ain’t never
seen a hombre hit by lightnin’. I’m goin’ out far enough to see him burn.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Ellerton. “That’s a sight I’d admire to see.”

“Hell, they’re as stupid as Davis,” said Sandoval when the pair had gone to the point where the passage opened to the mountaintop.

Carp and Ellerton went as far as they dared, pausing under an overhang. Lightning lit up the mountaintop like day, and they soon saw Davis. He stood with arms flung toward the violent heavens as though he welcomed—or dared—the lightning to strike. When it did, Davis screamed like a madman, but he didn’t move. Unhurt, he stood there like some demented apparition, squalling like a panther.

“God,” said Ellerton, “there ain’t
nothin’
natural about this. I ain’t wantin’ to see no more.” Turning away, he returned to the protection of the cavern.

“Well?” Sandoval inquired.

“Lightnin’ struck all around him,” said Ellerton, “and by God, he ain’t been touched. I’m damn near ready to believe Davis is dead, and that somethin’—maybe the devil—has took over his body.”

Three-Fingered Joe laughed uneasily, but Sandoval and Bowdre didn’t. Even Zondo Carp, who had followed Ellerton back to camp, was awed.

“By God,” Carp said, “I ain’t never seen nothin’ like it. He just stood there screechin’ like a beaten whelp. It was like he was answerin’ that storm, and it behaved just like it was hearin’ him.”

When Davis returned, drenched from the rain, he was eerily subdued. Without a word, he took his place at the fire. The rest of them stared at him in wonder, but he seemed not to notice or to care. They were all uneasy as the storm raged on, and they kept their hands near the butts of their revolvers. Suddenly, in the second passage that began behind the spring and continued to the foot of the mountain, there was a sound like a stone striking the wall.

“I hope the mountain ain’t comin’ down on our heads,” said Carp, drawing his Colt. “I’ll have a look.”

He stepped into the passage carrying a lighted lantern. But he saw and heard nothing. Just as he was turning back, there was a tinkle of glass, and the lantern’s flame guttered out. Carp made his way back in the dark.

“Damn you. Carp,” Bowdre said, “you’ve busted another lantern globe.”

“By God,” said Carp, “I ain’t done nothin’. I didn’t see or hear anything, and as I was comin’ back, the damn globe just broke.”

Before anybody could respond to his outburst, there was yet another noise in the passage, almost exactly like the first. Carp reached for the other lantern.

“Carp,” said Bowdre, “leave that lantern be, and stay the hell out of that passage.”

“I reckon you aim to set here all night,” said Ellerton. “not knowin’ who or what’s out there.”

“Hell, yes,” Bowdre replied, “if it means gettin’ a lantern globe busted ever’ time Carp goes out there to nose around. Any of you that’s wantin’ to prowl around back yonder, light yourself a pine knot. We need them lanterns to search that underground river.”

Gary Davis snored noisily, but try as they might, the rest of them were unable to sleep. Just when it seemed the troublesome noise in the tunnel had ceased, there would come again the sound of a solitary stone striking the passage wall and then clattering to the floor. Far into the night it continued, abating just long enough for them to drowse, then jerking them all awake. As they hunched there in silence, anticipating the sound, it became a kind of torture. The aggravation continued, and it was Carp who finally snapped under the strain. Angrily he got to his feet.

“By God,” he said, “I’m takin’ a light and goin’ back there!”

He lit a long strip of pine, drew and cocked his Colt, and stepped into the dark passage behind the cascading
water. Time dragged on—ten minutes, twenty minutes—and Carp failed to return.

“Somethin’ must of happened to him,” Bowdre worried.

Then, lending ominous credibility to Bowdre’s words, there came that devilish sound of a stone striking the passage wall and then clattering away to silence.

“I’m goin’ to have a look,” said Sandoval. “Anybody got the guts to go with me?”

“I have,” Ellerton said. “I’ve had about enough of this.”

Sandoval and Ellerton stepped into the passage, each with his Colt cocked and ready, each with a lighted pine torch. They had gone only a few yards when they found Carp. He lay on his back, still clutching his unfired weapon. Sandoval holstered his pistol, then knelt down and felt for a pulse.

“He’s alive,” Sandoval said, “but out colder than a dead trout.”

“Hell, there’s a lump over his right eye big as a horse apple,” said Ellerton. “I reckon somethin’ or somebody walloped him good.”

“You carry the lights,” Sandoval said, “and I’ll get him back to camp.”

When they’d got Carp back, Sandoval stretched him out before the fire, while Bowdre and Three-Fingered Joe watched in silence.

“Maybe he fell and hit his head,” said Three-Fingered Joe.

