by Jake Logan
And that was when he heard the unmistakable sound of a hammer ratcheting back into the deadliest position of all.
He raised his hands just a touch, hoping to keep his right close enough to his belt that he might be able to snatch up the big knife should he get the chance—any chance at all, in fact. Slowly, Slocum turned at the waist—could he jam his heels into the old girl and make a run for it? Probably not the wisest plan . . . yet. He saw the leading edge of a horse and rider keeping back in the shadows.
A familiar voice said, “Where I come from, that’s horse theft, mister.”
“Julep?”
The rider stepped forward just enough out of the shadows for light to angle across her face. “Yeah, but I reckon you knew you were being followed. For a man on the run, you sure are taking your time.” She kept the Winchester rifle leveled on him. Her grip was sure, no shaking or hesitation. They were fifteen feet apart and she could easily plug him in the back, the side, didn’t matter at that distance. He tried hard to not make sudden moves, the moves he wanted to make, that of jamming his heels into the mare’s sides and hoping for the best. But that would be foolhardy.
Her mount looked younger, taller, more muscled. Where did she get it? Capture it in the field as he’d done, he guessed. There must have been another source of saddles stashed somewhere.
“If you’ll recall, Miss Julep, I have had a rough run of it lately. Until I’m healed up, I’d venture to guess I’ll be a slow mover for some time to come, eh?” His efforts at levity, if they reached her, fell flat. She didn’t have a very rambunctious sense of humor, he noticed, but surely she wasn’t going to side with Deke?
“Julep, I need you to let me ride on out of here. I am a free man, not anybody’s prisoner—yet—and I don’t intend to be kept like a camp dog, you hear me?”
“Keep talking and I’ll have to cut out that silver tongue of yours. Do you hear me?”
Such hard lingo from her took him by surprise, but was that a slight quiver in her voice? Might be it was all show. “Now that’s not the Julep I’ve come to know, the one who nursed me back to health.”
Her hard gaze never wavered from his face. “And you’re not the man I thought you were. If you were, you wouldn’t be tucking tail and running at the first opportunity.”
“What did you expect me to do, Julep? Stay here and be Deke’s slave?” Slocum turned in the saddle to face her fully and relaxed his hands a bit, lowering them slightly.
Julep twitched and gripped the rifle tighter.
“Okay, okay, take ’er easy,” he said, keeping his hands at chest height, where she could see them. “Let me ask you this, though. Do you know what Deke plans on doing with all those stockpiled weapons?”
Her expression didn’t change much, but he sensed he’d touched on something she was unsure of. “You do know about the weapons, right, Julep?” No change in her expression, though a nerve at one eye corner jounced. Still she kept her gaze firm on him. Slocum continued, “A cave filled to brimming with enough weapons to start a war, girl. And that’s exactly what he’s planning on doing, Julep.”
“What do you mean?” she said, almost grinning. “There ain’t nobody around to start a war with—unless. Oh, you can’t mean the Yankees. He swore a long time ago that he was never going to give up the fight. Ever since before the war, that’s all he and, hell, all my family, women, too, ever talked about was how everybody from the North should be killed off, else they’ll taint the good family stock of us Southern folk.”
“But you don’t agree?”
“No, as it happens, I do not agree with that. I don’t like what them Yankee carpetbaggers are doing to my home. Nor do I like what they did all through the war, ruining everything in sight. But I don’t wish folks any ill will. If I could just convince Deke to leave them all alone.”
“I can’t disagree with you, Julep, but fact is, as far as I know, at least, he’s not fixing to fight the Yanks again. Not yet anyway. No, he’s planning on fighting the last of that ragtag band of Apache you and your kin drove out of this canyon.”
She thrust her jaw out in defiance. “You may call them ragtag, but they are a killing bunch. You saw what they did to Henry.”
“Don’t you think they have a right to be a little angry? After all, isn’t what you and your people did to them the same as what the Yanks did to you and yours?”
“Why, it’s not the same thing at all. No, not at all.”
Slocum closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them, he said, “I don’t have time for this, Julep. Look, when was the last time you came down to this end of the canyon? Been a while, has it?”
She nodded slowly, unsure of what he was driving at.
“Well, off in the southwest corner”—he jerked his chin in that direction below and to the left—“there’s what’s left of an Apache burial ground. A sacred place to the tribe. You know the sort of place, I can imagine way down South you all had family plots you kept tended, cleared away the creeping kudzu vine, planted flowers, maybe took a picnic lunch there and gathered with family to remember the dead.”
“You bet we did,” she said. “Got to honor those who came before us.”
Slocum nodded. “I couldn’t agree more. Which is why I found it so very sad to see that the Apache burial ground had so many babies and children in it.”
“Oh,” she said, touching a hand to her lips, genuine concern flitting across her eyes.
Slocum nodded. “Yeah, must have had a sickness come through. Bound to take out the small and the old first.”
“What’s this all got to do with me or my people?”
“Because someone—and it damn sure wasn’t the Apache—tore up that sacred Apache place, ripped apart the bodies of the dead, what bones weren’t scattered were smashed, stomped to bits by what looked to have been big boots.” He shifted in his saddle. “Now I wonder who could have hated the Apache so much to have done that?” The old mare relaxed a rear leg and stood hipshot. She was obviously growing weary of the conversation.
