by Ben Boulden
“You fellas done it now!” Romms said as he rode past. “Jack in one of his moods and you two standing around like spent turkeys.” He laughed at his own wit.
They passed through the narrow canyon into a wide lush valley enclosed on all sides by rising canyon walls. The valley a mile in diameter, maybe a little more. The only obvious access to the valley, the entrance J.D. and the others used. The creek crawled along its western edge. It ran full at its entrance to the valley, but an earth mounded dam captured the water to form a pool of shimmering blue. Only a trickle escaped from its bottom edge. Its shoreline marked by the monochromatic greens and grays of trees and brush.
Fifty yards from the pond sat a rectangular plantation-style two-story whitewashed house. Its design foreign, but welcoming in the red desert landscape. An English flower garden colored with blues, purples, reds and yellows blossomed outside its front doors and, closer to the water, a large vegetable garden being worked by a handful of women and a dozen children. The women and children stood and watched the approaching riders with an air of nervousness. The women called for the children to stay close and keep at the work.
The house was built near the sheer western canyon wall where it would be shaded from the worst of the afternoon sun. Across the valley, five or six hundred yards, its back against the canyon’s eastern edge, stood a low-roofed bunk house. A large raised-roof barn, red with white trimmings, seemed to stand sentinel over another smaller canyon. Its opening closed off by a post fence, the murmur and smell of cattle escaped the barrier.
As J.D. and the others approached the house, a tall lean man, white hair and long beard beneath an old-fashioned beaver pelt stovepipe hat, stepped from the house and beckoned the riders towards him. When they pulled up he said, ignoring both Rockwell and Romms, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Blaze. I have heard much about you and your wife. I’m assured she is quite a beauty.”
J.D. noted the almost worn out southern drawl—remnants of a Texas or Louisiana childhood—nodded, attempted a meaningless smile, pulled back when pain blossomed in his sun-burned lips.
“You heard right, Mr. Skousen, Kate is a beautiful woman,” J.D. said. “But I wouldn’t recommend telling her. For your own health.” Then: “You’re Levi Skousen?”
“Please call me Brother Skousen, my friend.” He removed the stovepipe, bowed politely.
“I would offer my hand,” J.D. said. “But they are otherwise occupied.”
“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Blaze, but my boys can be”—he paused as if thinking for the most correct word—“excessive, at times.” Skousen replaced the stovepipe on his head. Then turned to Rockwell. “Would you please help Mr. Blaze from his saddle?”
Rockwell, without speaking, dismounted his horse, untied J.D.’s hands from the saddle horn, while Romms untied each leg from the stirrups. Then the two men eased him from the saddle. J.D. nearly fell when his boots hit the ground. His legs liquid, a prickly sensation rippled through his hands and arms as the blood began to flow. He wanted to scream from the pain, but his pride demanded more. It was bad enough Rockwell’s steadying grasp was the difference between standing and a mouthful of dirt.
When J.D. was set, Skousen stepped to within a foot of him. His breath sour and, despite his clean appearance, his fragrance musky and harsh. “Where is your wife, Mr. Blaze?”
J.D. licked his lips, sucked on his tongue for a moment. “My mouth’s cotton, Mr.—Brother—Skousen. A drink would be welcome.”
Skousen sneered. He turned back to Rockwell. “Take him to the barn.” Then, yelling, he called to a woman who worked in the garden. “Sister Mary, fetch some water and take it to the barn.” A middle-aged woman, without saying a word, hurried to the house.
CHAPTER 18
Father Pacheco led the women to what, at a distance, appeared to be nothing more than a blemish on the rock’s surface. As they approached, the blemish grew into a narrow fissure. Its opening less than three feet wide at its base, climbed dozens of vertical feet up the canyon wall, narrowing until it disappeared into a small crack.
Father Pacheco dismounted his horse, took its reins and turned to the women, said, “We walk from here.”
The tunnel’s sandy floor was difficult to traverse at first, but as Kate became accustomed to its shifting grasp it also became, if not completely pleasant, more comfortable to walk on. Her horse had little trouble following and became more surefooted with each step. The air temperature dropped noticeably a few feet into the cavern. A gentle breeze stirred Kate’s hair and caused a chill as it dried the sweat from her face and arms. The cave-like blackness she expected was instead a shadowy yellow-orange glow.
