Duel at Low Hawk

by Charles G. West

  Burley Chase knelt before the fire, tending a frying pan containing strips of fresh-killed venison, the meat courtesy of the doe he had hunted two days before. “She shoulda knowed I’d be back for her,” he bragged as he turned the strips over with a fork. Lilly had offered to cook the meat, but he insisted that she was his guest, and as such, it wouldn’t be polite to let her do the cooking.

  After some solid food and two nights’ sleep, she was at the point where she could put Boot Stoner out of her mind for long periods of the day. She felt safe for the first time in weeks. And Burley was obviously pleased to have her company. She studied the round little man’s face as he knelt over the fire, and she could not picture him riding with a gang of bushwhackers. Bright blue eyes that seemed a contrast to the bushy dark eyebrows fairly sparkled with good humor when he talked about his days with Bloody Jack Wheeler. The thick gray bush that served as a beard bore traces of acorn coffee and was complemented by gray tufts of hair protruding from each nostril. It was a picture that fascinated the slender Creek girl.

  For his part, Burley was thoroughly enjoying the company. The Indian girl did not, in fact, talk a great deal, but Burley hardly noticed, as he was so busy carrying the conversation without her help. Her presence served to demonstrate to him just how lonely he had been for human company, and he found himself thinking about risking a trip back to find his wife and daughter. Maybe he might even offer to go back with Lilly. But thoughts of Union patrols searching the countryside for outlaw bands like the one he had ridden with still caused him to hesitate. His existence was a lonely one, but certainly preferable to living out his years in a prison cell. Besides, he had been a hermit for so long now that he wasn’t sure he would even be able to leave the security of his mountain cave. Maybe it was best that he didn’t realize exactly how many years had passed since he had made his home here, and that Union patrols had long since given up looking for holdouts like Burley Chase. For the time being, he was content to enjoy Lilly’s company. It would be best for the girl to linger here awhile in case the crazy savage who was after her was, in fact, looking for her in these mountains.

  As each day passed, Lilly gradually lost more and more of the fear that had driven her so desperately. Burley was a kind man, very much like Wendell Stoner had been, and she felt safe in the cave behind the waterfall. Thoughts of reaching her aunt and uncle in Low Hawk were still present in her mind, but the urgency was no longer dominating her every moment. Burley was obviously happy to have her stay as long as she wanted.

  “It’s a right nice evenin’,” Burley said. “If you wanna, we can take our supper outside by the waterfall. Might be nicer than settin’ in this cave.”

  The suggestion appealed to Lilly. They had eaten outside the night before, and it was a pleasant setting indeed. The cave felt safe and secure, and she was thankful for it at night. But she didn’t like the feeling of being inside the ground during the day.

  Outside, the air was fresh and crisp. Spring in the mountains lagged behind the lower climates, but it was finally showing signs in the budding trees and bushes. Soon the foliage above the waterfall would be thick with leaves that would screen any animal from sight. On this early spring day, however, the trees had not filled in to that point, and if Burley or Lilly had chanced to glance up toward the top of the waterfall, they might have noticed the solitary figure standing there.

  He stood motionless, watching for a long time. The beauty and tranquillity of the setting escaped his twisted mind as he took time to gloat over having found her. The fury that had built up in him over the last several days was pacified by the prize of finally tracking her down. He gazed with contempt at the fat little man sitting cross-legged before her, and eagerly awaited the pleasure to be derived from his slaughter.

  Boot had almost given up on his search for Lilly, having lost her trail several times before stumbling onto it again. He had found her tracks at the creek when she had joined someone else, an occurrence that had infuriated him. But he lost their trail when they crossed the river. So for a day and a half after that, he had roamed the mountain, looking for some sign until he decided it was useless to continue. And then he heard a single shot from a carbine on the far side of the mountain. He followed the sound, and searched again until he found the spot where a deer had been killed. It was easy to follow the trail from there. And now, there they were, trapped in a box canyon with no escape. He could feel the adrenaline pumping in his veins as he anticipated the pleasure of the reunion.

  Lilly finished her supper of fresh venison and took her plate to the edge of the stream to wash it. Bathed in the afterglow of the setting sun, she lingered there for a moment more to watch the last rays of sunlight filter through the mist at the base of the waterfall. Suddenly she felt a chill race along her spine when she heard the whisper of an owl’s wings passing directly over her. This was a bad sign, and she sensed something wrong. When she looked up to find the owl, her gaze drifted to the cliff high above her, and the solitary figure standing there. Dismissing it as a shadow, she shifted her gaze again, looking for the owl, but her gaze was instantly drawn back to the figure.

  It was him! For a moment, her heart stopped, then resumed its beating with a rapid pounding in her breast that threatened to explode. She rocked back on her heels. The plate, forgotten, dropped from her hand and drifted a few yards downstream before settling to the bottom. Unable to speak, she simply stared at the apparition for long moments, praying desperately that it was no more than that, a ghost, conjured in her mind, and would disappear as suddenly as it had come. Paralyzed by her fear, she could not move until Boot suddenly made a move, releasing her from the spell. She screamed as he pulled his rifle up and aimed.