“Show me,” said Julep. “Show me what you’re talking about. If it’s true, I’ll . . .”
“You’ll what, Julep?”
She looked desperate, but couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“I don’t have time for that, Julep. You want to see it, you follow this path, fog my back trail, and you’ll come upon it. Me, I have too much ground to cover and no time to do it in.”
“What are you going to do?” she said, straightening in her saddle, the business end of that rifle still poking at Slocum like a menacing snake.
“I plan to head Deke off at the pass.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means that I can’t let him massacre all those Apache. They might have the will to stand and fight, but all those weapons would wipe them out. They’re a bitter people, and there are probably more of them than you know, but even if there were a hundred, they would be no match for what Deke has planned for them.”
“What can you do about it?”
“I don’t know just yet. But I have to at least warn the Apache. I can’t let them be massacred, not without warning. What they do with the news is up to them. I have to try, Julep.” He turned around and nudged the mare with his boot heels.
“Just where do you think you’re going? I’m the one with the rifle, John. Don’t you forget that.”
“I’ve wasted enough time already, Julep. If you believe what Deke’s up to is the right thing, then you go ahead and shoot me in the back. But I’ll not be turning around again. Good-bye, Julep.” He urged the mare into a quick, for her, trot up the slow incline.
“Wait, John, they tried to kill you. What makes you think they won’t try the same thing again?”
He looked back at her, but kept the mare moving forward. “They probably will.”
“You’ll be killed, John.�
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“And if I don’t try, so will they—and without knowing that it’s coming. That’s not fair.” He stopped the horse. “Julep, I was in that war, too. And I fought for the same side as your family. But I long ago had my fill of all the killing. Seems to me there’s a better way of living than going around taking from people just because you want something of theirs.”
“Like the canyon.”
“Yep, just like that. And then not stopping there. Not being satisfied until you have taken the very last thing they have—their life—and all because you have a hate burning so deep in you that you can’t recognize it’s the same thing that made you so hateful in the first place.” He turned once more and nudged the horse into action.
A few seconds passed before he heard a horse drawing closer. He peeked over his shoulder and saw Julep sliding the rifle into the saddle boot. “I’m coming with you.”
“Oh no, you don’t. As you well guessed, this thing could get ugly. I’m going alone, and with any luck, I’ll get out of there in one piece. And I won’t be coming back here to your cozy little canyon. But you, my dear, will be. And right now. Now turn around and go back to your own people, your own tribe. And try to talk Deke out of it. That’s the best thing you can do right now.”
“No. You don’t know Deke. You were right, though. He’s full of hurt. The Apaches, they killed his wife. He’ll never be happy until they’re all dead. Nothing I can say or do will change his mind. I’m only his sister, he’ll never listen to me. And besides,” she said, patting the rifle butt. “I’m the one with the gun. The only thing you have is that knife you took from Rufus.”
Slocum’s eyebrows rose. “You saw that?”
“Sure I did. I’ve been following you for a while now. Ever since you . . . turned tail and ran.” She smirked. “Oh, I almost forgot, you have the knife in your boot, too. Right?”
It was his turn to smile. “Right as rain.” He sighed. “Come on then, if you’re coming. But like I said, there’s no coming back. Not for me anyway.”
“Same here, I reckon,” she said in a quiet voice. She took a last look back down the trail toward the north end of the canyon, as if she could see through the steep rock slabs that rose all around them, obscuring her view of the verdant green land that cradled the only family she had in the world.
As they rode up the trail, heading toward yet another switchback, Slocum noticed that the passage walls appeared to be closing in, narrowing. Up ahead they met above the trail and soon they were walking forward in near-black conditions, despite the fact that it was still daylight out. Then it opened up again as suddenly as it had closed over, and they rode under a series of arches, formed who knows how many thousands of years before.
Slocum had little time to admire nature’s vast engineering marvel, however, because Julep said, “Hold up a second, Slocum. You’re headed toward a dead end.”
He looked back to her and saw she was grinning.
“You’ll like this,” she said, tugging her reins hard to the left.
Then, before Slocum’s eyes, she disappeared into thin air!
He didn’t suspect her of trickery, but could he trust her? He didn’t think he had much of a choice. Still, he touched the hilt of the big skinning knife and urged the horse forward. The rock where Julep has disappeared seemed to be a solid wall of red sandstone until he was but a few feet from it. Then, as he craned his neck to get a closer look, step by slow step the horse brought him nearer, and that’s when the tall cleft opened to view. It was positioned such that unless you knew it was there, a man might ride right by the thing and not see it.
Was Julep leading him into a trap? As mysterious and surprise-filled as this canyon had proven to be, Slocum had to admit that he had no real idea how to get up and out of it. Could be she was waiting just around the bend with a whole passel of her crazy Southern rebel family and friends, ready to drag him in ropes back to the campfire and work him over, torture him for being a deserter from their bizarre cause.
