A cry sounded from Quincy’s right, and he twisted to see what had alarmed Carlton. Instead of the young trader, all he saw was a cavity in the ground. The pained scream of a horse sounded from its depths, and Cano and Quincy leapt from their mounts and ran to the edge of the hole, guns in hand.
Carlton’s horse was lying at the bottom of a pit, the lower part of which skewed at an impossible angle. At least one of the beast’s legs had clearly been shattered from the drop, and Carlton himself had been impaled on sharpened branches that protruded from the base of the hole. Twitching, he tried to speak, but blood gushed down his chin, and he coughed a crimson spray against the side of the pit.
Cano shook his head. “Trap.”
The rest of the group gathered around Cano, who flipped his rifle safety off and aimed at the horse. The first burst of fire snuffed out the suffering animal’s life, and Cano shifted his aim to Carlton, whose eyes were open, as though pleading with them to spare him.
“We need to help him,” Luis said.
Cano shook his head. “Look at him. He’ll never survive. He’s finished.”
The bark of the AK-47 ended the discussion, the rounds liquefying the young man’s skull. The Rodriguez brothers watched without reaction, and Cano lowered his weapon and switched the safety back on.
“Get a rope,” he called over his shoulder. “Retrieve his gold and weapons, and don’t miss his water and food. We’ll need as much as we can carry. No point in letting it go to waste.”
The two Crew gunmen sprang into motion to obey as Cano turned to Quincy.
“Why didn’t you spot the trap?” Cano growled.
“I…I was focused on the trail. Nobody told me there might be traps, or I would have.”
“I thought you knew these parts.”
“Never been up here. I stick close to town, mostly. Nothing up here but trouble and death.”
Cano stood silently for a moment, his finger hovering over the trigger guard of his rifle, and then walked back to his horse without comment. The danger of the moment that had just passed was palpable, and Quincy snuck a glance at Luis, who shrugged and watched the pair of Crew gunmen as one braced a rope so the other could lower himself into the hole and relieve the dead horse of its burden.
Ten minutes later they were back on the trail, now in single file. Quincy searched the path in front of them for any hint of a trap, unnerved at the near miss and how quickly their expedition had claimed its first casualty.
The air had begun to cool from broiling to baking when Luis called out to Cano, “Riders hard right!”
Luis already had his Kalashnikov in play as Cano drove his horse close and pushed the barrel aside.
“What the hell are you doing?” Luis cried.
“Stand down!” Cano yelled. “No shooting. That’s an order.”
“But–” Luis protested.
“You heard me,” Cano warned.
The men reluctantly obeyed, confusion on their faces, as a group of ten Apache gunmen cantered into view with rifles in hand. Cano held his ground, and the lead rider rode up to him.
Cano took the leader’s measure, his weathered skin tanned the color of rust, the hard lines of his face all angles, his gaze unblinking.
“You’re on our land,” the leader said, his voice a rasp. His gunmen held their position, aiming their weapons at Cano’s group.
“Yes,” Cano said. “My boss was supposed to contact your people and arrange something.”
“Who are you?”
“My name’s Cano. I’m with the Crew.”
“The Crew?”
“That’s right.” Cano eyed the man’s radio. “Why don’t you call in and talk to your headquarters?”
“Keep your hands where we can see them if you want to stay alive,” the lead rider cautioned, and moved back to his men, radio raised to his lips.
A tense calm descended over the area as the radio screeched static, and then a voice answered. The leader had a terse discussion in a language Cano didn’t recognize. After several minutes of back and forth, he returned, his gun now in his saddle scabbard, radio clipped to his belt.
“Your Magnus spoke to us,” the leader said. “I’m to bring you to the reservation to meet with our council.”
“What? No. We need a guide. You’re supposed to get us someone to take us to Albuquerque. No meetings.”
“Those aren’t my orders. They said to escort you to see them.”
