Coyote Falls

by Colin Bainbridge

  ‘Do you know of it?’

  ‘Sorry, can’t help you there. Never bin over that way. But I can tell you what they’re waitin’ for.’

  Calhoun made no effort to hide his eagerness.

  ‘I heard them talkin’. They’re waitin’ for a hombre name o’ Watts. He’s supposed to be bringin’ some sort of map. When they get their hands on it they reckon they’ll be in a position to let all hell break loose.’

  Bingley looked at Calhoun. ‘A map,’ he said. ‘What do you reckon that’s all about?’

  Calhoun was deep in thought.

  ‘Reckon I can answer that one too,’ the woman said. ‘For as long as I kin remember there’s bin rumours of a whole hoard o’ treasure hidden away down one o’ those mine shafts. Never give it much credence myself but that’s what they’re after.’

  ‘So this map’s a plan of the various mine workings?’ Calhoun said.

  ‘That’s what I figure. There’s bin folks before snooping about those workin’s, but it’s a regular prairie-dog town up there. The whole cliff face is just a maze o’ tunnels.’

  Calhoun looked closely at Norah. He thought he could detect a mocking tone in her voice but she only returned his gaze with a crooked smile.

  ‘I’m beginnin’ to see the picture,’ Calhoun said. ‘With that sort of money behind him and a whole army of disaffected ex-Rebs to back him up, Carver could wreak havoc. And not just ex-Rebs. Every horse thief, hold-up man and rustlin’ backshooter would see his chance.’

  ‘It could get a mite rowdy up here,’ the woman said. ‘Ain’t gonna be the same.’

  ‘You scared ’em off once. Anyway, they ain’t likely to stay round here once they get that loot.’

  She looked at Calhoun. ‘While you folks are settin’ figurin’ what to do, I think I might take me a stroll. Any objection if I take the cat?’

  Calhoun laughed. ‘Sure, I reckon she’d plumb appreciate an outing. I ain’t got no lead though!’

  ‘Don’t need one. We’ll be just fine.’

  Standing at the door a few minutes later they watched the woman and the cougar as they walked away down the street, heading towards the meadows and the stream. Calhoun turned to Bingley.

  ‘That’s a remarkable lady,’ he said.

  ‘Cherokee seems to have taken to her.’

  ‘I got me a feelin’ there’s somethin’ she’s not lettin’ on about that treasure.’ They watched a few moments longer till she disappeared around the corner of a building.

  ‘I tell you what,’ Calhoun added. ‘With her alongside of us, I don’t give much for Carver’s chances.’

  Later that day they walked up as far as the stream. At various points there were broken-down structures indicating where shafts had been sunk into the ground.

  ‘Headframes,’ Norah said. ‘To support the hoists.’

  Calhoun and Bingley leaned over the mouth of one of the shafts and peered into its depths.

  ‘Some go hundreds of feet,’ Norah said. ‘Straight down.’

  ‘It’s a mite dangerous,’ Bingley replied.

  ‘Sure is. Especially if there ain’t nothin’ to indicate where a shaft is. I knows the place well enough but even I need to be careful.’

  Beside the river they came upon another structure, consisting of a flattened circular area with a rod running out to a large heavy wheel.

  ‘Horse-driven,’ Norah said. ‘For crushin’ the rock.’

  While they moved about the area Calhoun kept his eye out for any of the outlaws, but they appeared to have deserted the vicinity. Would Watts know about the way station? Presumably so or Carver would at least have left somebody behind.

  A plan was forming in Calhoun’s brain. If Carver was expecting Watts, why disappoint him? He would take the part of Watts. By impersonating him, he would have immediate access to Carver. There were weak spots. Carver might recognize Calhoun from the old days, although Calhoun realized that he had changed. Crucially, he had no map.

  Then he had another idea. The map could still be a difficulty, but Bingley was a trained lawyer. He could come up with some sort of document drafted in legalese that would be enough to fool Carver. Carver had no knowledge of Bingley and it was pretty obvious that Bingley was no owlhoot. They could even ride in together. The weak link was that Watts might turn up at any time.

  When he broached the subject that evening Bingley’s response was enthusiastic.