“How the hell you figure that?” Sandoval demanded. “We found him flat on his back, holdin’ his pistol. He’d have had to fall face-down and roll over on his back after he was out cold.”

“Somethin’ or somebody slugged him,” said Bowdre, “and they done it facin’ him. But how, without Carp makin’ some move to defend himself?”

His question was mocked by yet another stone striking the passage wall, then falling away to silence.

“Maybe movin’ into this damn camp wasn’t such a
good idea,” Three-Fingered Joe said. “I’ve about had my fill of these spooky mountains, gold or no gold.”

“I’ve already said that,” said Ellerton, “and I’m sayin’ it again. I’m givin’ it two more days. We get into the river cavern and find the gold, or we give it up and ride out.”

“You gents have had your say,” Bowdre snarled, “and now I’ll have mine. I’m fed up with all your whining and bellyaching. Come first light, anybody that’s of a mind to leave, just mount up and ride. Or for that matter, by God, you can leave right now.”

“I’ll stay,” said Sandoval, “but when Carp comes to, let’s take a vote. He might ride out too, and I like the idea of a two-way split of the gold.”

Three-Fingered Joe and Os Ellerton cast black looks at Sandoval, as Bowdre laughed. At that point Carp sat up and looked groggily about.

“What’n hell happened to you?” Ellerton demanded.

“Somebody nearly bashed my brains out,” Carp snarled. “You reckon I just growed this lump on my head to keep my hat from slippin’ down over my eyes?”

“You was hit hard,” said Bowdre, “but by what, and who done it?”

“I didn’t see nothin’ or nobody,” Carp said. “Some-thin’ hit me, and I don’t remember nothin’ else.”

“Os and Joe ain’t satisfied,” said Bowdre, “and they’re threatenin’ to ride out. What about you? Do you aim to saddle up and ride?”

“Hell, no,” Carp said. “Not without a chance at the gold, and a shot at the sneakin’, skunk-striped son of a bitch that near busted my skull.”

Carp’s bravado—especially after his recent experience—made his companions look small, and Bowdre glared triumphantly at Ellerton and Three-Fingered Joe.

“All right,” Ellerton said, with poor grace, “I’ll stay till the finish.”

“Count me in, I reckon,” said Three-Fingered Joe.

“Praise be,” Bowdre said sarcastically. “We’re one big happy family again. Tomorrow we’ll search every crack and crevice along that river.”

The day following Kelly’s fall, time hung heavy on everybody’s hands. Kelly slept most of the day, and Dallas sat with her. Arlo and Kelsey spent most of their time outside, occasionally walking to Saguaro Lake.

“Kelly’s my sister, and I shouldn’t complain,” Kelsey said, “but my God, this constant waiting, just doing nothing, is getting to me. I hope by tomorrow she’ll be able to get up, so we can go look for the mine.”

“Don’t count on it,” said Arlo. “In a way, I reckon she’s worse off than you were when you were shot. You only hurt in one place, and she’s likely hurtin’ all over. She’ll need about three days’ rest before we continue our search.”

“Two more days of waiting? Lord, what are we going to do with ourselves?”

Arlo laughed. “I had a suggestion, but that didn’t appeal to you.”

“I’m bored enough to reconsider,” she said. “Let’s walk back to the lake.”

To Kelsey’s and Arlo’s immense relief, Kelly was awake by suppertime and insisting on getting up.

“This rawhide-strung bunk is doing more damage to my back than the fall,” she said. “I have to get up.”

She sat up groggily, and when impatience got the best of her, Dallas helped her to walk. With Arlo and Kelsey encouraging her, it looked like she was going to beat Arlo’s prediction of three days.

* * *

The morning after the storm Bowdre and his companions filled both their lanterns with oil and returned to the underground river. Gary Davis, left in camp, showed no emotion when they departed.

“We should be able to search this whole damn river today and tonight,” said Carp. “If we come up dry, you aim to bring Davis in tomorrow?”

“That’s what I’m considerin’,” Bowdre replied. “I’ll bend a pistol barrel over his head and we’ll tote him in feetfirst, if we have to.”

“Then you’d better keep your pistol handy,” said Carp, “because he’ll go crazy when he wakes up and sees where he’s at. I’m figurin’ whatever happened to him must have took place somewhere along that river. That’s why he goes wild just at the mention of it.”

“We’ll get out of his way and let him go as crazy as he likes,” Bowdre said. “If he’s seen the mine, and it’s anywhere along this river, then I’m countin’ on his recollection takin’ over and sendin’ him hell-bent-for-leather, right to the gold. All we got to do is foller him.”