Golden Heart (The Lazarus Longman Chronicles)

by P J Thorndyke

  “Just try and keep up with me,” said Katarina. “Longman, you help him.”

  “Get your hands off me,” snapped Thompson as Lazarus tried to offer his support. “I can hobble along well enough on my own.”

  Hobble he did but admirably, matching Lazarus and Katarina pace for pace as they rose up out of the forest and continued following the cliffs to the southern point, where they dipped down. He was clearly struggling, and the strip of Katarina’s dress wasn’t enough to keep the blood in his body.

  It was a brutal trek. Before the sun had reached its zenith, they had caught up with the lone figure of Captain Townsend, who they saw wandering through the shimmering heat waves like a ghost. She was weighed down by a knapsack that looked like it was bursting at the seams and the weight of it made her stagger.

  “Captain!” called out Thompson.

  She whirled in surprise. Thompson drew his pistol and aimed it at her. Townsend returned the favor. Katarina drew her own and aimed it at Thompson.

  “Let’s just be calm…” said Lazarus, his hand hovering near his own pistol, unsure that if he had to draw it who he would point it at.

  “Go back, Lieutenant!” called up Townsend. “That’s an order.”

  “Orders?” scoffed Thompson. “I don’t take orders from deserters. Townsend, I am escorting you back to camp and relieving you of command!”

  “I’m warning you, Thompson…”

  “As am I,” said Katarina. “You shoot her and I’ll put a bullet in you before she hits the ground.”

  Thompson ignored her and descended the slope, keeping his gun on his captain. Katarina followed close. “What’s in the knapsack?” he asked her.

  She didn’t answer but un-looped one strap and dropped it to the ground. It landed with a dull thud. Its seams split and its contents slid out. Gold glinted in the sun; enough gold to buy several large farms.

  “Goddamn you, Townsend…” said Thompson. “You’re nothing but a lousy traitor out for your own profit.”

  “You think this gold is for me?” she snapped back. “You think I give a damn about bits of metal? This gold can pay for some of the blood this war has drained from my homeland. It can buy up an orphanage or two. It can reimburse some families who have lost everything.”

  “And what of the partisan rangers?” asked Thompson. “And the Union? They need this gold too.”

  “Damn the Union! I haven’t fought my way out of the gutter and lost countless friends here in Arizona to hand everything over to them!”

  Thompson had set his face to that of a cold statue. Lazarus saw his gun arm tense.

  “Thompson, no!”

  The gun roared and Townsend fell backwards, her own gun remaining unspoken, Thompson’s bullet lodged somewhere deep within her. She staggered and then her legs gave out and she fell, her unbound lion’s mane of twisted hair spreading out around her head like a halo of gold.

  Thompson ignored the barrel of Katarina’s gun that was only a few inches from his temple. If she was going to shoot him then she would have done it already. He holstered his pistol.

  “I should kill you right now,” she hissed.

  “And that would achieve precisely what?” Thompson replied. “You were too slow to save her and now it’s done.” He bent down and began scooping the gold back into the knapsack.

  “Why couldn’t you have just let her go?” Lazarus asked him.

  He glared at him under his heavy brow. “She was a traitor and a deserter. This is how it is in the army. Besides, she nearly drew on me.”

  “Her reasons did not seem wholly selfish. What is a sack full of gold when there are seven cities of the stuff here?”

  “It is not the amount that counts but the intention. This gold belongs to the Union. Townsend lost her faith in the Union, I don’t know when, perhaps long ago. I had my suspicions but should have acted sooner. There’s no helping such as her.” He rose and looked at Katarina. “I am now in command of the Arizona Territory Unionist Partisan Rangers. I shall pass on my good words to your superiors. Townsend’s death will not affect your mission.”

  Katarina spun and strode away.

  “You’re a cold man, Thompson,” said Lazarus.

  “Who isn’t in this world?”

  They made their way back north, Thompson hobbling to keep up with Katarina’s furious pace. When they came within sight of the western city something made her halt and step into the shade of the pines.

  “What is it?” Lazarus asked.

  She pointed up at the deserted pueblo. It did not seem so deserted now. Figures were moving about between the buildings. Figures in uniforms.

