"What do you wonder?"
"How much he actually knows. He was looking for papers left by Juan. They were important enough he came here and went right into our tent uninvited. What papers could he mean other than the map?"
"Maybe he owed Old Juan money, wanted to destroy the records." Col shrugged. "He seems like a person who would intrude for less reason than that."
Julio was silent for a while. "I saw that monster thing as a silhouette against the sky. It was very scary, impossible to believe I was seeing it." Julio stirred the fire. "Still, I can't help wondering if it could have been staged." He looked at Col. "You know, Bronc in a costume, to scare us away."
"Where did he go, then? You said it walked right to the windmill, then disappeared."
Julio's eyes went back to the fire. "Yeah, I know. That is sure the way it looked."
"But?"
Julio grimaced. "I guess I have to check it out, to be sure, to stop being afraid. Maybe there is a hollow near the tree we didn't notice, or some way to disappear through the brush. I'd hate myself if I thought I allowed Bronc to scare me away with a trick like that."
"So we're going back?"
Julio shrugged. "I have to, you don't." He stared into the coals. "I've been thinking about Juan. There are two possibilities; either he ran away or he was killed. If he was murdered, his stuff has to be somewhere. We found his Green Card, so I believe he was killed. Otherwise, like we said, he'd have come back to look for it."
Col nodded. "It seems a strong possibility."
"Yeah, but we haven't found his stuff––tent, clothing, saddle, cookware; we're talking about a lot of stuff. We've been wandering around this place for over a month now and we haven't found another thing, not even signs of digging. So if we figure Bronc or someone else killed Juan and buried his stuff, where did he do it?"
"Couldn't Bronc just take the stuff home, hide it there?"
Julio shook his head. "I don't think so. Would you? If you murder a guy, you want the evidence to be in a neutral place, not where it could be associated with you." Julio shook his head again. "No, you bury the stuff and the body somewhere you think it will never be found, somewhere no one else would think to look."
"Okay, Sherlock, where do you figure that is?"
"I don't know. But I do know this: if I thought someone was going to dig near the place I'd buried him, I'd try to scare him away."
Col turned to stare at Julio. "Wait a minute. Are you saying you think Old Juan is buried at the springs, not a treasure?"
Julio stirred the fire. "Maybe it's both. Think about it. What if there is something valuable hidden, and Bronc knows about it, but he doesn't know how to find it. Then he figures out Juan maybe knows, somehow. So he follows him to Hidden Springs, watches him search. Maybe Juan spots him, or maybe Bronc gets impatient and tries to make Juan tell him what he knows. We'll probably never know that part. Things go wrong; he kills Juan without finding out his secret. There he is at Hidden Springs with a body. Juan probably had a shovel with him, so Bronc uses it to bury him around there somewhere. He can't risk hauling the body away, right?"
Col stared at his friend, amazed. "You've really thought this all out."
"Yeah. It's what I've been doing instead of sleeping. Anyway, here is Bronc in the middle of the night with Old Juan's horse. He knows he's got maybe four, five hours of darkness to make it look like Old Juan just decided to go away. So he rides to Juan's camp leading his horse, collapses his tent and somehow loads up all his stuff on both horses." Julio turned to point to the rocks where they found the Green Card. "Right there, the card falls out from somewhere, Bronc doesn't notice. Even if he did, he wouldn't know its importance. Now he has to walk back to the springs, leading both horses, 'cause it would be a lot of stuff. He digs a big hole next to Juan's body, dumps the stuff in, probably including the saddle, and covers it all up." Julio cracked a dry smile. "It's a long night for Bronc. After that, he leads the horse off somewhere, probably puts a bullet in its head on some lonely mountain top."
"What about the treasure?"
Julio's laugh was harsh. "If there is one, Bronc has now effectively screwed himself. He can't be hanging around Hidden Springs, digging or what not, without arousing someone's curiosity. If someone gets curious, begins to dig around and finds the body, well...it's Katy bar the door for Bronc."
Col stared at his friend. "Man, it all fits together perfectly."
Julio nodded.