  ‘Like I said before, those varmints owe me. I can get to work and make out some documentation tonight. By the time I’ve finished, those papers would fool any judge in the land.’

  ‘Once Carver is convinced, I’ll have my chance,’ Calhoun said.

  Bingley looked at him. Carver wasn’t saying his chance to do what.

  ‘And where do I fit in?’ Norah said.

  Calhoun hesitated. He hadn’t thought about the woman but it only took him a few seconds to work something out.

  ‘You take care of Cherokee,’ he said. ‘We can’t take her along this time.’

  The woman looked pleased. She laughed one of her cackles.

  ‘Me an’ Cherokee. Now that’s an idea. We’ll have us a real good time.’

  ‘Somethin’ else you can do,’ Calhoun said. ‘Keep a watch for the real Watts.’

  ‘And what do I do if the varmint shows up?’

  Calhoun and Bingley exchanged glances.

  ‘You done a pretty good job on the rest of ’em,’ Calhoun said. ‘Just carry on bein’ the town ghost. And if that don’t scare him, I reckon the cougar will.’

  Chapter Five

  It was easy enough to find the way station, following the trail left by the outlaws. It led along the stream and then through a pass in the mountains. Beyond that the way was steep for a while till it levelled out, then continued in a long, steady descent. Calhoun and Bingley came down through the treeline and then saw the roofs of the buildings below.

  ‘Funny kinda place for a relay station,’ Calhoun muttered.

  ‘Maybe it had somethin’ to do with the silver mines,’ Bingley replied.

  ‘Guess that must be it. Probably took a loop after leavin’ Coyote Falls.’

  Calhoun wasn’t sure how they would be received. Normally he would have taken care to pick his way down. Now it seemed sensible just to ride straight in. Still he was wary and his hand was not far from the Winchester in its scabbard.

  As they got nearer they could see that the way station was in a serious state of disrepair. It was obvious that no stagecoach had passed that way for a long time. There were also plenty of indications of its occupation by the outlaws. People were passing in and out and at one point a couple of riders galloped out of a yard and went off down the hill. Smoke was rising in a slender spiral from the chimney of what appeared to be the main building. There were horses in the corrals.

  ‘You got the story straight?’ Calhoun asked.

  Bingley grinned. ‘Sure have. And got the documents right here in my pocket.’ He tapped his jacket.

  ‘Don’t forget,’ Calhoun said.

  He was thinking of another weak spot in the set-up. What if Carver or any of the others were familiar with Watts? Their cover would be blown at once. But what the hell, he thought. After all, he was riding straight into the outlaws’ den with a greener and a crazy woman for his sidekicks and a cougar for back-up. It fitted.

  He caught a glint of light among the rocks on the slope above.

  ‘There’s someone up there,’ he said.

  A few seconds later a shot rang out.

  ‘Don’t do anythin’ stupid,’ Calhoun hissed. ‘It’s just the welcomin’ committee.’

  A voice hailed them. ‘Hold it right there! Put your arms up!’

  ‘Just do as he says,’ Calhoun drawled.

  They put their hands in the air at the same time as two men carrying rifles stood up from where they had been concealed behind rocks.

  ‘Throw your guns down! And be careful how you take that rifle out!’

  T
hey did as they were instructed. From behind an outcrop a couple more men on horseback appeared. One of them leaped down to gather up the discarded weapons.

  ‘Let’s take a ride,’ he said. ‘And remember, we got you covered all the way.’

  They came down into the way station yard where Calhoun and Bingley were ordered to dismount. As they did so the door of the main building swung open and a tall figure appeared on the veranda. He was wearing a threadbare grey Confederate jacket and a peaked cap. Calhoun gave him a quick look. There was something familiar about him.

  ‘Carver,’ one of the outlaws said. ‘We found these two ridin’ down the mountain trail.’

  So it was Carver! Calhoun would have found it difficult to say with certainty that it was so. He only hoped that he had changed sufficiently for Carver not to recognize him. They were ushered up the steps of the veranda and into the building. There was a wooden table and a few chairs but little else. The windows were broken and there was a layer of dust on the floor. One other person was sitting on the ruins of a bunk against the far wall. Two of the outlaws followed them in.

