Before anybody could respond to his outburst, there was yet another noise in the passage, almost exactly like the first. Carp reached for the other lantern.
“Carp,” said Bowdre, “leave that lantern be, and stay the hell out of that passage.”
“I reckon you aim to set here all night,” said Ellerton. “not knowin’ who or what’s out there.”
“Hell, yes,” Bowdre replied, “if it means gettin’ a lantern globe busted ever’ time Carp goes out there to nose around. Any of you that’s wantin’ to prowl around back yonder, light yourself a pine knot. We need them lanterns to search that underground river.”
Gary Davis snored noisily, but try as they might, the rest of them were unable to sleep. Just when it seemed the troublesome noise in the tunnel had ceased, there would come again the sound of a solitary stone striking the passage wall and then clattering to the floor. Far into the night it continued, abating just long enough for them to drowse, then jerking them all awake. As they hunched there in silence, anticipating the sound, it became a kind of torture. The aggravation continued, and it was Carp who finally snapped under the strain. Angrily he got to his feet.
“By God,” he said, “I’m takin’ a light and goin’ back there!”
He lit a long strip of pine, drew and cocked his Colt, and stepped into the dark passage behind the cascading water. Time dragged on—ten minutes, twenty minutes—and Carp failed to return.
“Somethin’ must of happened to him,” Bowdre worried.
Then, lending ominous credibility to Bowdre’s words, there came that devilish sound of a stone striking the passage wall and then clattering away to silence.
“I’m goin’ to have a look,” said Sandoval. “Anybody got the guts to go with me?”
“I have,” Ellerton said. “I’ve had about enough of this.”
Sandoval and Ellerton stepped into the passage, each with his Colt cocked and ready, each with a lighted pine torch. They had gone only a few yards when they found Carp. He lay on his back, still clutching his unfired weapon. Sandoval holstered his pistol, then knelt down and felt for a pulse.
“He’s alive,” Sandoval said, “but out colder than a dead trout.”
“Hell, there’s a lump over his right eye big as a horse apple,” said Ellerton. “I reckon somethin’ or somebody walloped him good.”
“You carry the lights,” Sandoval said, “and I’ll get him back to camp.”
When they’d got Carp back, Sandoval stretched him out before the fire, while Bowdre and Three-Fingered Joe watched in silence.
“Maybe he fell and hit his head,” said Three-Fingered Joe.
“How the hell you figure that?” Sandoval demanded. “We found him flat on his back, holdin’ his pistol. He’d have had to fall face-down and roll over on his back after he was out cold.”
“Somethin’ or somebody slugged him,” said Bowdre, “and they done it facin’ him. But how, without Carp makin’ some move to defend himself?”
His question was mocked by yet another stone striking the passage wall, then falling away to silence.
“Maybe movin’ into this damn camp wasn’t such a good idea,” Three-Fingered Joe said. “I’ve about had my fill of these spooky mountains, gold or no gold.”
“I’ve already said that,” said Ellerton, “and I’m sayin’ it again. I’m givin’ it two more days. We get into the river cavern and find the gold, or we give it up and ride out.”
“You gents have had your say,” Bowdre snarled, “and now I’ll have mine. I’m fed up with all your whining and bellyaching. Come first light, anybody that’s of a mind to leave, just mount up and ride. Or for that matter, by God, you can leave right now.”
“I’ll stay,” said Sandoval, “but when Carp comes to, let’s take a vote. He might ride out too, and I like the idea of a two-way split of the gold.”
Three-Fingered Joe and Os Ellerton cast black looks at Sandoval, as Bowdre laughed. At that point Carp sat up and looked groggily about.
“What’n hell happened to you?” Ellerton demanded.
“Somebody nearly bashed my brains out,” Carp snarled. “You reckon I just growed this lump on my head to keep my hat from slippin’ down over my eyes?”
“You was hit hard,” said Bowdre, “but by what, and who done it?”
“I didn’t see nothin’ or nobody,” Carp said. “Some-thin’ hit me, and I don’t remember nothin’ else.”
“Os and Joe ain’t satisfied,” said Bowdre, “and they’re threatenin’ to ride out. What about you? Do you aim to saddle up and ride?”