"But Bronc can't let go, right?" Col said. "He came here to see if maybe we had the map."
Julio nodded.
"But if he can't go there and dig for it anyway, why––?"
"Why would he still want the map?" Julio glanced at his friend. "I don't think he does. I think he wants us to find the map. He talks about papers so we'll wonder about it, and look around for ourselves, and––"
"And then we go hunt the treasure for him." Col felt a shiver pass over him. "All Bronc has to do is watch and wait. If we find something, he takes it and buries us next to Juan."
"That's about how I see it."
Col sat thinking about it, his brain straining to understand the implications. "But what about the monster, the creature you saw? Why would Bronc want to scare us away if he wants us to find the treasure?"
"I don't think he wants to scare us away," Julio said. "Maybe he put on that getup in case someone else saw him, to scare them away. There are legends about that spring, apparently." Julio shook his head. "Or..." He hesitated, glanced at Col.
"Or the thing you saw is real?" Col laughed. "I like the other scenario better."
The two boys stared silently into the fire.
Col shifted his legs, cleared his throat. "What now? Do we play into his hands? Or give it up?"
Julio's face pulsed red in the firelight; his brown eyes glistened. "Do you think there is something buried there? Other than Old Juan, I mean?"
"I dunno. Juan or someone went to a lot of trouble to scratch that map onto the rock. Why would he have done that unless he was convinced?"
"That's the way I see it. So the next question is, how much do we want to risk to find a treasure?"
Col shook his head. "I don't want to give my life for it. But I don't want Bronc to get away with murdering Old Juan, either."
"Same here. So maybe we can kill two birds with one stone." Julio's eyebrows raised. "Sorry, poor choice of words under the circumstances."
"You're thinking we draw out Bronc and find the treasure at the same time?"
"In a way. Maybe we get some help. We recruit someone to watch Bronc while he watches us."
THIRTY
Eagle Feather crawled up the slope within a tangle of creosote, taking pains not to disturb the brush, a skill well developed while hunting game as a guide. The wind was a mild breeze out of the west, swaying the upper branches. Ten minutes into his stalk he heard the rifle bark again. He raised his head enough to orient to the sound, judged the sniper had not changed position and had just fired at Susan. That was good. The shooter would be worried now, believing he faced two adversaries. He would have to decide whether to attempt to keep both pinned down, or begin a retreat. Eagle Feather watched for any indication of either, but saw none. He knew Zack would realize the sniper had fired in a different direction, would know someone else had joined the party, and might try to take advantage.
Eagle Feather continued his stalk. Every few minutes, he raised his head, looked toward the shooter's position for signs of movement. He was well up the slope by now, but wanted to reach a position above the rifleman if he could. His eye caught movement, the tip of a creosote bush swayed slightly when its neighbors did not. The breeze had not moved it. The sniper was near a large boulder downslope from him, much nearer than Eagle Feather expected. He let his breath out slowly.
There was little cover where he was now; glancing around, he saw a smallish boulder ten feet upslope and moved toward it with great caution. It would not do to reveal himself now. Once there, he rested
his rifle across it and waited.
A bullet cut through the brush near Eagle Feather, surprising him. It hadn't come from the sniper; the report sounded more like a pistol. So Zack was on the move. This was a dangerous game. Zack did not know where the sniper was concealed and might mistake Eagle Feather for his adversary.
More movement of brush; the sniper was retreating toward the ridge. Eagle Feather aimed a few feet ahead of the disturbed branches and pulled the trigger. He heard a grunt. He'd hit his target.
He stood, aimed his rifle at the same place, and waited. He saw Zack rise from concealment downslope and move cautiously up toward him, his pistol aimed in the same direction. Zack neared the spot, crouched, moved in close, and peered into the brush.
Eagle Feather knew from the way Zack stood and lowered his pistol the sniper had eluded them. He watched Zack examine the spot, then glance up the hill toward the ridge, raise an arm and motion Eagle Feather to continue up the slope.
Eagle Feather angled toward him. When he arrived, Zack gave a slow shake of his head. "You came along at a good time."