  ‘Take a seat, gentlemen,’ Carver said.

  Carver had his back to Calhoun as he pulled out a chair from behind the table. He turned and sat down. Calhoun looked at him more closely. It was strange to see the man again, to see how the familiar features had been transmogrified into something else. The long hair had gone and the moustaches. He had been slim as a knife. Now he had fattened out and there was a slight stoop to the shoulders. But there was something else that was different and only when Carver was seated and looked up did Calhoun realized what it was. Carver was blind in one eye. The right eye was white and blank.

  ‘Well,’ Carver said. ‘Before I start jumpin’ to any conclusions, perhaps you’d better explain just who you are and what you’re doin’ round here.’

  There was no room now for manoeuvre. It was in at the deep end.

  ‘Perhaps I’d better make some introductions,’ Calhoun began. ‘My name is Watts and this gentleman is a colleague of mine, name of Bingley. He’s a lawyer.’

  Carver remained silent. His one good eye seemed to bore into Calhoun.

  ‘We have some business with a gentleman named Carver. Am I to take it that’s you?’

  Silence filled the room. Calhoun was nervous. He didn’t like to think of how Bingley might be feeling.

  ‘If we have come to the right place, perhaps you could conduct us to this man Carver.’

  ‘I’m Carver.’

  Calhoun glanced around at the other three outlaws. ‘In that case you will be aware of what I have come about. Perhaps we could discuss matters in private?’

  Carver’s eye switched its gaze from Calhoun to Bingley. His mouth puckered for a moment, then he turned his attention back to Calhoun.

  ‘You have the information?’ he said.

  ‘Mr Bingley has all the necessary documents. I think you’ll find they’re all in order.’

  Carver looked thoughtful, then unexpectedly he leaped to his feet. His features were angry and a scar down his cheek suddenly flamed red.

  ‘What the hell do you take me for?’ he yelled. He pulled a gun from its holster. ‘I ought to kill you two right where you stand.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Calhoun began. ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘Is there a problem? Damn right there’s a problem.’ He turned to the outlaw who was sitting on the bunk. ‘Let me do the introductions,’ he said. ‘Whoever you two are, I’d like you to meet Mr Watts.’

  Calhoun tried not to react, not even looking at Watts. Instead he turned to Bingley who raised his eyebrows the merest fraction.

  ‘There must be some mistake,’ Calhoun said.

  Carver turned to the two outlaws standing behind Calhoun. ‘Take ’em and put ’em in the shed,’ he shouted. He turned back to Calhoun. ‘You’re gonna pay for this,’ he snarled. ‘I don’t know what your game is but I aim to find out.’

  Calhoun felt a gun in his back.

  ‘You heard,’ the man said. ‘Start walkin’.’

  Calhoun and Bingley were marched out of the room and down the steps of the veranda. Crossing the yard, they passed another building and continued till they came to a small outhouse, where they were thrust unceremoniously inside. The door slammed and they heard the rattle of keys.

  ‘Well,’ Calhoun said. ‘I guess that didn’t go so well.’

  They looked about but there was nothing they could see. The place was small and very dark. There was no window and it smelled of dank hay and manure. There was a flicker of light as Calhoun scraped a match; the place was illumined for a few seconds before the match burnt out. It revealed nothing of interest. Bingley moved to the door and started to push against it.

  ‘Here, let me have a try,’ Calhoun said.

  He ran at the door and kicked at it but it was solid. After a few more tries they gave up and sank on their haunches against the wall, barely able to see one another.

  ‘Hate to say this,’ Bingley said, ‘but I suffer from claustrophobia.’

  Calhoun brought out his packet of Bull Durham and proceeded to roll a smoke. He offered the pack to Bingley. ‘Might help take your mind off things,’ he said.

  Building a cigarette, Bingley took a deep draught and broke out coughing. At the same moment there came a rattle at the door and they both sprang to their feet. The door opened an inch or two and a figure slipped through it, closing the door behind him. In that brief moment of daylight Bingley thought he recognized Watts.

  ‘Don’t ask questions,’ Watts said. ‘They might come by at any minute.’

  Calhoun was suspicious they were being set up.