“Magnus was clear–”
“All I know’s what my boss told me, and that’s to lead you to headquarters so you can discuss your situation.”
Cano made a visible effort to control his rage, his tattoos squirming like insects on his shaved head. He drew a deep breath and nodded. “Fine. Let’s go.”
“It’s not close. We’ll ride another hour or so and make camp for the night.”
“That’s not acceptable,” Cano growled.
“We don’t ride at night. So that’s how it is.”
“We’re in a hurry.”
“Look, you don’t like it, you can take it up with the chief. But he knows how we operate, and he’s expecting you tomorrow. Trying to ride all night won’t accomplish anything but endanger the horses, which I won’t do,” the leader said, his voice hard. “One misstep in the dark and I have a man without a horse. That’s not going to happen, so we’ll ride first thing in the morning and be there by noon.”
Cano could see he was getting nowhere. “Where’s your reservation?”
“North. It’s in the general direction of Albuquerque, so you’ll only lose the same time you would have if you’d camped out tonight anyway.” The leader paused. “Judging by the look of your horses, they need rest. They probably wouldn’t make it on an all-night ride even if I was willing to chance it.”
Cano looked away, considering. There was no point in escalating the conflict when it was obvious the leader was intractable. “Fine. Tell your men to stand down. I don’t need someone shooting me in the back by mistake.”
The leader nodded and called out in Apache. There was a rustle from behind Cano as the gunmen lowered their weapons. The leader adjusted his Stetson over his brow and then pulled the reins and directed his horse to the track. “Stay single file on the trail. There are traps all around here.”
Cano’s lip curled. “I know. That’s what the shooting was all about. We already lost a horse and rider.”
The leader didn’t respond, instead spurring his horse forward wordlessly. Cano debated saying something more but instead followed suit, leaving Luis and the rest to find their way into formation as their escorts brought up the rear.
Chapter 16
Cano and his men arrived at the Apache headquarters at midday after a hard night in the desert. When they neared the compound of simple buildings, they were greeted by twenty gunmen, all cut from the same bolt of threadbare cloth, their faces speaking to lives of hardship and deprivation. The patrol leader dismounted and motioned for Cano to do the same, and led him to where the head of the tribe sat in the shade with three other old men, all wearing cowboy hats.
The leader introduced Cano and left him to the council, who studied him dispassionately.
“Pull up a chair,” Ben said.
“That’s okay. I’ll stand.” Cano paused. “Why wasn’t I provided a guide?”
“You mean, why didn’t we anticipate that we would run into you in the middle of nowhere and have a fully provisioned guide waiting with the patrol on the off chance we did?” Ben asked, his tone flat but his words showing what he thought of Cano’s question.
Cano had no rejoinder, but he silently radiated fury at the Apache. He stood silently while Ben studied him like he’d just wiped him off the sole of his boot. Ben looked to his companions, who smiled, making Cano even angrier.
Ben sat forward. “Cool your jets. We’ve got a man for you. He’s ready to go. We had to pull him out of the field – our normal guy took off yesterday, and we lost a man down Roswell way recently, so
we’re a little short-handed.”
“Took off?”
“Yes. Another party headed north.”
Cano’s eyes narrowed. “Really? Who?”
“Party of five. One of ’em Snakebit. Ugly.”
“Any women?”
Ben looked him up and down. “What’s it to you?”
“I’m tracking someone who stole our property. A woman. Young.”
“There was an older woman. Also a younger one, with a child. Cute little thing. But at that age, they usually are.”
Cano swallowed. “A child?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it? Little girl.”
“You had them here, and you didn’t hold them?” Cano blurted.
Ben appraised him. “Why would we? They paid their way. Just like you did. We’ve got no beef with them.”
“When did they leave?”
“Yesterday evening.”
Cano did a quick calculation. “Damn. We’ll never catch up. Can you radio your guide and have them delayed?”
Ben shook his head. “Our man doesn’t have a radio.”
