Arlo and Dallas had no trouble finding the rockslide that hid the passage to the underground river.
“I see only one thing wrong with this,” said Kelly, viewing the narrow aperture that they would have to enter. “There’s no way Uncle Henry could have gotten his mule in here, so he’d have been limited as to how much gold he could carry to the outside. We’ll have the same problem.”
“Well, hell’s bells,” Dallas said, “that still beats haulin’ it up that god-awful bluff with ropes. Besides, we ain’t found any gold yet.”
“If the ore’s as rich as what I’ve seen,” said Arlo, “even a man on foot could carry out a fortune in just a little while.”
Dallas lit one lantern and Arlo the other, and the four of them stepped into the intense darkness beneath the mountain. In the distance, like a mighty wind, they could hear the roar of the river.
“The river doesn’t seem as frightening now that we’re down here close to it,” said Kelsey. “When we were crossing that hole in the passage floor, it was like if we lost our footing, we might just … fall forever.”
“That’s close to how I felt when that ledge broke under my feet,” said Dallas. “Those rocks, like big fingers, are pokin’ up out of that river, and my God, what a mess they’d make of a man who fell three or four hundred feet onto them.”
“Hush,” Kelly said. “It makes me sick, just thinking of it.”
“You may get sicker yet,” said Arlo. “When Dallas and me was climbin’ down that drop-off, there was an awful stink somewhere below us. We figure those two gents that disappeared in the mountain actually fell through that hole in the passage floor. So it wasn’t the Thunder God that claimed them. They took a nasty fall and died on those rocks in the river below.”
“That’s why I’m callin’ this river the Death’s Head,” Dallas said. “I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if it’s full of bones.”
“That’s a terrible name for it,” shivered Kelsey, “but it fits.”
At the waterfall, they found it hard going, for they were climbing slippery, moss-covered rocks. Arlo and Dallas kept their bodies between the lanterns and the river, lest the turbulent spray crack the glass globes. The water was surprisingly cold, and the mist that swept over them numbed their faces, ears, and hands.
“Oh, I’m freezing,” Kelly cried.
“You’ll be all right,” said Arlo, “once we’re past this waterfall. The drop-off is just a little ways ahead, on our right. I reckon we forgot to tell you that we had to use the ropes maybe a third of the way down. We found a narrow cut in the wall that took us the rest of the way, and right at the mouth of the split Dallas found the sign Hoss left for us.”
“I’m glad for your sakes,” Kelsey said, “but can’t those other men come down here the same way?”
“Not unless they come a third of the way down on ropes,” said Dallas, “and it was damn near the death of us. Even then, they’ll have to find that split in the wall, without havin’ any idea where it leads.”
Soon they became aware of the stench Arlo and Dallas had noticed the day before, and as they progressed, it became worse and worse.
“Look,” Kelly said. “A hat!”
Trapped in an eddy, the hat bobbed in a shallow pool of backwater. It removed any doubt as to the origin of the putrid smell that assaulted them. Arlo set the lantern down and tied his bandanna over his nose and mouth.
“Use your bandannas,” Arlo said. “They’re down here, and we can’t avoid the odor, but we can stand it.”
“Dear God,” said Kelsey, “I hope we don’t find the gold anywhere close to that smell. I’d be tempted to give up the mine just to escape that awful odor. I realize death claims us all, but don’t we deserve a decent burial, a chance to be returned to the earth from which we came?”
“It’s pretty gruesome,” Dallas said, “knowin’ they’re rotting here in this hole, and not a thing we can do about it. But I agree with you. If we found the mine right now, amid all this stink, I’d not be in any hurry to claim it.”
They followed the underground river a few hundred yards, eventually reaching a point where it was impossible for them to go farther. The water rushed out from beneath a great cleft of rock, and the cavern ended against a stone wall.
“Well,” Kelly said with a sigh, “I really don’t know what I expected, but certainly not this. Now what do we do?”
“I think we’ll take a closer look at the walls along this side of the river,” said Arlo. “If we don’t come up with anything here, then we’ll try the other side. We need a hole, a crevice, something we can get into. Wherever this gold is, it won’t be easy to find, and for certain, it won’t be in plain sight.”
“We’re lookin’ at it like this mine has to be somewhere beneath this particular mountain,” Dallas said, “but that may not be the case. Remember, when we discovered a way to the outside, we could still have followed the river a ways? Instead, we went on out. The mine could be somewhere beyond where we left the river, but before it reaches the Salt.”
“Maybe,” Arlo said, “but somehow I doubt it. I think when we finally find the mine, it’ll be right here under the Superstitions. We’re going to take a closer look at the upper reaches of this river first. After that, if we come up empty-handed, we’ll be forced to get into that stretch you’re thinking about. But I’m hoping it don’t come to that, because at the lower end it all narrows down to the extent that if there’s any gold, it’ll almost have to be in the riverbed itself.”