  Startled by the girl’s sudden scream, Burley tried to scramble to his feet. In the next instant, a shot rang out, the bullet catching Burley in the shoulder. The impact of the slug spun him around sideways, causing Boot’s second shot to pass harmlessly by his chest. “Run!” Burley yelled as he lunged to his feet. The two of them ran for the waterfall, just managing to disappear behind the cascading water before two more shots ricocheted off the cliff wall behind them.

  Puzzled by the flight to the waterfall by the pair below him, Boot stood waiting for a minute, expecting them to show on the other side of the water. When they did not, he figured there had to be a cave behind the fall. Although the thought served to irritate him, he was smug in the knowledge that they were still trapped. Keeping his eye on the waterfall, he led his horse as he began to work his way down the side of the cliff on foot. He had found her, and she was going to learn a harsh lesson for trying to escape from him. The thought brought a thin smile to his face.

  Inside the cave, Burley and Lilly hurried past the horses in the outer chamber and through the narrow opening to the larger cave. His brain in confusion, Burley immediately grabbed his rifle and, with blood running down his arm, knelt down and trained it on the passage between the two chambers. Lilly ran to him to try to tend to his wound. “Boot!” she kept repeating as she fumbled with his shirt, attempting to clean the wound.

  “Was that the son of a bitch?” Burley asked, his voice shaking, his face grimaced with pain. “He blame-sure put a hole in my shoulder.”

  Fighting her emotions, Lilly tried to stop Burley’s bleeding, still unable to speak beyond repeating, “Boot! Boot!”

  Seeing the young girl’s panic, Burley tried to calm her, even though he was close to that state himself. “We’re all right,” he assured her. “He’s got to come through that openin’ to get to us. And if he does, I’ll pepper his ass good.” Gradually, the glaze of fear left Lilly’s eyes. “Are you sure that’s the man chasin’ you?” Burley asked again. He asked the question with the thought in mind that the shots had been fired at him.

  “I saw him,” Lilly replied. “He was standing at the top of the cliff, just looking down at us.”

  “Well, like I said, he’s got to come through that crack to get at us, so we’ll just wait and see w
hat he does.” Seeing the panic about to reappear in Lilly’s eyes, he tried to reassure her. “We’ve got food and a little bit of water. We can hold out for a good spell, and from what you’ve told me, he ain’t hardly the patient kind.” Reading her face again, he added, “And don’t worry about this wound. I’ll be all right.” He managed a smile for her, then turned his full attention to the opening.

  Moving with the utmost caution, Boot Stoner worked his way down to a point next to the stream, where he paused to take a long look at the sheet of water dropping from the cliff he had just left. It was impossible to see any outline of a cave, if in fact there was one. He had to also allow for the possibility that there was nothing more than a hollow behind the fall and that they might be waiting in ambush. Leaving his horse by the stream, he moved quickly to the other side and dropped to one knee, again waiting and listening.The light was fading fast, so he deemed it best to wait a few minutes more until darkness started to set in.

  He managed to wait for a while, but being a man who had never known patience, he started creeping toward the fall before a hard dark set in, his rifle ready to return fire. But there were no shots as he approached the wall of the cliff. He slowly edged along behind the curtain of crashing water until he came to the opening to the cave. Dropping immediately to the ground when he heard movements inside the dark opening, he peered into the cave, searching for a target. Still there were no shots to greet him.

  He lay there for a few moments, his eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness. As he stared, the moving objects slowly took shape, and he realized then that they were horses. Beyond them, a faint light revealed a narrow opening in the back wall. Moving up beside the opening, he hesitated to expose himself long enough to look inside, so he took his hat off and placed it on the end of his rifle barrel. Staying close to the wall, he held the hat out in front of the opening. It was immediately knocked off the rifle with a bullet hole through the crown, just as he expected.

  “Lilly!” he roared. “Come outta there and I won’t hurt the old man.”

  Inside, Burley shook his head at Lilly. To Boot, he yelled back, “Tell you what—why don’t you just come on in?”

  “Lilly, if you don’t come on out,” Boot returned, “I’ll kill the old man.” He waited a moment. “If you come on out now, I won’t hurt you. But if you don’t, I’ll make you wish you never was born.”

  “You can go to hell,” Burley answered. “She ain’t comin’ out.”

  Burning with rage over the apparent impasse, Boot took a few steps away from the wall, enough to give him an angle to shoot through the opening without exposing himself. The sudden explosive combination of gunfire and startled horses reverberated around the outer cave as he pumped half a dozen shots through the narrow passage. His fury demanded some restitution, even though he knew there was very little likelihood he would hit anything. He listened as the sound of ricocheting bullets came back to him from inside. On the other side of the opening, Lilly and Burley hugged the wall on one side as Boot’s slugs found purchase in the hard clay and rock of the inner chamber.

  When the noise caused by Boot’s frustrated barrage died away, and the only sound was that of the two horses as they bolted, frightened, through the waterfall, Boot waited and listened. After several tense moments, he called out again. “This is the last chance I’m givin’ you. Come on outta there.” No reply came back to him this time. All was silent in the cave.