Kate said, “Where does the light come from, Father?”
“An opening ahead,” Father Pacheco said. “Where the cavern meets the sky.”
Kate was exhilarated by the tunnel. The light a defused glow, almost heavenly after the harsh glare of the afternoon sun. Its walls widening, gently at first and then more rapidly, as they walked farther inside the mesa. It curved gently to the right and then the tunnel’s ceiling rose swiftly overhead and the walls dropped away to reveal a large crescent-shaped room. Blue sky shimmered from an oval opening more than two hundred feet above the floor. A dampness cluttered the air and steady dripping noises whispered from an alcove to Kate’s right where ferns clung to the sandstone walls. The hanging ferns were fed by water running down the walls before it cascaded into a clear pool.
“It’s beautiful.” Kate dropped the reins of her horse, while taking in the exotic and unexpected cavern. “An oasis.”
Father Pacheco laughed deeply, then said, “In the desert.”
“Hell with the desert,” Kate said. “An oasis actually inside a sandstone mesa. I’ve never seen anything like it. Or imagined anything like it.”
“A marvel of God.” Father Pacheco looked at Kate and smiled. “It is also a place very few people know about.”
“Is the water good for drinking?” Beth asked as she approached the pooling liquid.
“Yes,” Father Pacheco said. “It is cleansed by the stone as it passes from the surface to the pool here.”
Beth went to her knees, with cupped hands drew water into her mouth. She sighed contentedly before drinking more. She took her bonnet off and splashed water on her face and head before lying back in the sand. She laughed, almost giddily, then said, “It’s the best I’ve ever tasted!” She sat up and drank again.
“Not too much, Beth, or it will make you sick,” Kate said. Then to the priest, “Is this always here?”
Father Pacheco nodded. “I have never found it dry in twenty years. Rain or not the water falls from the rock.”
Kate followed Beth to the pool. She drew water to her mouth, enjoyed the cold wet feel of it on her tongue. “I never thought I’d find cold water in this wasteland.” She washed the dust from her face and stood, then helped Beth to her feet. To Father Pacheco she said, “Is there a place to keep the horses?”
He pointed to a tiny copse of cottonwood trees that reached for the circle of sky near the center of the cavern. “There,” he said. “There is food enough, but unless we want the horses fouling the pool we’ll need to fetch water.”
“We’ll fetch water,” Kate said. Then to Beth, “Would you take the horses into the trees, unsaddle yours. In my left saddlebag you’ll find a collapsing bucket. Please fill it with water and let the horses drink?”
Beth smiled demurely, even curtsied, before she turned towards the entrance of the cavern where the horses stood abandoned.
Kate turned to the priest, said, “How long can we stay here?”
“As long as we need.”
“It’s safe?”
Father Pacheco nodded. A smile formed on his face. A face, Kate decided in that instant, she liked very much. “Very few people know of it and all who do live in Lugar Bonito.” He paused for a moment. “And no one there will hurt us.”
“They won’t help us, either.” Kate immediately felt a sta
b of guilt when Father Pacheco’s face fell.
“I am sorry about that,” he said.
“Me too. And I’m sorry I said it.”
Father Pacheco nodded, but the misery remained visible on his face. “They have been through much…” He didn’t finish his thought and he didn’t need to. Kate knew why the few remaining people in Lugar Bonito were unable to help. They were beaten and broken by a man who came to this beautiful, hard place with a single purpose: to gain wealth and power on the backs of its inhabitants.
“How far is Reed’s place from here?” Kate asked, changing the subject.
“Not far—”
A sound.
Something out of place in the rock’s interior. The jingle of a spur, maybe, Kate thought. She hushed Father Pacheco with a hand to her mouth, the other cupped to her ear. The priest frowned. He looked at Kate, then at the tunnel. He shook his head.
“Take Beth deeper into the cave,” she whispered. The priest nodded and quickly retreated towards the copse of trees where Beth was watering the horses.
