the Complete Western Stories Of Elmore Leonard (2004) (5 page)

Travisin stared at old Solomon without blinking, his jaw muscles tightening and relaxing, his teeth grinding against one another. Only once in a while did Fry see him as the young man with feelings. It was a strange sight, the man fighting the boy; but always the man would win and he would go on as relentlessly as before, but with an added ruthlessness that had been sharpened by the emotional surge. Travisin never dealt in half measures. He felt sorrow for the old man cut to the bottom of his stomach, and he swore to himself a revenge, silently, though the fury of it pounded in his head.

Chapter
Five
.

THEY CAMPED AT Solomon's cabin that night, after burying the man and woman, and were up before dawn, in the saddle again on the trai
l
of Pillo. They rode more anxiously now. Caution was still there, for tha
t
was instinct with Travisin and the scouts, but every man in the smal
l
company could feel an added eagerness, a gnawing urge to houn
d
Pillo's spoor to the end and bring about a violent revenge.

De Both sensed it in himself and saw it easi1y in the way the Apach
e
scouts clutched their carbines and fingered the triggers almost nervously. He felt the tightness rise in him and felt as if he must shriek to be relieved of the tension. Then he knew that it was the quickness of action mounting within him, that charge placed in a man's breast when he has to go on to kill or be killed. He watched Travisin for a sign to follow, a way in which to react; but as before he saw only the impassive, sun-scarred mask, the almost indolent look of half-closed eyes searching the surroundings for an unfamiliar sign.

By early afternoon, the thrill of the chase was draining from Secon
d
Lieutenant William de Both. His legs ached from the long hours in th
e
saddle, and he gazed ahead, welcoming the green valley stretching as fa
r
as the eye could see, twisting among rocky hills, looking thick and cool.

Over the next rise, they forded the Salt River, shallow and motionless
,
just west of Cherry Creek, and continued toward the wild, rugged roc
k
and greenery in the distance. De Both heard Fry mention that it was th
e
southern edges of the Tonto Basin, but the name meant little to him.

Toward sundown they were well into the wildness of the Basin. For d
e
Both, the promise of a shady relief had turned into an even more tortuou
s
ride. Through thick, stabbing chapparal and over steep, craggy mound
s
of rock they made their way. The trees were there, but they offered no solace; they only urged a stronger caution. The sun was falling fast when Travisin stopped the group on the shoulder of a grassy ridge. Below the
m
the ground fell gradually to the west, green and smooth, extending for
a
mile to a tangle of trees and brush that began to climb another low hill.

Behind it, three or four miles in the distance, the facing sun painted
a
last, brilliant yellow streak across the jagged top of a mountain.

NINGUN JUMPED DOWN from his pony as the others dismounted, an
d
stared across the grass valley for a full minute or more. Then he spok
e
in English, pointing to the light-streaked mountain of rock. "There yo
u
find Pillo."

Fry conversed with him in Apache for a while, shooting an occasional question at one of the other scouts, and then said to Travisin, "They all agree that's most likely where Pillo is. One of 'em says Pill
o
used to have a rancheria up there. Pro'bly a favorite spot of his." Th
e
scout sat down in the grass and reached for his tobacco chew.

Travisin squatted next to him, Indian fashion, and poked th
e
ground idly with a short stick. "It's still following, Barney," he said. "He must have known that at least one of our boys would have heard of thi
s
place and remember it. He purposely picked a place we'd be sure t
o
come to, and on top of that he made it double easy to find."

"Well, you got to admit he'll be fair hard to root out, sittin' on top o
f
that hill. Maybe he just wanted a good advantage."

"He had advantages all along the way. Here's the key, Barney. Did h
e
ever once try to get away?" Travisin sat back and watched the outline o
f
the mountain in the fading light. "Now why the devil did he want t
o
bring us here?" He spoke to himself more than to anyone else.

Fry bit off a chew, packing it into his cheek with his tongue. H
e
mumbled, "You've had more luck figurin' the 'Paches than anyon
e
else. You tell me."

"I can't tell you anything, Barney, but I guess one thing's sure. We'r
e
going to play Pillo's game just a little longer." He looked up over Fry'
s
shoulder toward the group of scouts. They sat in a semicircle. All wor
e
breechcloths, long moccasins rolled just below the knees, and red calico bands around jet-black hair. Only their different-colored shirts distinguished them. Ningun wore a blue, cast-off army shirt. A leather belt studded with cartridges crossed it over one shoulder. Travisin beckone
d
to him. "Hey, Ningun. Aqui! "

The Apache squatted next to them silently as Travisin began to dra
w
a map in a bare portion of ground with his stick. "Here's where we ar
e
and here's that mountain yonder." He indicated, drawing a circle in th
e
earth. "Now you two get together and tell me what's up there and what'
s
in between." He handed the stick to Fry. "And talk fast; it's getting dark."

Not more than an hour later the sun was well behind the wester
n
rim of the Basin. The plan had been laid. Travisin and Ningun gav
e
their revolving pistols a last inspection and strode off casually into the darkness of the valley. It struck de Both that they might have been going for an after-dinner stroll.