  “What are they doing back here?” Lazarus asked. “There’s surely nothing of interest left in those hovels.”

  “Stay out of sight,” said Katarina. “Last thing we need is to be spotted by them now.”

  Thompson’s eyes glared up at the Confederates, his hand brushing his revolver. He clearly wished he had firepower and opportunity enough to take them all on. They trod the soft floor of the forest in perfect silence, or at least they assumed so. Somebody had heard them. A figure rose up sharply from the foliage, causing all three of them to draw their guns.

  “Don’t shoot her!” hissed Lazarus.

  It was Kokoharu. She looked surprised to see them but not, Lazarus was willing to wager, as surprised as they looked to see her. Her keen ears had most certainly picked up their approach.

  “What on earth are you doing out here?” Lazarus asked her, forgetting for the moment that she could not understand English. “Don’t you know that a party of the enemy is up at your old city?”

  The jerk of his head in that direction elicited a fierce response from the girl and she began to babble and gesticulate, showing that yes, she knew very well that the enemy had returned to the home of her clan. From the ensuing monologue, Lazarus could pick out only the names of people he knew; Mankanang and Xuthala were mentioned, as was Pahanatuuwa along with some variant on the pronunciation of Vasquez’s name. She kept pointing up at the cliffs.

  “They’re all up there?” asked Lazarus. “Vasquez and Pahanatuuwa? And Mankanang and Xuthala? Up at the city?”

  She nodded.

  “What the devil has been going on?” he demanded, but Kokoharu had turned and was making her way through the foliage, leaving the outlanders with no choice but to follow.

  “Do you suppose they’ve been captured?” Katarina asked Lazarus.

  “Unlikely. The chief and his wife, along with their greatest warrior, and Vasquez who shouldn’t even be out in daylight, incidentally? That’s too lucky for Reynolds. I’m guessing Mankanang and Xuthala are discussing terms with Reynolds. They probably brought Pahanatuuwa along as an interpreter. And Vasquez? Who knows? Something to do with his relationship with Reynolds is my guess. All the same this is very fishy.”

  Kokoharu led them to a little squashed area in the bushes where some brush had been piled up to form a soft bed. Here she picked up her spear.

  “Poor lovesick child has been sleeping here all night,” said Lazarus. “Must have followed them and kept a watch over Pahanatuuwa to see that he would come to no harm.”

  “What’s she doing now?” Katarina asked.

  Kokoharu was setting off towards the cliffs, spear in hand, as if she was going to singlehandedly conquer the Confederate army.

  “I think our presence has made up her mind to attack,” Lazarus replied.

  Kokoharu stopped suddenly and impatiently beckoned them to follow. Lazarus drew his pistol.

  “You’re not thinking of following this insane creature up to the city?” Thompson exclaimed.

  “I’m not asking you to come with me, either of you,” said Lazarus. “But my friends are up there and I do not leave friends in such perilous straights. And also, it may be worth remembering, Thompson, that there are plenty of Confederates up there that require killing.”

  Thompson said nothing, but drew his revolver and looked at it as if in longing. L
azarus reached into his pocket, drew out a couple of boxes of Colt cartridges and tossed them to him with an accompanying grin.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Another betrayal

  “I don’t trust that bastard with a loaded gun,” said Katarina.

  “Neither do I, but I trust he will be more concerned with shooting at the enemy than at us for the present,” said Lazarus. “A loose cannon can be a powerful weapon so long as one is willing to take a gamble.”

  “I didn’t think you were a gambling man,” muttered Katarina.

  “Let’s proceed carefully, at all costs,” said Lazarus as they scrambled up the slope on the left side of the city. “If there are any negotiations going on, I would hate to spoil them and bring our comrades close to peril.”

  Kokoharu, as if anticipating this, led them on a round-a-bout trail that concealed them from the sight of any guards in the city. They soon found themselves on a ridge high above the flat rooftops. Lazarus caught the whiff of boiling coffee from somewhere below, and his body ached for such comforts which had been denied him since their arrival in Cibola. Several guards patrolled the rooftops with Whitworth sniper rifles.

