Taggart (1959) (21 page)

Leaving the horse with Stark slumped in the saddle, Taggart went forward and scoute
d
along the trail. To all appearances i
t
had been long since anyone had used it. He turned back to where he had left Stark
,
and led the horse into the trail.

It was well covered. Here and there the pines stretched like a wall along eithe
r
side, and occasionally a sycamore would reach long branches out to shade the trail.

It was quiet here. It was too quiet.

He felt jumpy, and from time to time he paused, trying to steady himself, and keepin
g
the rifle handy. Constantly he searched the country around for any movement. Star
k
was slumped in the saddle, obviously stifling his pain.

The vague trail now turned more to the northeast, and the mountain where Miriam waite
d
was close by on their left. Finding what seemed a passable route, Taggart led th
e
horse off the trail.

"Stark," he spoke softly, "from here on we're in trouble. Can you make it, or shoul
d
I leave you here and come back for you?"

"I can make it." Stark stiffened himself in the saddle. "Just never knew a man coul
d
hurt in so many places. You lead on, Taggart. I'm with you."

Every step now was a danger, yet it seemed almost incredible, for all around the
m
the country was so still in the warm sun. The air smelled fresh and clean of pine
s
and sage, and there was no sound but an occasional stirring of wind.

Suddenly, a bird veered up sharply, and instantly Taggart was behind the bole o
f
a tree, his Winchester ready. Stark had not moved for fear the saddle would creak
,
but his pistol was out and balanced easy in his hand.

After a moment, Taggart cat-footed it forward and paused. Not fifty feet away wer
e
three Apaches, but they faced in the opposite direction and were looking up the mountai
n
ahead of them. This was the mountain where Miriam was and the Indians had seen somethin
g
there. They moved away swiftly into the brush, climbing higher on the mountain.

"Looks like we got here just in time," Taggart said, and after another moment the
y
went on.

From their actions, he decided there were few Apaches i
n
this area. No doubt they had spread out to cover a wider range, and on sighting th
e
pack train they would send up a smoke to bring the others to the fight. If his gues
s
was right, that smoke would be going up soon.

The trees were thinning out, and before them loomed the bald mountain from whic
h
the mesa rose. Still all was quiet. Taggart led the horse beyond the last gatherin
g
of pines and into the sparse brush that straggled beyond the edge of the trees.

Three apaches sat on their horses some hundred yards away, and an Indian on foo
t
was talking with them. While Taggart and Stark waited, another Indian came from th
e
woods and joined them. Suddenly, from high on the mountain, there was a rifle shot.

The sound racketed down the rocks, and Taggart saw an Apache come tumbling down th
e
slope, his body bringing up against a rock. The Indian struggled to pull himsel
f
erect, and then slumped back, losing hold on his rifle, which slid and rattled ove
r
the rocks.

Instantly, the others started forward, and Taggart lifted his rifle and took carefu
l
aim. It was an easy shot, but he made it with care, wanting to be sure of this on
e
at least of their enemies. He dropped the first Apache. Almost as if the rifle sho
t
had been a magician's wand, the others vanished.

"Wait ... " Taggart lifted a hand. They stayed still, and nothing stirred. "All right,"

Taggart said, "let's go!"

He left the brush on the run, keeping low, feeling that due to the lay of the ground
,
he had a chance of reaching the trail without being seen. But he had taken no mor
e
than a dozen steps before a bullet splattered against a rock near him and whine
d
away through the hot afternoon. Stark was firing, and then from the rim of the mes
a
above there was a burst of rifle that startled Taggart.

Miriam was not alone! Pete Shoyer had come back, then. They went up the slope, Star
k
on his horse and Taggart running, and they climbed up the mesa covered by rifle fir
e
from the rim. He raced up and was a dozen steps over the flat top before he stoppe
d
and turned. Miriam was at Adam's side helping him from the saddle. The movement ha
d
started him bleeding. He looked over to Taggart. "I'll be all right," he said, an
d
fainted.

Consuelo went to him quickly. "Let me," she said. And when Miriam hesitated, sh
e
added, "Por favor?"

Miriam stepped back a little. "All right, Connie," she said, and picked up her rifl
e
again.

Taggart stood facing Shoyer. "There's plenty of them down there, but we're gettin
g
out. This could be a death trap." "You'll go when I tell you," Shoyer replied. "W
e
haven't a chance!"

"We're going out of here now, and we're taking that chance," Taggart said. "They'l
l
be sending up a smoke within the next few minutes and have half the Apaches in Arizon
a
coming down on us. You do what you please. I'm taking them out of here, and I'm takin
g
their gold with them."

The two men faced each other in the hot afternoon sun. For the first time Pete Shoye
r
saw Swante Taggart as he was, as something other than just another scalp to be take
n
in. He realized he was facing a tough and dangerous man ... and a man whose sid
e
was right.