They kept to the shadows of the trees and rocks as much as possible
,
Travisin a few steps behind the Apache, who would never walk mor
e
than twenty paces without stopping for what seemed like minutes. An
d
then they would go on after the silence settled and began to sing in thei
r
ears. Travisin muttered under his breath at the full moon that splashed its soft light on open areas they had to cross. Ningun would walk slowl
y
to the thinnest reaches of the shadows and then dart across the strips o
f
moonlight. For a few seconds he would be only a dark blur in the moonlight and then would disappear into the next shadow. Travisin was never more than ten paces behind him. Soon they were out of the valley ascending the pine-dotted hill. The sand was soft and loose underfoot, muffling their footsteps, but they went on slowly, making sure of eac
h
step. In the silence, a dislodged stone would be like a trumpet blast.

On the crest of the hill, Travisin looked back across the valley. Th
e
shadowy bulk of the ridge they had left earlier showed in the moonlight, but there was no sign of life on the shoulder. He had not expected to see any, but there was always the young officer. It took more than one patrol to learn about survival in Apache country.

THEY MADE THEIR way down the side of the slope into a rugged countr
y
of twisting rock formations and wild clumps of desert growth. Th
e
mountain loomed much closer now, a gigantic patch of soft gray streaking down from its peak where the moonlight pressed against it. At first, they progressed much slower than before, for the irregular groun
d
rose and fell away without warning; grotesque desert trees and scattered boulders limited their vision to never more than fifty feet ahead.

Though at a slower pace, Ningun went ahead with an assurance that h
e
knew where he was going.

Soon they reached a level, bare stretch that seemed to extend int
o
the darkness without end. Ningun changed his direction to the righ
t
for a good five hundred yards, and then turned back toward the mountain and the bare expanse of desert leading toward it. He beckoned to Travisin and slid down the crumbly bank of an arroyo that led out int
o
the desert. In five months it would be a rushing stream, carrying th
e
rain that washed down from the mountain. Now it was a dark path offering a stingy protection up to the door of Pillo's stronghold.

They followed the erratic, weaving course of the arroyo until i
t
turned sharply, as the ground began to rise, and passed out of sigh
t
around the southern base of the mountain. The top of the mountai
n
still lay almost a mile above them--up a gradual slope at first, dotte
d
with small trees, then to rougher ground. The last few hundred yard
s
climbed tortuously over steep jagged rock to the mesa above.

Ningun scurried out of the arroyo and disappeared into a smal
l
clump of brush a dozen yards away. In a moment his head appeared, an
d
Travisin followed. They crept more cautiously now from cover to cover. A
l
ow, mournful sound cut the stillness. Both stopped dead. Travisin waite
d
for Ningun to move, but he remained stone-still for almost five minutes.

No sound followed. Ningun shook his head and whispered, "Night bird."

HE LED ON, not straight up, but almost parallel with the base of th
e
mountain, climbing gradually all the time. They had almost reache
d
the steeper grade when the Apache pointed ahead to a black slash tha
t
cut into the mountain. Going closer, Travisin made out a narro
w
canyon that reached into the mountain on an upgrade. It was gouge
d
sharply into the side of the mountain and extended crookedly dow
n
the slight grade to the desert below. Ahead, it made a bend in the darkness and was lost to sight. They climbed along the rim of the canyon for a few minutes while Travisin studied its course and depth, then the
y
doubled back, climbing steadily up the mountain. A hundred yards further on, the Apache gave Travisin a sign and disappeared into the darkness. He waited for almost twenty minutes, toward the end beginning to wonder about the Indian, and then he looked to the side and sa
w
Ningun approaching only a few feet away.

The Apache pressed one finger to his lips, then whispered to th
e
captain. Travisin nodded and followed him, creeping slowly up th
e
rocky incline above. They reached a wide ledge, Ningun leading alon
g
it to the left before climbing again over a shoulder-high hump tha
t
stretched into a long, flat piece of ground. Two hundred yards to th
e
right, the mountain rose higher to a craggy peak, sharp and jagged.

Nothing would be up there. Travisin and Ningun were on the mesa.

Not far away they heard a pony sneeze.

On this part of the mesa the grass was tall. They crawled along, a foo
t
at a time, toward the sound of the pony. The grass made a slight, stirring noise as they crawled through it, but at that height it could easily be th
e
wind. Every few feet they would sink to their stomachs and lie flat in the grass for a matter of minutes, and then go on, extending a hand slowl
y
to a firm portion of ground before dragging up the legs just as slowly. In this way they covered a portion of the mesa that extended to a scattere
d
line of small boulders. The occasional snort of a pony seemed to com
e
from less than a stone's throw away.

Travisin raised his head gradually an inch at a time until he coul
d
look between two of the rocks. From there the ground dipped slightl
y
into a shallow pocket, descending from four sides to form a natural barricade. As he peered over the rocks, the moon passed behind a cloud and he could make out only the dying embers of a cook fire in the middle o
f
the area. As the cloud moved on, the moon began to reappear gradually
,
the soft light crawling over slowly from the right, first illuminating the pony herd and then extending toward the center of the pocket. In a fe
w
seconds the entire camp area was bathed in the light. Travisin felt
a
weight drop through his breast as he counted sixty-three Chiricahuas.