“Hell, no,” Carp said. “Not without a chance at the gold, and a shot at the sneakin’, skunk-striped son of a bitch that near busted my skull.”
Carp’s bravado—especially after his recent experience—made his companions look small, and Bowdre glared triumphantly at Ellerton and Three-Fingered Joe.
“All right,” Ellerton said, with poor grace, “I’ll stay till the finish.”
“Count me in, I reckon,” said Three-Fingered Joe.
“Praise be,” Bowdre said sarcastically. “We’re one big happy family again. Tomorrow we’ll search every crack and crevice along that river.”
Chapter 21
The day following Kelly’s fall, time hung heavy on everybody’s hands. Kelly slept most of the day, and Dallas sat with her. Arlo and Kelsey spent most of their time outside, occasionally walking to Saguaro Lake.
“Kelly’s my sister, and I shouldn’t complain,” Kelsey said, “but my God, this constant waiting, just doing nothing, is getting to me. I hope by tomorrow she’ll be able to get up, so we can go look for the mine.”
“Don’t count on it,” said Arlo. “In a way, I reckon she’s worse off than you were when you were shot. You only hurt in one place, and she’s likely hurtin’ all over. She’ll need about three days’ rest before we continue our search.”
“Two more days of waiting? Lord, what are we going to do with ourselves?”
Arlo laughed. “I had a suggestion, but that didn’t appeal to you.”
“I’m bored enough to reconsider,” she said. “Let’s walk back to the lake.”
To Kelsey’s and Arlo’s immense relief, Kelly was awake by suppertime and insisting on getting up.
“This rawhide-strung bunk is doing more damage to my back than the fall,” she said. “I have to get up.”
She sat up groggily, and when impatience got the best of her, Dallas helped her to walk. With Arlo and Kelsey encouraging her, it looked like she was going to beat Arlo’s prediction of three days.
* * *
The morning after the storm Bowdre and his companions filled both their lanterns with oil and returned to the underground river. Gary Davis, left in camp, showed no emotion when they departed.
“We should be able to search this whole damn river today and tonight,” said Carp. “If we come up dry, you aim to bring Davis in tomorrow?”
“That’s what I’m considerin’,” Bowdre replied. “I’ll bend a pistol barrel over his head and we’ll tote him in feetfirst, if we have to.”
“Then you’d better keep your pistol handy,” said Carp, “because he’ll go crazy when he wakes up and sees where he’s at. I’m figurin’ whatever happened to him must have took place somewhere along that river. That’s why he goes wild just at the mention of it.”
“We’ll get out of his way and let him go as crazy as he likes,” Bowdre said. “If he’s seen the mine, and it’s anywhere along this river, then I’m countin’ on his recollection takin’ over and sendin’ him hell-bent-for-leather, right to the gold. All we got to do is foller him.”
“Once he’s led us to the gold,” said Carp, “is they any reason why I can’t just shoot the loco coyote?”
“Not far as I’m concerned,” Bowdre replied.
Paiute waited on the ledge that dipped into the wall of the drop-off, and when he saw the distant bobbing lights of the lanterns, he made his way carefully along the narrow ledge from which Kelly
had fallen. This day he would not hinder their search, and they would trudge the river from one end to the other, finding nothing. Only then, Paiute believed, would they bring the hated Gary Davis into the search. Tomorrow, then, Hoss Logan’s revenge might be complete.
Bowdre and his crew followed the river to the end, where it sprang from a great gash in the rock.
“That’s one side of it,” Sandoval said, “and we ain’t seen a thing that looked close to a passage to a mine. We ain’t even seen a hole that a prairie dog could squeeze into, without suckin’ in his gut.”
“There’s the other side,” said Bowdre. “We might as well cross the river and see what’s over there.”
“I got me a hunch,” Carp said. “I’m bettin’ the other side of this damn river’s just as bare as this side was.”
“Well, just keep that hunch where it is,” said Bowdre irritably. “Maybe we won’t find nothin’, but by God, we’re gonna at least have a look.”
And they did look, cursing as they slipped and stumbled over the slick, mossy rock.