  ‘Here, take this,’ Watts added, slipping a package into Calhoun’s hand.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s the plans of the mine.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Calhoun snapped.

  ‘I’ll keep this brief. That money belongs to the Government. I’m a government agent. For the moment I’m in with the outlaws, which makes it difficult to get the information out. That’s your job now.’

  ‘Why should I believe you?’ Calhoun said.

  ‘What choice have you got?’ He passed something else across to Calhoun. It was a gun. ‘Take this as a token I’m tellin’ the truth,’ he said.

  Bingley started to say something but the man stopped him.

  ‘There’s no time,’ he said. ‘You’ll just have to take my word for it. It’s quiet now. I’ll leave the door open. Give me a few minutes and then slip out.’

  Without waiting for any further discussion, he moved to the door and in an instant was gone. Calhoun gave the door a gentle push. It was open.

  ‘What do you think?’ Bingley said. ‘It could be a trap.’

  ‘What would be the point?’ Calhoun responded. ‘They got us cold as it is. We’ll just have to take him at his word.’

  Checking that the gun was loaded, he tucked it into his trouser belt.

  ‘OK,’ he said. ‘He’s had his few minutes. Let’s go.’

  He strode to the door and opened it a fraction. His range of vision was limited but he could see no one. Quickly he stepped through followed by Bingley. The sun had sunk behind the high mountain peaks; it was getting dark and there was a chill in the air. Keeping low and looking about them they made their way to a building behind the corrals, which looked like a stable. They were in luck. A few horses were in their stalls and hanging up at the back was some riding gear.

  ‘Stand guard while I saddle a couple of horses.’

  Calhoun quickly selected two mounts but before he could do anything further Bingley whispered to him:

  ‘Somebody coming.’

  Calhoun moved to the doorway. There were a number of outlaws heading towards the barn.

  ‘Leave it,’ Calhoun breathed. ‘We’ll slip out the back.’

  Quickly and silently they made their way to the runway at the rear and came out at an angle of the corral. A few of the horses
in the corral were jumpy and snorted but the two men had soon passed beyond the corral and into some trees at the back. Moving as quickly as they could through the undergrowth they came out eventually on to the lower slopes of a hillside that overlooked the way station.

  ‘We’ll climb and get round to the other side. At least then we’ll be out of sight.’

  Night had fallen. Fortunately the sky was clouded and there was little chance that anyone would spot them on the hillside. At first the climb was easy but after a time the slope angled up more steeply and it became difficult. The grass was slippery from rain or melted snow and it was not easy to maintain their footing. At one point Bingley slipped and went sliding part of the way down the hill. Calhoun looked up. The top of the hill had looked quite close from the bottom but now it seemed a long way off. A couple of times they approached what they thought was the top, only to find that it was a false summit and the hillside climbed up to further heights.

  Calhoun began to edge sideways and Bingley followed his example and so they moved on and upwards by a crabwise motion. Beneath them lights were springing up at various points. Calhoun wondered how long it would take before their absence was noted. They were moving very slowly, doubled over, sometimes on their hands and knees, clutching at little patches of grass or outcrops of stone. It was very tiring and they were both struggling for breath.

  Again Calhoun looked up. ‘Nearly there,’ he breathed to Bingley, who was a little way below him.

  He waited for Bingley to reach him, then they began to climb the last few yards. It was very steep at this point and Calhoun’s heart was pounding. He was searching for the best places to put his feet and all the while he could hear Bingley gasping and then muttering something beneath his breath. The top of the hill overhung a little but Calhoun’s leg was over the edge and, with a final pull, he was up. Leaning over he grasped Bingley’s outstretched arm and pulled him over the rim of the hillside.

  They lay there on their backs till they had recovered their breath and were feeling in control again. Calhoun looked down at the way station. A light appeared, moving across the yard. It was a lantern and the person carrying it was making his way towards the corral. It moved into a darker area and then disappeared. Seconds later it reappeared and they could both hear a voice shouting something. A few more lights appeared, and then what sounded like a gong. They could distinguish shadowy forms of men moving about. There were more shouts, then a couple of men in the yard mounted horses which were tied at the hitch rack.