“Your patrol did,” Cano snapped.
“No reason to give a guide one of the few working units.”
Cano softened his approach. “We would pay. A lot.”
“Which would have been nice to know yesterday. But your boss never mentioned it. He just negotiated your trip. Can’t read minds.”
“There’s nothing you can do?”
“Not now.”
Cano’s brow furrowed with concentration. “I need to use your radio to call Magnus. You’re positive they’re headed to Albuquerque?”
“Yes. Like I said, one of the men was snakebit.”
“And there’s only five total?” Cano asked, trying to compute how two men and a pair of women could have slaughtered his force so effectively.
“That’s right.”
“Where’s your radio?”
“Thought you was in a big hurry. Sammy there’s your guide. He’s ready to roll when you are,” Ben said, pointing at a thin man in his twenties.
“I need to talk to Magnus.”
“Fair enough. I’ll show you the way.”
Ben stood slowly and led Cano into the building. An old shortwave transmitter sat on a folding table by one of the dusty windows, where a bored operator watched the scanner for signs of activity. Cano sat beside him and dialed the channel selector to the band the Crew used, and transmitted a call for Magnus. Five minutes went by, and then Snake’s voice came on the air.
“He can’t talk. What is it?”
“I have news.” Cano relayed the information in oblique terms any eavesdropper wouldn’t understand. When he was done, Snake was silent for several seconds.
“I’ll relay the info. You’re positive on the destination?” he asked.
“Yes. But they’ll be there by tomorrow evening.”
“I understand. I’ll tell our friend.”
“We’re a day behind them.”
“That’s unfortunate.” The rebuke was clear in Snake’s tone.
“Couldn’t be helped.”
“So you say.”
Cano terminated the transmission and pushed away from the radio. Ben stood a few yards away, his face blank, but Cano knew he’d heard the embarrassing exchange.
“We need to get out of here now. Do you have potable water?”
“Got a well. Go ahead and top off your jugs. And you’re welcome on the radio.”
Cano took a step toward him. “You’ve been paid well.”
“No,” Ben corrected. “We’ve been promised we’d be paid well and that a messenger would arrive within a week with the gold. But so far it’s all talk, so I’d bear that in mind before you start assuming any entitlement.”
Cano looked like he’d been slapped. “We’re good for it.”
“Our usual terms are cash and carry. No tickee, no laundry.” Ben hesitated. “We made an exception for you, but that’s unusual.”
Cano frowned but nodded. “Thank you.” His expression was sour; words of gratitude were unfamiliar to a man who took what he wanted and was accustomed to having his orders followed without question.
Ben adjusted his hat. “You’re welcome. Let me show you to the well.”
Cano and Ben continued their contentious discussion as the men filled their containers, but ultimately parted ways with a handshake and a new agreement for cooperation between the Apaches and the Crew. The price would be high, but worth it, Cano believed – he just hoped Magnus would agree when he broke the news about what he’d negotiated.
Twenty minutes later they were riding north, Sammy at the head of the procession, with brimming canteens and watered horses. Cano’s mind was racing as he considered how close he’d come to catching his quarry, and he cursed the patrol’s decision not to ride all night, which would have cut the woman’s lead time to half a day – one that could have been covered at a gallop if the horses didn’t have to go any further.
From behind, Luis called out to Cano, who’d filled them in on the near miss as well as confirming their destination. “You going to bushwhack them in Albuquerque?”
“Magnus will arrange something,” replied Cano curtly.
Irritated, Luis stiffened, but he held his tongue. He filed away the dismissive snub with the litany of resentments he had accumulated, and slowed to give Cano’s horse some space, cursing Cano with each hoofbeat but secretly delighted that the woman had managed to cause the bastard such distress. Luis debated twisting the knife with another remark, but thought better of it.
No, better to let it fester in Cano’s guts and savor the man’s visible annoyance.
