McAllister 2

by Matt Chisholm

  “Are you going to tell me exactly who you are and why you’re here?” he asked.

  “Yes. You know my name. You may also know that my family is related to the Espadas and Blades who are to be found on both sides of the Border. I heard of the gold through one of Ignacio’s many female cousins who is an Espada. I was near Crewsville at the time on one of my father’s estancias. Now I must tell you what kind of a woman I am—one who is more often found among the Anglos than among Mexican women, and then even shock the Anglos somewhat. I am a woman who refuses to be married off to some wealthy nonentity chosen by my father—who, incidentally, does not have the same taste in men that I do. Which is one reason why I was at the estancia. I had been sent there in disgrace. What has this to do with the gold, you ask. At the estancia, I was under the watchful eye of a man who has watched over me since I was a little girl, a man very loyal both to myself and to my father. Jesus was his name. And if I ever weep for any man and his death, it should be for him.”

  “Yet you haven’t wept.”

  “I haven’t wept. I told this man that I was determined to break out of my old life and make a new one for myself. For a Mexican woman of my class, that is like saying she wishes to commit suicide. The only way a woman can make her own life is to become a whore. And I am not a whore by nature. So I had to find money that would give me my independence. I snatched at the gossip I heard about the gold. I talked to the woman and learned all that she knew. I saddled a horse and was determined to intercept Arbiter and Ignacio and the others. Jesus tried to make me change my mind. What he could not do was use force to prevent me going and I knew it. But still I persisted and, rather than let me go alone, he came with me. And now he is dead.”

  She ended with a despairingly sad note in her voice that McAllister did not miss.

  He said: “He won’t be the last man to die for this gold.”

  “You think I’m crazy.”

  “Maybe a woman in your position has to be a mite crazy to strike out for independence. You’re defying your whole world.”

  “It seemed worth doing until Jesus was killed.”

  “Well, for sure, it’s no use living with regrets. That won’t bring him to life again. Your problem will be to stay alive yourself. If you manage that, you have to worry about how you make a claim on gold which you have no claim to.”

  She hunched her thin shoulders. “I have failed before I started. Your first idea of me is confirmed—I am a stupid and selfish rich girl.”

  “No, ma’am,” he said in English, “I don’t think that.”

  She brought her face out of profile and turned to look at him. “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re one hell of a woman. The most woman I ever saw.”

  She reached out a hand and laid it on his arm. He was conscious of her touch right through his body. She said: “You’re one of those nice men who say the right thing at the right time.”

  He brought them back to reality. “What you and I have to be thinkin’ of,” he said, “is who’s dropping them beans. If we don’t find that out, the only one who’s going to get that gold is the sheriff.”

  She withdrew her hand and said in a businesslike tone: “How much can you trust Jack Clegg?”

  “I’m not sure,” he told her. “Which has to mean not at all.”

  “I thought so. And the others?”

  “The same answer applies.”

  “So it’s you and me,” she said.

  He smiled—“And can we trust each other?”

  “You have to trust somebody.”

  He said: “I never found that absolutely necessary.”

  It was her turn to smile—“I hoped you’d say that. I think I ought to hate you a little.”

  “So long as it’s only a little.”

  She rose. “I must creep back to my blankets. By this time tomorrow we must know who is leaving a trail.”

  “That’s about the size of it.”

  “Goodnight, McAllister. I’m glad I found you among this unlikely lot.”

  “So’m I, ma’am. Goodnight.”

  She stood up and half turned back to him as if to speak again, but changed her mind and walked off into the darkness. McAllister thought: A man could lose his head over a woman like that. I wonder if that's what I just did. I wonder also how much of that was true.

  ~*~

  At midnight, Manuel relieved him. The Mexican tried to engage him in conversation. He did not like the idea of being left alone in the dark on the mountainside. McAllister did not like leaving him alone in the dark on the mountainside. His hesitation was justified later when the sleeping camp was abruptly woken in the small hours of the morning by Manuel blazing away at something he had seen. He swore that it was a man who had ignored his challenge. Nobody believed him. Ignacio offered to take his place and the rest were pleased when he accepted.

  Manuel retired to his blankets with hurt dignity, swearing that he had saved all their lives and that they would regret not believing him. “You see,” he cried, “we will all be murdered in our beds.” But he fell into a profound sleep within seconds.

  ~*~

  They were awake before dawn and in the saddle as daylight spread over the land. McAllister saw that the girl had that marvelous capacity to come wide awake in an instant, cheerful and sociable from the moment of wakening. He compared her to his surly early morning self.

  The riders lined out without bother, the little burros trotting neat-stepped. They were moving through a tangle of rocks, brush and small canyons. It was hard to tell when you were in a canyon and when you were not at times. They turned and twisted so that one moment there was a deep valley to the right of them and the next one to the left of them. Ten minutes later they would be in deep close country which would open out again. With dramatic suddenness.