  On the other side of the passage, Burley motioned for Lilly to keep silent. “Let him think he mighta hit somethin’,” he whispered. Then he sat with his back against the wall and his rifle aimed at the entrance, hoping Boot would become impatient enough to come in.

  Seconds ticked away. Boot knelt, glaring at the narrow opening, his frustration growing with each moment.Still there was no sound from inside the cave. I might have hit one of them, he thought, maybe both of them. He thought it over, considering the odds of charging through the entrance, blazing away. And they might just be playing possum, hoping I come through that opening. The more he thought about it, the bigger the likelihood seemed that they wanted him to come in. He had to admit that they were at an impasse. They couldn’t come out, and he couldn’t go in after them. Then another thought occurred to him, one he had forgotten about.

  Remembering, he chuckled to himself. “I got just the thing to take care of them two,” he said. Running back to his horse, he reached into his saddlebags and retrieved the two sticks of dynamite he had taken from Fannin’s store. Hurrying to return to the cave, he quickly crawled up beside the opening. Placing the sticks near the foot of the narrow entrance, he lit both fuses, waited for a brief second to make sure they were lit, then ran back outside. Giving the explosives plenty of room, he passed behind the sheet of falling water and ran toward his horse.

  There was a muffled thump, as though some supernatural giant had pounded the earth with a heavy hammer, followed by a deafening roar, and a thick black cloud mushroomed out of the mouth of the cave. The cloud of smoke and dirt infused with the waterfall, the water flattening it to spread across the meadow, where his horse was tied.

  Feeling the ground tremble beneath his feet, Boot stood transfixed for a long moment, in awe of the magnitude of the explosion. Then, delighted with the apparent results, he made his way back into the cave, holding his bandanna over his mouth and nose as he moved through the thick black haze. Reaching the back wall of the outer chamber, however, he found that instead of blowing a hole in it, the dynamite had caused the dividing wall to collapse, effectively sealing off the entrance completely. “Damn!” he swore. Taking out his knife, he made a few futile stabs at the wall of dirt and rocks in a desperate attempt to dig a hole through. He soon realized that it was impossible, and his anger threatened to choke him.

  Reeling with frustration, he backed away a few steps to glare at the wall he had created. Gaining some measure of control over his emotions, he took a calmer look at the problem. “All right,” he conceded. “I can’t get in, but by God, they can’t get out.” Stepping back closer to the wall, he yelled, “I told you to come outta there, you coyote bitch. Now you’re in the ground for good. I bet you wish you was with ol’ Boot now.”

  Inside the earthen tomb, Lilly crawled on hands and knees, trying her best not to breathe in the thick, dirty air that filled the chamber. Faint sounds of Boot’s ranting from outside came to her, but she could not make out the words. Her concern was for Burley. The round little man had not called to her after the explosion, and the air was so thick with dirt and smoke that she could no longer see him. Making her way across the littered floor of the cave, she found him. Half his body was buried under a massive mound of dirt and rock, and his eyes stared unseeing into hers. She at once recoiled in horror, then reached out to touch him. There was no response, only the cold, sightless stare.

  Panic-stricken at first, realizing she was sealed in this silent tomb, she backed away from the body and sat weeping on the floor. Her confusion lasted for only a short while before her will to survive returned to calm her. Her one chance for escape came to her then—the smoke hole. In frantic eagerness, she crawled over to the fire, still glowing with dying coals. Looking up to the top of the cave, she could just barely make out the small opening some twenty feet above her. From the floor of the cave, she found it hard to judge if she could squeeze her body through it. The problem was secondary to the question of whether or not she could climb up the back wall of the cave to reach the hole. She told herself that, if she could somehow reach it, she would damn sure find a way to squeeze through it.

  The problem facing her at the moment was the lack of light in the cave, the only source being the fire— and it was dying. She considered building it up again, but that would make it too hot for her to climb up the wall behind it. There was no time to waste on building a fire, anyway. The faint light coming through the smoke hole was already growing dim.

  She gathered the few things she could carry for her survival, knowing that if she rea
ched the hole, she was not coming back down. She bundled them up in one of Burley’s shirts and tied them with a rope. The free end she tied around her ankle and prepared to ascend the wall.

  There was little effort required to reach a stone ledge about six feet above the fire pit. After that, there was a long expanse before reaching a narrow rocky shelf. Standing on the ledge, she went to work with her knife, carving out hand- and footholds. It was not easy, and she almost decided it was impossible, but when she thought of the alternative, she forced herself upward, inch by painful inch. By the time she reached the rock shelf, she was climbing in almost total darkness, feeling her way up the wall, holding on with one hand while digging hand- and toeholds with the other.

  Straining to get both feet on the shelf, she felt her strength draining away, and a new feeling of panic began to overcome her. She thought that if she could just get her feet up under her, she could rest for a moment. This was when she felt a faint whisper of fresh air upon her face. It was enough to encourage her to continue climbing, for she knew she was getting close to the opening. Reaching deep inside her frail body for strength, she pushed upward, digging each handhold, until finally she reached up and felt the edge of the opening.