Kate turned away from the priest’s retreating figure. She stared hard at the tunnel, listened intently. The echoing drumbeat of falling water overwhelmed her ears. The tunnel’s shadows stymied her vision. The comparative darkness between the tunnel and the cavern made her blind to its secrets, but she knew an intruder would have little trouble seeing her. She eased the Colt from its holster, crept along the sandstone wall towards the tunnel’s opening. She moved in a crouch, kept as low to the floor as she could.
Kate stopped. Sweat beaded on her brow. A whisper of cold dread prickled the back of her neck.
It came again. The noise. Quiet, intangible, but there.
Another sound. This one louder and more threatening. A whoosh and slide. The noise reminded Kate of watching a timber rattler scurry across soft earth pursuing a rabbit into its hole. She heard the metallic click a fraction before the earsplitting boom of a gunshot.
Kate dropped to the sandy floor, scanned the tunnel for a target, but saw only shadow.
Flame erupted. A geyser of dirt sprayed into the air a few feet from Kate’s head. The sound deafening in the enclosed area. Kate fired once towards the muzzle flash, the revolver’s kick comforting in her hand. She rolled to her left in an attempt to reach the cover of an ancient rock fall a few feet away.
A third shot echoed, but Kate didn’t hear it. Her vision blurred, began to darken at the edges, and then fiery pain erupted in her shoulder. She shouted for Beth and Pacheco to run, but she emitted only a pain-rattled scream.
CHAPTER 19
The woman Levi Skousen called Sister Mary carried a bucket of water to J.D. Her dress a crisp, if dirty, peach color. Her long brown hair severely pulled back with a ponytail and the markings of middle-age on her tired face. J.D., one wrist chained to an iron loop fastened to the barn wall, sat on the floor and watched her timidly approach. She placed the bucket on the barn’s dirt floor a few inches outside J.D.’s reach, then with her left foot pushed it toward him. Its water splashed, a few drops spotting the dirt.
“Thank you.”
The woman backed away a few feet, smiled grudgingly. Then made a point of studying the worn black leather of her shoes. “You’re welcome, sir.”
J.D. returned her smile. He remained seated so not to frighten the woman. “Please call me J.D.”
The woman smiled nervously and nodded almost imperceptibly. “J.D.,” she said. “I also brought you soap and a towel.” She tossed the two items, a sliver of lye wrapped in what appeared to be a cut up piece of worn-out gingham dress.
J.D. said, “What can I call you?”
The woman’s pale face turned scarlet. The heavy wrinkles above her brow radiated embarrassment. She said quietly, “You can call me Sister Mary.”
“Are you Brother Skousen’s wife?”
Sister Mary nodded. “Yes, sir.” She paused for several seconds then said, “He took me as his tenth wife when my family died.”
J.D. nodded. Then reached into the bucket with his free hand, pulled water to his mouth. He repeated the action more than once, then smacked his lips in appreciation. He looked up at Sister Mary. “Best water I’ve ever had.”
“It comes from the creek.” Sister Mary took another step back.
J.D. said, “Where are you going?”
“You need privacy.” Sister Mary studied her scuffed leather shoes again.
J.D. decided he liked this woman. He laughed gently. “No, ma’am. Company is preferred to privacy at the moment. It’s been a long day. And not one I’m fond of, either. Would you stay a few minutes?”
“I really couldn’t,” she said, but held her ground. Then, “I was told to take the bucket when you’re finished.”
“That settles it,” J.D. said. “I’ll be only a few minutes and you can keep me company while I refresh myself.”
Sister Mary nodded. “I guess I could do that.” Her voice soft, surprisingly gentle for such a large woman.
“How long have you been married to Brother Skousen?”
She looked back at the door she’d entered. It was still closed tightly the way she’d left it. She hesitated for a moment, then said, “Six years.”
J.D. finished soaping his face, splashed a handful of water on it. Then another. When he was finished he looked back at the woman. “How is it, being married to the richest man in the desert?”
Sister Mary fidgeted. She looked back at the door again. “I really shouldn’t speak to you.”