Chapter 17
After thirty-six hours of hard riding with only infrequent breaks to rest, Tarak stood by his horse and pointed at the orange blaze in the near distance, where the setting sun reflected off the glass of high-rises at Albuquerque Plaza.
“There it is,” Tarak said.
“We’ll make camp here,” Lucas said. They were on the bank of the Rio Grande, whose brown water flowed lazily south. There was plenty of grass for the horses in the deserted valley outside the city limits, and no signs of human inhabitants. Around them the ruins of homes and industrial buildings stretched as far as he could see, casualties of the collapse and the ensuing mayhem. Now the area was a ghost town, victim of countless fires that had blazed unfettered with nobody to extinguish them. The overall mood of the place was funereal, as though the spirits of the dead still lingered, reluctant to pass into the next world, their circumstance unbelievable in a former land of plenty.
Ruby helped Sierra unpack the horses while Lucas checked Colt’s wound, which had grown worse on the ride. He was conscious and relatively alert, but the discoloration was ominous; his skin tone was slack and pallid, his temperature high, and his thirst constant.
“Not going to win any beauty contests, huh?” Colt said as Lucas studied the leg.
“Probably going to have to shelve the marathon, too,” Lucas said. “Let’s ride into town and find a medic.”
“You think they’ll be able to do anything for me?”
“Ben recommended antibiotics. Makes sense.”
“Be dark pretty soon.”
“Then we better get going. Tarak, you want to help me get him into town?”
“Sure. I need to find a radio and check in with my headquarters – let them know we got this far.”
Lucas blotted sweat from his brow with a dirty bandanna and adjusted his hat. “Take one side and let’s get him on his horse.”
Tarak assisted, and Lucas called out to the women as he climbed into the saddle. “Keep your weapons close. Treat anything you see as a threat. I’ll be back soon as I can.”
Sierra approached him and took his hand. “Be careful, Lucas.”
“Not like I’m going into hell, Sierra. I’ve been worse places.”
“Still…watch your back.”
Lucas nodded and pressed Tango forward. Sierr
a’s hand slipped from his, and Colt followed with a flick of the reins, Tarak bringing up the rear.
Sierra had made a point of helping Lucas at each rest stop. She’d been overtly friendly as the trip had progressed, touching him at every opportunity to reestablish the connection they’d had when they’d kissed. Lucas couldn’t say he minded, but he found it distracting; the touch of an attractive woman was unfamiliar after so many years. She was sending signals that were unmistakable, but it wasn’t the time or place, which they both understood.
Still, it gave him something to think about, not all of it unpleasant.
Lucas shook off the reverie and glanced at Colt, who looked like the walking dead. “You’ve been to Albuquerque before, right?” he asked.
“Sure. On my way to Roswell.”
“Where’s the best place to find a doc?”
“I have no idea. I spent one day there bartering for supplies. Didn’t have any need for one, so I never asked.”
“How’s security in the city?”
“Open borders. They have community policing by the militia. Seemed okay, not great. Town’s wide open, big on trading because of the river and its proximity to Colorado. Sort of a crossroads, so it’s got more opportunity than most places.”
“That’s good. Increases our chances that someone’s got meds.”
“Hope so. I’m about ready to cut the damn thing off, it hurts so much.”
Ben had probably been right that Colt hadn’t gotten much venom, but even the little amount had worked its magic worse than Lucas had ever seen – not that he had much experience with bites, other than what his grandfather had taught him. Colt’s leg looked ugly, and a part of Lucas cringed inwardly every time he inspected the wound.
Lucas addressed Tarak. “You know anyone with a radio?”
The guide nodded. “There are several who rent time.”
“How long are you going to need? I hate to leave the women by themselves.”
“No more than an hour, tops. Don’t worry about them. I’ll see they’re taken care of.”
“You have any ideas on where to take Colt?”
The Day After Never Bundle (First 4 novels) Page 54