  “Are you any good with those at a distance?” Lazarus asked Thompson. “I’m a fair shot myself but it’s your leg I’m thinking of.”

  “Leave it to me,” the lieutenant replied. “I’ll pick the bastards off one by one while you two go in and do what you have to do on the ground.”

  “Capital idea. Katarina? Are you ready?”

  She did not reply, but merely cocked her pistol. Kokoharu lay down her spear and drew a wicked-looking obsidian knife from her belt before dropping down onto the nearest roof.

  They followed her as silently as they could, desperately wishing that they were as stealthy as the nimble-footed Cibolan. Hopping from one roof to another, ensuring that nobody on the adjacent roofs could see them, they made their way towards the nearest sniper.

  Lazarus made the kill. Creeping up on the guard from behind, he grabbed him in a lock and slipped his bowie knife out and up to his throat, drawing it hard and fast across esophagus, jugular and vocal cords. The man went down with a barely audible choking and coughing as blood filled his lungs and he asphyxiated. Lazarus plucked up the Whitworth and tossed it to Thompson.

  With the partisan covering them from the roof, Lazarus, Katarina and Kokoharu slipped down to street level and made for the shadows of the next building. Ordinarily, Lazarus would have balked at the idea of leading two young women into a danger zone but he had fast learned that Katarina could take care of herself, and Kokoharu seemed as determined to rescue his friends as he did. And everything he had seen of her so far suggested that she might be a lethal killer when she had a mind to be.

  A shot rang out behind them. They looked up and saw a Confederate fall backwards on the roof ahead of them. Thompson was a fine shot indeed, but all cause for stealth now was gone. The battle had begun.

  Two Confederates came running around the corner and Lazarus blasted them both, low and fast while Katarina sent a third tumbling back through the doorway he had emerged from across the street. Lazarus lamented the spilled coffee pot as they hurried past, seeking cover as Thompson fired two more shots above their heads. There couldn’t be many more guards left on the rooftops. In fact the whole pueblo had gone very silent.

  “They must be hiding somewhere indoors,” said Lazarus.

  As he finished speaking a burst of Jericho fire illuminated the doorway to the kiva up ahead. Lazarus figured they would have a mechanical or two. It came lumbering out of the round building, firing as it advanced. They ducked down behind a low wall, drawing its fire. Bullets ate into the brick, rapidly reducing it to dust, its soft construction no match for the 45-70 rounds. The magazine ran empty and Lazarus poked his head up over the ruined wall, hoping to get a lucky shot in before the mechanical finished reloading.

  Before he could fire, a wildcat leaped onto the mechanical’s back and wrapped her legs around its middle. Lazarus hadn’t even noticed Kokoharu leave them, but she had clearly found a sneaky way around the buildings and was now plunging her obsidian knife between the head and right shoulder of the behemoth again and again, causing the blood of the pilot to run out across the hot metal. It sagged to its knees and slumped forward. Kokoharu slid off the bronzed carcass and held her bloodied fist that gripped the blade aloft like a hunter reveling in victory after bringing down a stag.

  Lazarus and Katarina whooped and cheered for their savior, but the little Cibolan was smart enough not to loiter near the doorway to the kiva. She rolled away just as two shots whistled out of the dark opening.

  “They’re holed up inside,” said Lazarus, thumbing new cartridges into his Starblazer. “We’ve got them cornered.”

  “But how to get them out?” said Katarina. “And how to stop them retreating further? You know what lies in the floor of every kiva.”

  Thompson had descended from his rooftop vigil and joined them. Single file, with Lazarus carefully leading, they approached the kiva. Peering in, Lazarus could see that the Confederates had descended the ladder to the room below. They entered the building and stood around the hole in the ground. Thompson held out his rifle and called down.

  “I give up! I’m wounded and give you my weapon!” He let the rifle drop and they heard it clatter on the floor below. There was movement. Voices. Somebody picked up the rifle.

  They’ll never fall for this, thought Lazarus.

  But to his surprise, somebody was coming up the ladder. Lazarus let the soldier put his hands on the top rung and poke his head up before kicking savagely with his boot and sending the dazed Confederate tumbling back down into the kiva. Lazarus jumped after him and landed on his body.