And then he rounded the corner and there she was, waiting for him, a perfect circle of sunlight streaming down on her almost as if in a painting, from the round gap under a naturally formed archway in the rock trail above. And beyond that, he suspected, they weren’t far from freedom.
“You had me worried,” he said, glancing behind himself at the curve in the rocky path.
“Good,” said Julep. “But we’re not out of the woods yet. Up ahead there’s another switchback, and then we’ll be able to see what’s in store for us.”
Slocum and the mare finally made it up beside Julep. For the first time he took real notice of her mount. It was a bay mare, too, but younger, leaner. She looked spunky and fidgeted while Julep held it still.
“You sounded hesitant,” he said.
“That switchback I mentioned, it’s big, and one part of it is hidden from this end, making it a good place for someone to lay in wait for us.”
Slocum nodded, then nudged his horse forward. “Julep, I’ll need a gun. If you trust me enough to save my life, and that was before you knew me, then you should trust me now. If we’re going to be ambushed, I would like some way of defending myself that levels the odds a bit.” He patted the hilt of the knife. “This is a pretty impressive blade, but at a distance, it won’t do as much as a bullet.”
Julep hesitated, then reached behind her, unbuckled the flap on a saddlebag, and lifted out Slocum’s Colt Navy in his holster. The bullet loops were filled, the leather had been oiled, and the gun even looked pretty well tended, and not too worse for the wear, considering the fall it took from the cliff top.
“Why, thank you, Julep,” he said, checking the cylinder and filling it with fresh rounds. “This old gun has been with me a long time, and I’m pleased as punch to find it’ll be with me awhile longer yet.”
“Deke didn’t want me to give it to you. Said you had to earn it.”
“Yeah, well, the next few hours will likely see to that.”
“We found a rifle, but it was busted up pretty bad. Figure it was that cat that did it. And the fall didn’t help it none.”
“Hmm,” he said, strapping on his gun belt. “Didn’t find a knife, not unlike this one, did you?”
“No, I didn’t. Maybe Deke or one of the boys did.”
“Well, I have this one now, and I’m sure it’s bothering Rufus something fierce.” He smiled and nudged the old mare into a walk, hugging the smooth left side of the canyon wall. “Rufus is an odd duck, that’s for certain,” he said in a quieter voice, keeping his eyes forward.
Julep responded in a lowered voice. “She’s always been that way. Just plain odd. But we love her anyway.”
“Yeah,” mumbled Slocum in little more than a whisper. “There’s so much about her to love.”
“I heard that,” said Julep, but Slocum cut her short with a raised hand of warning. He nodded forward, toward a jutting shadow. It appeared to move. He slid the Colt from its holster and eased the hammer back. Right before them, a small, furry face barely a foot off the trail rounded the corner, froze when it saw the two horses and riders.
It was a fox, and though it was obviously surprised to find them there, it regarded them for a moment before it spun and disappeared somewhere uptrail.
Slocum looked at Julep with raised eyebrows. “That bodes well—if anyone were up there, the fox wouldn’t have passed this far down. As long as there aren’t any places it might have sneaked in from elsewhere.”
“Not that I know of,” said Julep. “I think we’re going to make it out of here without trouble.”
“Now that’s what I was wondering—just what sort of trouble are you expecting?”
“Well, I know a whole group of Deke’s men went out on a job not long ago. I heard him yelling to someone about it not long before I followed you.”
“How long are the men usually out on these jobs?”
“All depends, but this one . . . maybe a week or two. Hard to say. Deke don’t share much information unless you ask.” She nodded toward a curve in the rock. “Behind there’s what I was talking about. Could be someone back there.”
Slocum thought about sliding down off the horse, realized he’d need help getting back into the saddle, but decided to risk it. He edged faster now toward the hidden space, keeping his Colt at full cock and extended, one arm braced across the other. Peering around the curve, he saw that the space was empty. “Just like the fox told us,” he said.
Julep was smiling.
“How far to the top?”
“Just ahead. One more slight curve, and then we come out between two big old rocks that don’t look like so much from the top. You got to know where they are to ever find your way back here.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Slocum nudged the old horse and they climbed the last bit at as fast a clip as he dared to urge the old horse. She performed admirably and soon Slocum felt the air shift yet again, reminding him of the slowly rising temperatures of the region.
The canyon would have been a tempting spot for travelers to have looked down upon, especially to people who had been trekking across near-barren wastes. With little respite from the elements, a distinct lack of water, daytime temperatures hot as blue blazes, and nights as brutal in the opposite extreme, there would be sweating and shivering in young and old alike. Slocum could only imagine what so many people had thought on seeing the canyon from above, all that lush-looking green, trees, and not just the size of a deceptive little oasis either.
This was a sunken oasis filled with the promise of a respite from the drudgery of travel, of sand in one’s meager daily ration of food, of sickness and boredom and worry that they’d never make the journey. It promised relief from the real threat that they might collapse and die in the desert, their corpses scavenged by wild beasts the likes of which most had never seen back from where they’d hailed. But eventually they’d not find any way down into the canyon, or would die a surprise, gruesome death at the hands of Apache, who must have placed sentries all around the rim.