“It won’t be in the riverbed,” said Dallas. “That ore sample Hoss sent us had been dug out of a lode. Riverbed gold is nearly always dust or nuggets, washed down from some higher elevation. It’s got to be somewhere under this mountain.”
Cass Bowdre now cursed the very rain he had blessed the night before. While it had wiped out the tracks of the stampeded mules, the soft earth now made it virtually impossible for Bowdre to hide his trail back to the Superstitions. In a vain attempt to confuse pursuers, he rode out of his way and, when he reached the mountains, avoided the most direct way to the camp beneath the west rim. Instead, he rode up the canyon where they had first been attacked by Apaches and followed the tortuous trail up the eastern flank of the mountain. From there he crossed to the west side and led his mules through the break in the rim.
“Well, by God,” Zondo Carp growled, when Bowdre entered the cavern, “it sure took you long enough. It ain’t more’n spittin’ distance from here to Tortilla Flat. I could of walked there and back in less time than it took you.”
“You may damn well wish you had,” said Bowdre angrily. “Some hombre recognized the mules and braced me. I had to kill him, and then I rode halfway to Mexico tryin’ to hide my trail. I’d like to see you do any better.”
“So now the rest of them mule drovers will come after us with a pistol in one hand and a noose in the other,” Sandoval said.
“That’s about the straight of it,” said Bowdre. “Or if the law gets into it, a posse from town. This is Gila County, and old Wheaton might be forced to make a show of doin’ his job.”
“Ever since we got into this search for gold,” Os Ellerton complained, “there ain’t nothin’ went right. Why’n hell don’t we just fold and git out of this game? We could ride to Santa Fe, work up a deal there. Anything would be better than this.”
“Damn smart,” mocked Bowdre. “I hear there’s all manner of honest work there, such as milkin’ cows and tendin’ sheep.”
“If I got me a choice,” Ellerton said, “I’d ruther be a live sheepman than a dead prospector. I ain’t about to git my neck stretched for stealin’ no damn mule.”
“Me neither,” said Three-Fingered Joe.
“This ain’t the time to cut and run,” Bowdre said in a soothing voice. “If they’re already after us, we got to stay put. Otherwise, they’ll dog us until we have to fight, likely out in the open. We got us a pretty good hideout here, and we already know enough about these passages to lose ourselves if we hav
e to. These mule drovers lost a man, but they can’t afford to hunker here forever, tryin’ to even the score. I’d say we hang on here and ride this out, even if we don’t find any gold. Hell’s fire, let’s don’t tuck our tails and run like a bunch of yellow coyotes.”
“I reckon I’ll buy that,” said Sandoval. “If we got to face a damn bunch of vigilantes with hangin’ on their minds, then let’s do it on our terms, not theirs. If we got to fort up and fight, I favor doin’ it here.”
“Damn right,” Bowdre said, pressing his small advantage. “While three of us search for the mine, two will always be on watch. One of us will watch from the east rim, while the other watches from the west. We can see for miles, and at first sight of any riders, one of the hombres on watch can light a shuck down the passage and warn the rest of us. We got control of the high ground, and with time to lay an ambush, we can gun the varmints down before they can get at us.”
It was a logical assessment, one that satisfied them for the time being, and Bowdre sighed in relief. He had little doubt that the family or friends of the man he had killed would be coming, and he knew that his own men would not fight to the death over half a dozen mules. If and when the riders came, Bowdre would have to make the first move.
“Now,” he said when they had settled into their camp, “I’m goin’ down to that passage that opens out below the rim. It’s a damn good lookout position.”
“Yeah,” Zondo said, “but only toward Phoenix. You come in from Tortilla Flat, which is the other direction.”
“Damn it,” spat Bowdre, “I told you I circled thirty miles out of my way just to come in from the west. Don’t you reckon if anybody’s trailin’ me, they’ll ride in from the same direction?”
The others laughed and Carp said nothing. When Bowdre entered the passage, Sandoval went with him to the shelf where they could see far to the west. They stood there for a while, allowing their eyes to become accustomed to the light and to the heat waves that shimmered across the plain. The tiny horsemen were moving dots, appearing, disappearing, then appearing again.
“Seven of ’em,” Sandoval said. “Wasn’t but six of them mule drovers, and you cashed one. Who are the others?”
“One of the extra men could be the sheriff,” said Bowdre. “I reckon one of us ought to keep watch until they’re close enough for us to identify ’em. I need to know if Sheriff Wheaton is or ain’t in the bunch. Since it’s me they’re likely lookin’ for, I reckon I’ll stay out here until I know who they are.”
“I ain’t sure about the others,” Ellerton said peering into the distance, “but by God, two of ’em is that pair of Mejicano coyotes, Yavapai and Sanchez.”
“You’re right,” said Bowdre, “and that tells us this bunch ain’t got the backin’ of the law. Not with them thievin’ Mexes along.”
“Wisht I had me a Sharps buffalo gun,” Ellerton said. “I’d cut ’em right down. But we’ll lose them in the brush before they’re in range.”