  There were four more men in the room. Lazarus had noted them and started to fire before they even knew they had an invader in their midst. He fanned his Starblazer as Vasquez would do, sending all six bullets at naval height around the room and into their intended targets. The noise was deafening within the subterranean room, and the blaze of each round lit the confined space up like an electrical storm. Men fell, clutching their guts and chests.

  “Damn me, limey!” hooted Vasquez from somewhere unseen. “We’ll make a frontier gunman of you yet!”

  They were tied together on the floor in the corner of the room, the ropes digging into Pahanatuuwa’s thick biceps. Lazarus drew his knife and cut them loose.

  “What’s the devil’s been going on here?” he asked them. “We believed you both to be captured or drawn in on some hair-brained scheme to talk terms with Reynolds.”

  “First one, then the other,” said Vasquez, climbing to his feet and rubbing some life back into his limbs. His face was bloody and swollen, as was Pahanatuuwa’s, suggesting some rough treatment at the hands of their captors. “After the failure to destroy the bridge, Mankanang lost all hope and concocted a scheme to offer Reynolds one of the Seven Cities in exchange for peace. He was going to hand it over to him without the other chieftains knowing!”

  “He’s mad if he thinks that would satisfy Reynolds. One golden city will never be enough for him, or the C.S.A. for that matter.”

  “But Mankanang and Xuthala don’t know Reynolds as we do. They roped us along on the pretense of being their translators, but we knew nothing of their plan to surrender the western temple. Turned out we were to be a sweetener on the deal. They were going to hand us over to Reynolds as compensation for the lives lost in the recent skirmishes.”

  “Where are they now?”

  Vasquez nodded to the doorway that led to the tunnels. “Showing Reynolds around his new golden palace. But what happened to you and Katarina? Nobody’s seen hide nor hair of you since the battle.”

  “On the trail of Townsend,” answered Lazarus.

  “Whatever happened to that hussy anyway?”

  “Dead. She tried to make a run for it with a sack of stolen gold. Thompson killed her.”

  Vasquez eyed the partisan. “You d
on’t say. Wouldn’t have thought it of her, but you never can tell, as they say.”

  At the sight of Kokoharu, Pahanatuuwa’s eyes grew wide and angry and he began to bark at her in Cibolan. Lazarus intervened on her behalf.

  “She was waiting outside the city for you, Pahanatuuwa. Like a guardian angel. It was she who led us in. And you’re not the only Cibolan who can claim to have felled a mechanical now.”

  The big warrior’s eyes softened and he looked down at Kokoharu’s bloody right hand. A faint smile of pride touched his lips.

  Vasquez whistled. “What a crew. Now I don’t know about you fellas, but I’m dying to put an end to this whole silly business and pay back Reynolds for all he’s done. You all with me?”

  “I couldn’t have put it better myself,” said Lazarus.

  “My brother and his wife must also pay for their treachery,” said Pahanatuuwa. “With their lives, preferably.” And he was the first to return to the kingdom of the kachinas.

  The western temple was similar to its northern counterpart, but built in a slightly different way. It still rose tier on tier much like the pueblo above it, slabs of gold studded with turquoise that glimmered softly by the light of the torches.

  Before they had got within two steps of the cavern, a sniper shot rang out and showered them with flakes of rock. They dived for cover, Vasquez firing in the general direction of the temple. The sniper could be seen reloading on a terrace three floors up. Thompson knelt, rested his Whitworth on a boulder, aimed and fired. The sniper fell back with a cry.

  “Come on!” cried Vasquez. “In and at them!”

  They hurried up the golden steps and spilled into the temple. There was no sign of Reynolds or the Cibolan traitors in the great room.

  “They must be in one of the side rooms or upstairs,” said Lazarus. “Fan out but stay in pairs.”

  Vasquez and Pahanatuuwa headed towards the storerooms on the far side of the temple while Lazarus and Katarina made for the stairs at the rear of the audience chamber. Thompson and Kokoharu remained and took up position in the great room should their quarry return that way.