"I spend a lot of time saving your skin, White Man." Eagle Feather crouched to study a small patch of blood. "I only grazed him."
They followed scuffmarks in the sand on toward the ridge. "He moves well, and he's a good shot––knocked your hat right off the rock," Zack said.
"He's made it up and over the ridge by now." Eagle Feather turned downslope, cupped his mouth and shouted to Susan.
Zack swung toward Eagle Feather. "Susan's down there? I hope she's okay."
"I gave her strict instructions not to move."
Zack's face showed anger. "You used Susan as a decoy?"
Eagle Feather raised an eyebrow. "Well, yes, I did."
"How could you do that?"
"There wasn't much choice."
"You'd better explain."
Eagle Feather remained calm, explained patiently. "The shooter had you pinned when we arrived, pistol against rifle." He held up the rifle. "I knew that because you seem to have forgotten it. The shooter was upslope, didn't know we were there. If I could get above him, we would have him in crossfire. Susan could not move up the slope without exposing herself. The safest place for her was right there behind the rock. I put my hat on it, asked Susan to stay down and tug the creosote bush one time to draw fire." Eagle Feather shrugged, stared at Zack. "She did a good job, exposed the rifleman; we drove him away."
They watched as Susan brushed dirt from her clothing and climbed toward them. Eagle Feather's hat was in her hand. She waved it when she drew near. "You have a hole in your hat," she called to Eagle Feather, and grinned.
Zack's expression softened. "Thank you, friend. You were right. I was in a bind."
Eagle Feather took his hat from Susan, examined the bullet hole, put the hat on his head. "I need a new one anyway."
Susan saw the patch of blood. "Where is the sniper?"
"Gone, likely," Zack said. "Eagle Feather nicked him, but he escaped up to the ridge."
Susan grimaced. "I don't want to hear another bullet pass by me for the rest of my life. Two in one day is two too many."
Both men turned to stare at her.
"Two bullets? I only heard one fired in your direction," Zack said.
Susan sighed. "I hadn't meant to tell you. I stopped by to see Tav. He was exterminating ground squirrels, didn't see me coming, and a bullet came a little too close. It was scary but no big deal."
"You did not tell me that," Eagle Feather said.
"It was an accident. It wasn't worth mentioning. Tav felt really bad."
Zack didn't say anything. He watched Susan's face, glanced at Eagle Feather.
Their eyes met for a moment.
"Can you read any sign here?" Zack said, changing the subject.
"It was not a woman this time," Eagle Feather said. "This one has bigger feet. Now we know two people do not like you. That is closer to your usual average."
Zack grinned. "Yeah, that's about right."
Susan glanced at both men. "Well, it couldn't have been Tav. I was just with him. We were on his porch. He might have had time to follow me, but he wouldn't have had time to circle around here and ambush Zack before we arrived."
Zack sighed and turned back. "Let's go back to the sheep camp. I was interrupted before I could finish searching."
They walked down the slope to the stones where Zack had taken shelter.
"It's fortunate I happened to be right here," Zack said, glancing at the rock surface. "The first shot didn't miss me by much, it hit right next my hand." He pointed out the bullet pockmark. "I was just able to scramble behind this boulder. I had been about to investigate that." Zack pointed to slab of rock fifty feet away, half a foot thick, shaped like a coffin. "I had noticed it just before the sniper shot at me."
They walked over to it. Zack stared down at its surface. "Well, look there."
Susan knelt for a closer look, breathed in. "I think you found the map."
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The following morning, as Col and Julio enjoyed their coffee by the fire, Shep's low growl warned them they had a visitor. Col stood to look. A man was climbing toward their camp.
Fifty feet away, the stranger stopped to wave. "Hello the camp. Mind if I come up?" He wore an official uniform.
"Come on up," Col shouted back.
The boys watched the man stride up the hill. He moved with the ease of one accustomed to the terrain. When he drew near, Col saw he was a stocky man with a broad, swarthy face and large brown eyes––a Native American, he thought at first glance. The man's expression was impassive.
"Care for coffee?" Julio stirred the embers under the pot.
The man nodded. "Yes, please."
Col extended his hand. "I'm Col."