J.D. smiled the warmest, most lopsided grin he could muster under the circumstances. “No harm meant, I’m nosy is all.” He splashed water on his hair. Shook his head like a dog. “That feels nice.”
“It’s not so bad,” Sister Mary said.
“The water?” J.D. said. “It’s wonderful. Thank you for bringing it.”
“No—” Sister Mary stuttered. “I mean, uh. I mean Brother Skousen. It’s not so bad a life. He took me in as an old woman and he treats me well. Not like a wife, really, but he takes care of me. Makes sure I have clothes and food. His younger wives get his other attentions.” She paused. Closed her eyes for several seconds before she continued. “Not that I blame him. I mean, I’m an old woman, and some of the younger girls are so beautiful.”
“You’re not so old as that,” J.D. said. “I reckon most men would be proud to have you.”
She blushed so red J.D. thought her heart was going to fail.
“But I’m glad to hear Skousen treats you well.” J.D. looked at Sister Mary, trying his best to look innocent, curious, and sincere. “How many wives does he have?”
“Twenty,” she said quickly, apparently relieved to change the conversation away from herself. “But—”
J.D. cocked an eyebrow. “But what?”
“Well,” she said, stared at her shoes again. Completely still for a moment. She looked up with a helpless smile at the possibility of a little harmless gossip. “I shouldn’t say,” she said in a hushed voice. “But, since, well…” She trailed off. “I guess it won’t hurt nothing.” She took three small steps toward J.D., leaned in a little. “There are two more coming. A fine young woman from Small Basin. The Jensen girl. Fair as a flower and—” She glanced over her shoulder at the barn’s door. Then turned back. “A little Mexican gal. They brought her in a few days ago. Didn’t see her, but they say she’s real pretty.”
J.D. nodded approvingly. “Lucky man.”
“He is that, Mr. Blaze.” She nearly gushed with excitement at the prospect of the new wives.
“When’s the big day, or will there be two big days?” J.D. said, trying to keep her talking.
“Oh,” she said, getting into the gossip. “Well. I don’t know for sure, but it’ll be soon. They have the Mexican in the house. She’s in the room next to Brother Skousen’s. Where he keeps the special ones, but she’s off limits to everyone. At least until the marriage. I’d guess the ceremony will be in a few days. And then the Jensen girl will join us in a week or t
wo. But who knows? It’s so exciting, don’t you think?”
J.D. just smiled.
“It is,” she said. “It really is—” The sound of the barn door swinging open on its iron hinges stopped Sister Mary cold. She turned pale and a blood vessel at her temple began to tremble with her heart. She looked at J.D., panicky fear in her eyes.
J.D. brought a finger to his lips, winked.
“Mr. Blaze,” Skousen said as he walked into the barn. “You’re ready for our counsel?” As he approached he wordlessly touched Sister Mary on the shoulder. She stepped forward quickly, retrieved the bucket from the floor.
Before Sister Mary could leave, J.D.—his hand outstretched with the towel and soap—said, “Thank you, ma’am. You don’t want to forget these.”
Sister Mary nodded slightly as she took the items from J.D. and retreated towards the door where she stopped to allow Rockwell’s entrance into the barn.
“Any luck?” Rockwell said to Skousen.
“Just getting started,” Skousen said.
Rockwell gave an exaggerated look of disappointment on his face. “I was hoping it would be my turn.”
“You’ll get your chance,” Skousen said. “If Mr. Blaze is less than forthcoming.”
J.D. groaned.
“I think you already hit a sore spot, Brother Skousen.”
“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” J.D. looked at Rockwell. “I’m just tired of being hit.”
“We’ll see,” said Skousen.
CHAPTER 20
Pain and fear overwhelmed Kate’s senses. She saw only shadow and light. Her ears thundered painfully from the heavy concussive vibrations of the gunshots. Her heart thundered in her chest. Frantically, she searched blindly for the Colt. Her hands found only sand and rock. Her eyes regained focus frustratingly slowly and after what felt like minutes Kate saw the butt of her Colt a few feet away. She reached for the gun, but as her fingers touched its cool grip a rush of pain flashed as the heel of a worn boot dug into her wrist and hand.