  Towards the middle of the morning, they were wending their way through some gigantic rocks which reared their heads a hundred or two hundred feet above them. To their left was a cliff-face of about five hundred feet. To their right a long sweep of valley, almost concealed from them by the rocks. By this time McAllister had retrieved a dozen beans and he was only worried that he may have missed some. The nature of the country meant that the whole train was not under his eye all the time. Sometimes he could see no more than the man immediately in front of him. Now, for a moment, he thought he had everybody showing. Then he counted them and found one missing. It was Ignacio. He rode forward along the column asking if anybody had seen where Ignacio had gone. Nobody had noticed him go except Charlie Arbiter.

  “He went to relieve himself. Can’t a feller take a quiet shit without you wanting to know the whys and wherefores of it?”

  “Which way did he go?”

  “Off to the right there.”

  McAllister left the trail and turned into the rocks. Almost at once, he picked up the prints of Ignacio’s mount. He found the man about thirty paces away from the trail. He was pulling up his pants. When he saw McAllister, he smiled and said: “Checking on me, McAllister?”

  “There’s been one man killed already,” said McAllister.

  The man tied his trousers, mounted and rode past McAllister without a word.

  McAllister took a good look out along the valley. He thought he saw a wisp of dust and reached for the glass. In a moment, he picked up the posse riding in Indian file. He wondered if they would come to a halt when they reached the goat track. He hoped so. He wanted to delay the blood-bath as long as possible. Maybe if the delay was long enough, he could avoid it altogether.

  Riding back to the trail, he wondered who would stand with him when it came to it. He had a feeling that Clegg would light out to parts unknown. He could not see many of the Mexicans making a fight of it.

  When he reached the trail, he found that the others had continued on, but the girl was waiting for him.

  “You should have kept with the others,” he said. “I don’t doubt there’s Indians around.”

  She said: “Maybe I
feel safer with you.” He smiled and said lightly: “That could be an insult to a man of my age.”

  “Why did you follow Ignacio?”

  “It wasn’t safe for him to be alone.” But that was a lie. There were other ways of communicating with the men following them besides dropping the telltale beans. He knew that the Mexican could have easily signaled their position to Southern with a small hand mirror.

  She looked at him as if she knew that he was lying. He told himself that he should not underestimate her. They hurried forward and caught up the others. As they rode, he saw another bean and swooped from the saddle to pick it up. Charlie Arbiter, at the rear of the column now, looked back at him with suspicion in his eyes.

  Now, suddenly, they came to soft going and McAllister knew that the only way to lose their tracks here would be to sweep them out. This could not be done without great loss of time. So once more he ran over the map he carried in his head. He halted the column and asked which way they should now be headed.

  Charlie Arbiter was ready with his answer. From where they now stood the peak Hernando rose immediately in front of them, a great sprawling mountain with many miles of slight gradient and then a few of a very steep climb.

  “Can you see the thin Pencil Rock? There, just below the large cave.”

  McAllister used his glass. It took him a minute or two, but finally he lined up on an extraordinarily slender rock which thrust skyward like a spear.

  “I got it.”

  “You won’t go far wrong if you now head straight for that.”

  McAllister wondered if this was merely an interim target which concealed Charlie’s final direction. Most likely.

  He said: “All right, then, Jack, I want you to lead out to the north-west. See those birches by the large almost round rock? Go around the left of that. You’ll find water there which will take you to some malpais. Cross the malpais, but listen for my directions.”

  Jack said: “Keno.”

  Charlie said: “What in hell’re you playin’ at, McAllister? That’ll take us plumb out of our way.”

  “Not for long it won’t. Go ahead, Jack.”

  Clegg rode forward. The Mexicans, influenced by Arbiter’s words, hesitated. “Salvador, will you stay back with me?”

  Salvador looked at his partners. They said nothing. So Salvador stayed where he was. McAllister saw the girl watching him as her horse walked on. McAllister said to the Mexican: “Southern’s Indian will maybe guess we’re heading for the malpais, but maybe we can delay him a mite. Every hour counts. So you and I wipe out our tracks for a ways back.” The Mexican nodded and they rode back down the trail.

  As they rode, McAllister made up his mind. He had to find out who was trying to help the pursuit, who was in cahoots with Southern and would pretty soon sell out to him. So McAllister reckoned he had to put a scare into him.

  Salvador and he halted and dismounted. They left the trail to cut brush, then wiped out their tracks from the trail to the bush. Then they started sweeping the trail itself.

  It was hot work in the sun even at this altitude. They stopped for a breather.

  McAllister said: “The reason I wanted you to stay back with me, Salvador, was that I had to speak with you.”

  “Speak.”

  “Somebody is laying a trail for the sheriff to follow.”

  Salvador looked startled, but he did not fully understand. “A trail? How a trail?”

  McAllister took a handful of beans from his pocket and held them out in the palm of his hand for the man to see. Salvador looked shocked and lifted his gaze from the beans to McAllister’s face.

  He was puzzled. “It cannot be one of us partners. Why should a man betray his partners?”

  “Which means you think it must be Clegg, the girl or me.”

  “You must admit that is the way it seems.”

  “I believe that it is one of your people, Salvador.”

  The Mexican put both hands flat on his chest—“My God, you don’t think it is me, Don Remington?”