“Let ’em go for now,” said Bowdre. “They’ve been to Mex town and rounded up some coyotes to throw in with ’em. Now they’re after the gold, and even if we don’t find the mine, I’ll get my enjoys out of gut-shootin’ that pair.”
“They’re headed right at us,” Ellerton said. “You reckon they know of that trail up to the rim and the cavern where we’re holed up?”
“We won’t know that,” Bowdre said, “unless they show on that plateau just before they begin the last climb. One of us will have to stay out here and maybe get some idea as to what that bunch has in mind.”
“Can’t even see ’em now,” said Ellerton. “They can’t ride through them chaparral and greasewood thickets at the foot of the mountain, so that means they’ll have to dismount. We oughta sneak down there, grab them horses, and leave the mules.”
“Kind of what I got in mind,” Bowdre grinned. “What hombre wouldn’t jump at the chance to swap his hoss for a big Missouri jack?”
Chapter 17
Long before Yavapai, Sanchez, and their companions reached the foot of the mountains, other eyes had seen them as well. He wore a used-up old black hat with a hole in the dented crown, moccasins, and buckskins. Swiftly he moved through the chaparral to the horses and mules Arlo and Dallas had picketed. Riding one mule, leading the second and two horses, he was soon lost in the thickets to the north.
Cass Bowdre gave the seven riders almost an hour before he crept along the steep, precarious trail that led down from the west rim. Reaching the brush-shrouded foothills, he paused, listening. He pushed on toward the place where they had last seen the seven riders, pausing at intervals to listen. Suddenly a horse snorted, and Bowdre knew where the animals were. He found a clearing where he could see the west rim and be seen by his men. He waved his hat toward the rim, stepped back into the brush, and waited. Finally his four companions emerged from the brush. Each man led a mule, except Sandoval, who led two.
“You should have rousted Davis out,” said Bowdre. “He could have led one of the mules.”
“Hell,” Carp said, “he ain’t got enough savvy to lead a mule. You want that varmint, trot up there and lead him down.”
The others laughed and Bowdre choked back an angry response. Sandoval cut in with a question.
“You aim to take these horses up the same trail them mules come down and then brush out the tracks?”
“No,” Bowdre said, forcing himself to speak calmly, “you and Ellerton brush out the tracks back to the foot of the mountain. I aim to leave a trail plain enough for that bunch to foller in the dark. It’s got to be a trail so plain they won’t bother lookin’ back any farther.”
Sandoval and Ellerton went to the foot of the mountain trail, and with brushy tops cut from young cedars, they wiped out all mule and boot tracks back to the place where the horses and mules were.
“Now,” Bowdre said, “we’re goin’ to take all these hosses and, leadin’ the mules, head for Phoenix. I want mule tracks plain as day. Once we hit the creek this side of town, we’ll swat them mules and two extra hosses, runnin’ ’em on across. Then we light out up the creek and don’t leave it until we’re all the way past the eastern flank of the mountains.”
“Then we circle back and climb up that trail to the east rim,” finished Three-Fingered Joe.
“Exactly,” Bowdre laughed. “And when we’ve done that, we’ll cover our back trail. When them mule drovers come lookin’ for tracks, they’ll sure find ’em. Now if the rest of that Mejicano bunch just happens to catch up with them mules, you reckon they ain’t gonna round up them jacks, take a load off their feet and ride?”
Sandoval laughed. “I reckon they will, and it’ll likely be their last ride. Like you said, them five hombres will be lookin’ for mule tracks, and when they catch up, I wouldn’t be settin’ a-straddle of one of them jacks for all the gold in these danged mountains.”
Juarez had no trouble following the tracks from Hoss Logan’s cabin to where Arlo and Dallas had picketed the horses and mules, but beyond that he found no trail. Angrily, he turned on Yavapai and Sanchez.
“Where they go?” he demanded.
Sanchez shrugged, pointing to the western flank of the Superstitions. Yavapai looked at Sanchez, and the two suppressed grins. Domingo Vasquez had appointed this bastardo Juarez the comandante, so let Juarez decide what had become of their quarry and what he should do next.
“We look,” said Juarez, dismounting.
The rest of them dismounted, left their horses, and followed Juarez as he approached the foot of the mountain. They fought their way through catclaw, chaparral, and greasewood, only to find the mountain devoid of any crevice. They stumbled through one thorny thicket after another, carefully avoiding the jumping cactus that seemed eager to snag them. Juarez led them south along the foot of the mountain all the way to the Gila River, yet they found nothing. While Yavapai and Sanchez were amused, their grim-faced companions were not. They were openly hostile, and big Garcia Ruiz turned angrily on Juarez.
“We follow you for hours,” said Ruiz. “Where in hell you be going?”
“He look for stair steps up the mountain,” Pepino Frio said with a giggle.
Pepino had a nauseating high-pitched voice. Juan and Juno Ortega laughed, and Juarez thought better of the nasty response that was on the tip of his tongue. Finally he spoke, and his voice was deceptively mild.
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