The man took it. "My name is Tav." His grip was strong; it fit the look of him.
Julio added water to the pot. "I'm Julio."
The man nodded to him. "I work for the Preserve. I've been meaning to get over here to say howdy to you boys and see how you're gettin' on."
"That's kind of you. Fact is we're doing just fine." Julio grinned over his shoulder.
"I'm glad to hear it." The man squatted near them, looked comfortable that way––another Indian trait, Col thought. "What's your job with the preserve?"
Tav gave a slow shake of his head. "Just about everything. I am six park rangers rolled into one."
Julio passed a steaming cup of coffee to Tav. "Where's your office?"
Tav took the cup, carefully sipped the hot liquid. "Ah, that's good." He raised his eyes to Julio. "I work in the little store at Hole-in-the-Wall. I issue permits, sell camping items, books on nature, and give lots of free advice." He took another sip.
Julio grinned. "Got any advice for us?"
Tav wiped his chin. "Sure do. Stick to tending sheep."
Col felt a twist in his stomach. "What do you mean?"
The boys stared at Tav.
"Hey, I'm not trying to scare you. No offense meant."
"But what did you mean by stick to tending sheep?"
Tav took his time. He held his empty cup out to Julio. "Mind?"
Julio took it, refilled it, handed it back.
"I don't guess you boys ever got to meet Old Juan, the man who worked here before you."
They shook their heads.
"Nice old guy. I came out here like this to see him several times. Very hospitable." He gestured with his cup. "Like you boys. We had good chats, the old guy knew a lot about a lot of things." He took another sip. "Thing is, sitting out here, just him and the sheep, you get lonely, start to get strange ideas. He used to talk to me about them sometimes."
"What sort of strange ideas?" Col asked.
"Well, fantasies, sort of, things right out of kids' books like ghosts and treasures and whatnot. Came on him slow, first thing you know he was all over these hills, lookin' for dragon hoards or who knows what."
"Do you have any idea what ha
ppened to him? From what we heard, he just disappeared," Col said.
"You think he went crazy?" Julio asked.
Tav frowned. "Not crazy, so much as stir crazy. Too much solitude." He flicked his gaze at Col. "What do I think? I think he had enough and just rode off."
Col kept his face still, stared into the fire. Tav apparently believed what everyone else believed, had no reason to think otherwise.
"Now you boys," Tav went on, "You have each other. Makes a big difference."
Julio's chin jutted slightly with the stubborn look Col knew well. "You advised us just now to stick with our sheep. Why'd you say that?"
Tav regarded each of them in turn. "Old Juan stirred up some folks with his wandering. He'd show up at night in places people didn't expect him, came near to getting shot more than once. I got a bunch of complaints about him. Just don't want to start hearing the same things about you fellas."
Julio's chin jutted even more. "We're on a lease on a National Preserve. I thought that meant it was public land."
Tav shrugged. "You're not the only ones on a lease. There's others have properties grandfathered, their ranches and camps been here since before the Preserve. Those properties will turn over to the government soon as the lessees die or quit the area, meanwhile we take some responsibility for keepin' up those lands. But that don't mean it ain't private, to their minds."
Col felt he knew where Tav was going. "So if it's got a fence around it, then––"
"That's right. A fence means keep out, in any language." Tav gave them a brief smile, without humor. "Look, I'm not trying to tell you boys how to lead your lives, just want you to know you're not in the city anymore. Wasn't that long ago people out here were shootin' each other over water rights."
He stood, handed the cup across to Julio. "Much obliged for the coffee. Nice to meet you two."
After Tav disappeared from sight toward the wash, Julio fed the dogs and the two friends walked down to the sheep.
Col put his thoughts into words. "He didn't just happen to turn up today. I wonder who complained?"
"No one could've known we went down to Hidden Springs, except maybe Bronc. Maybe we were wrong about him; maybe he doesn't want us to find the treasure for him after all and told Tav to warn us off." Julio grinned. "Maybe Tav is right, maybe we are leading too solitary a life, creating mysteries where they don't exist."
Under Desert Sand Page 16