  “I don’t know, do I? Just remember this —Jack Clegg and I are in pretty awkward positions. We’re outlaws according to Southern back there. Anybody that kills us will only be congratulated for saving the taxpayers’ money. So my worries are not quite your worries. It could be Clegg. I know little about him. He could have been planted on me in jail. The breakout from jail could have been a put-up job.”

  “And the girl?” said Salvador. “Did we come upon her by accident or were we intended to find her?”

  McAllister smiled. “I see that you have a healthily suspicious mind.”

  Salvador almost smiled, but not quite. “A fortune in gold,” he said, “produces in a man characteristics which he never knew he had.”

  “Well,” said McAllister, “I’m a man who runs on instinct. Because I find it pays. You take as you find. My instinct tells me it’s one of yours, Salvador.”

  “At least you are being honest with me. But why? Surely, if the guilty man knows you suspect him, he will be a danger to you. Specially as you are an outlaw and anyone may kill you with impunity.”

  McAllister said: “That’s why I’m telling you. Human nature being what it is, you will tell the man you trust most. And he will do the same, until all of you know that I suspect one of you is betraying the others. Then he will be forced into the open.”

  “You are either very brave or very reckless and foolish, my friend.”

  McAllister shook his head. “I’ve spent my life being quicker than the other man. We don’t have time for subtlety. I want this son-of-a-bitch out in the open, fast.”

  “Son-of-a-bitch” sounded rather well in Spanish.

  Salvador looked bemused by it all. He started sweeping the trail again. Fifteen minutes later, they were riding after the rest of the company which by that time had reached the middle of the malpais. McAllister directed Jack Clegg a little to his left and pretty soon they made their way through some willows and there was shallow clear water laughing over small rocks. They walked across this for a quarter of a mile and came to soft going. McAllister told the others to ride on and stopped behind to sweep their tracks from the water to about a hundred paces into the scattered brush which lay ahead of them. Within the hour, they were starting the first easy climb of the mountain. When at noon McAllister checked their back-trail, he could find nothing. During the morning, he had picked up another couple of dozen beans.

  At the noon halt, which was on the shores of a small lake among birch trees, they put the horses and donkeys on fair grass under guard. The guard this time was Charlie Arbiter.

  When he had eaten, McAllister walked from camp to where the animals were grazing. Old Charlie was smoking his pipe with his back to the bole of a tree.

  McAllister said: “Charlie, take off your coat.”

  Charlie started gobbling in protest and anger, so McAllister said: “You old bastard, I’m on to you. Take it off.”

  Charlie reached for his hide-away and as it came out from under his coat, McAllister batted it out of his hand. The old man looked as if he would burst into tears.

  He started gobbling incoherently again.

  McAllister said: “I’m on to you, Charlie. Take it off.”

  Charlie stood up and took off his jacket. McAllister took it from him, drew his knife and slashed both side pockets. The beans streamed out on to the ground.

  The old man said: “So I carry beans in my pockets—”

  “You’re in cahoots with Southern.”

  “That’s a lie.”

  “For God’s sake, Charlie, what’s all this about? I thought you were desperate for the gold. Why share it with Southern as well as your partners?”

  “You don’t understand,” the old man said.

  “You bet your sweet life I don’t.”

  “I’ll share half with you if you keep your mouth shut.”

  McAllister turned and walked away. Ten yards away he stopped to turn back.

  “Charlie,” he said. �
��If I catch you at that kind of game again I’ll tie you an’ leave you for the goddam Indians. And you’d best believe me.”

  The old man clenched his fists and stamped his feet with impotent rage. Back at camp, McAllister sat apart from the others. Ignacio came up and sat beside him, then spoke in a low voice so that the others could not hear.

  “I have something to tell you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Salvador has told me what you said to him, McAllister.”

  “So?”

  “The man you have to watch is Manuel. I have seen him drop the beans.”

  “Why didn’t you speak of it before?”

  “He is a kinsman. A man hesitates to give away kin.”

  “But you finally decided to do it?”

  “For all our sakes. What loyalty does a man owe to a traitor?”

  “That’s a good question,” said McAllister. “Thanks for your confidence, Ignacio.”

  Ignacio walked away, sat down with his back to a rock and tilted his hat over his eyes. McAllister saw the girl walking towards him. When she stood in front of him and he sat admiring her slender body in its male garb, she said: “You don’t look as if you’re in a conversational mood.”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m not pleased to see you.”

  She sat on the ground and said: “So what’s the bad news? You look as if you had plenty.”

  “Are you going to tell me you know who’s been dropping the beans?”

  She looked surprised. “No. Should I know?”

  He said: “Girl, I don’t know why you’re here, but I wish to God you weren’t.”

  She flushed a little with anger. “I told you why. You mean you don’t believe me?”

  “I know there’s going to be a God-awful blow-up before we’re all through. I can see the business going bad right in front of my eyes. There’s a sheriff’s posse right on our tail and we have at least one traitor among us. For all I know, we have two.”

  She turned her head and looked straight at him. “There’s no possible reason why you have to stay. Why don’t you cut and run?”

  “Maybe I want to come out of these hills heavy with gold.”

  She tilted her head on one side. “You don’t strike me as a man who would lose his head over gold.”