Taggart put it plain. "The gold is not yours, Shoyer. The woman is not yours. Yo
u
make another stab at taking either and you're an outlaw."

"I've taken that step," Shoyer replied coolly. "I'm taking both the woman and th
e
gold, only I'm taking it all. You had your chance. I told you to stay out of my wa
y
and I'd stay out of yours.... Well, you're wanting trouble. You asked for it by stayin
g
on ... now you've got it."

"Why, sure!" Taggart replied. "I'm ready for it. Make your move. "

"Stop it!" Miriam had her rifle on them. "The first one who touches a gun I'll kill.

We've got Indians to fight."

"And I'll kill the other one." Stark was sitting up, pistol in hand.

Taggart turned abruptly away and went to the mules, wher
e
he began tightening the loosened cinches. Pete Shoyer stared after him, his fac
e
dark and impassive, his eyes utterly cold. "I'll kill you," he said conversationally.

"I'll take your scal
p
back to New Mexico and collect on it."

Taggart ignored him. Stark switched to his own horse and Taggart mounted up. Fo
r
a moment they glanced at each other. "Look!" Miriam pointed.

A thin column of smoke was rising, and as it lifted, it broke. Swante Taggart rod
e
over the rim and started down the trail. The others followed, and they went fast.

They were almost halfway down before the firing began. A shot rang out and Star
k
fired almost as the flame stabbed from behind a rock, and he shot perfectly. An Apach
e
lunged out from behind the rock, tumbled over and over, then came up shooting an
d
three bullets nailed him as one.

Riding hard, Taggart hit the brush and, turning, blasted three shots along the fac
e
of the forest from where some of the firing had come.

Consuelo held a rifle and rode like an Indian, straight up and shooting. They plunge
d
into the trail toward Nugget Wash, driving the pack animals ahead of them. Shoye
r
brought up the rear, firing at intervals. One of the pack animals was bleeding badly
,
the blood scattering along the trail.

Taggart pushed on, levering a shell into his Winchester as an Indian leaned fro
m
the rocks to get a better shot, and holding the rifle in one hand like a pistol
,
Taggart fired, splashing rock splinters in the Apache's face. He jerked back, exposin
g
his body, and Consuelo shot into it. The Indian let go and tumbled down the slop
e
to land sprawling beside the trail.

It was a wild ride down the narrow trail which plunged down the mountainside an
d
into Nugget Wash. Coming briefly into the open, Taggart saw three smokes ahead o
f
them, and he turned abruptly and left the trail. He climbed out of the wash, th
e
others following and driving the pack animals. One of the animals made the shoulde
r
above the trail, staggered on, and then fell.

Taggart was down swiftly and slashing at the pack saddle. Jerking it free he tumble
d
the saddle, gold and all, into a narrow crevice in the rocks and shoved gravel an
d
rocks over it. It would look like debris which had fallen from their passing.

He pointed to a slash of white in the red rock above the spot. "There's your mark!

Come and get it in better times!" Then he led them west from the trail, working hi
s
wa
y
through rough and broken country. Sometimes he was up ahead, sometimes he was drivin
g
the pack animals.

But they were not clear of trouble. Suddenly an Apache broke from the brush clos
e
by and sprang at Taggart, knife in hand. It was Stark who killed him, firing thre
e
fast shots that knocked him from Taggart's shoulder.

The Indians came out of the brush in a swarm and for a moment there was a melee o
f
plunging horses and blazing guns. Taggart wheeled his horse and drove the plungin
g
pack mules into the attackers and, charging one Indian, shot almost into his face.

Stark had pulled off to one side where, sitting coolly in his saddle, with his weigh
t
shifted to his right stirrup, he fired his pistol methodically.

Pete Shoyer charged with the mules and rode into the attacking Indians, rifle blasting.

One Apache he caught with a lifting rifle muzzle and the sight of the rifle rippe
d
a gash under the man's chin, tearing it to the bone and showering him with blood.

Following through, Shoyer struck him with a swinging rifle butt and brought the ma
n
down.

Consuelo, all her fear gone now that the fight was upon them, was firing like a ma
n
and riding like a demon.

The fight could have lasted no more than a minute or two, and then it broke off suddenl
y
and they were charging down the trail again. Taggart thumbed cartridges into hi
s
rifle, and reloaded his pistol. Their horses were lathered and they had lost anothe
r
pack mule, this one the one with the supplies.

At a run they charged across the ground, riding over a rough and broken area that
,
under ordinary circumstances, none of them would have dreamed of crossing at mor
e
than a walk. Taggart still led, pushing toward Pinal Creek. There was
a
ranch somewhere on Pinal Creek, he believed, and it might give the
m
temporary shelter.

Pete Shoyer closed in on Consuelo. "Come on!" he said. "Let's get out of here! We'l
l
take one mule and ride!"

"No," she said, "I stay with my husband."

For an instant Shoyer's face was savage. "You don't pull that on me!" he said, "Com
e
on!"