“Careful,” Bowdre cautioned. “The first clumsy son of a coyote that busts a lantern globe hoofs it back to camp for a replacement.”
Slowly, they worked their way past the upthrusts of rock that began in the river and crowded outward against the very walls of the cavern. Once they were past the falls, the going became easier, but the chances of their discovering any crack or crevice diminished markedly.
“We ain’t found a damn thing hikin’ up and down this blasted river,” said Carp, “and we ain’t goin’ to.”
“Maybe not,” Bowdre replied, “but we’ll stay with it as long as we can. At least until we reach that old riverbed that leads us out of here.”
“We still got time to go over it all a second time,” said Sandoval. “Could be we overlooked somethin’.”
“Go over it as many times as you want,” Ellerton said. “I’ll come in here one more time, and that’s when we turn Davis loose.”
“I reckon I’ll have to agree with you,” said Bowdre. “Davis has been there once. Maybe we can shock him into goin’ there again.”
“You aimin’ to bring him in here today?” Three-Fingered Joe asked.
“No,” said Bowdre. “We’ve been in here most of the day. I think we’ll get a fresh start in the morning. I look to have a problem with Davis. After the day we just had, does anybody feel up to that?”
“Not me,” Sandoval said, and for a change, nobody disagreed.
“Let’s get out of here and back to camp, then,” said Bowdre. “I’m ready for some grub and hot coffee.”
It was considerably later than they thought, for the sun had already set. By the time they reached the treacherous trail up the mountain, the first stars had taken their places in a purpling sky. Entering their hidden camp, Sandoval lit one of the lanterns. But something was wrong.
“Davis,” Bowdre shouted, “where are you?”
The only answer was an echo and then silence. Gary Davis was gone, and the contents of their packs lay scattered about.
Left alone, Gary Davis had lapsed into a kind of stupor for most of the day. When he awoke, it was as though from a nightmare. He screeched wildly, causing the horses to rear and nicker in terror.
“Logan,” Davis shouted. “Jed Logan! Damn you, Jed Logan, I killed you once. Why won’t you stay dead?”
Davis eyed the saddlebags belonging to Cass Bowdre and his men. Seizing one and ripping it open, he dumped its contents. In a fury, he emptied the rest of them in like fashion. The last one belonged to Bowdre, and its contents immediately interested Davis, for they included two gun rigs—belts, holsters, and Colts. One had belonged to Mose Fowler, the other to Pod Osteen. Davis checked each of the weapons, found them fully loaded, and shoved them under his belt. He removed all the cartridges from both belts and stuffed the shells into his pockets. He then left the cavern, making his way up the split to the top of the mountain. From there, he crossed to the east rim, fighting his way down the precipitous trail to the canyon where he had spent his first terrible night in the Superstitions. He waded the stream and entered the forbidding cavern where the woman he had taken from Jed Logan had died. He had taken her not because he wanted her, but solely because of his hatred for Logan. Now the woman was dead and Jed Logan was somehow still alive. But he would kill Logan again. And again, and again, and again, by God, until he stayed dead. But now he must rest. His head hurt and his vision dimmed, and he sank down against a stone wall and blacked out. Once more, the hated Jed Logan stalked through the shadows of his tortured mind.
“Wherever he is,” said Bowdre, “he’s well armed. He’s got the pistols that belonged to Pod and Mose, and all the extra ammunition.”
“I ain’t sleepin’ in here,” Ellerton said. “That damn fool’s likely to sneak in here and shoot us all.”
“We’ll have to keep watch,” said Bowdre, “and come first light, we’ll have to find him if we can. I still think he can lead us to the gold.”
“I don’t,” Carp disagreed. “He took them guns and shells for a reason. When we find him, we’ll have to kill him, or he’ll kill us.”
“When we find him,” said Bowdre, “don’t do nothin’ foolish. Just hold your fire while I try to talk some sense into him.”
“I reckon you’re forgettin’ somethin’,” Sandoval said. “Wells and Holt will be comin’ back. If Davis cuts down on them, they’ll blow him to hell and gone. They don’t need him.”
“Then we’ll have to find him first,” replied Bowdre. “After we’ve had our grub, I’ll take the first watch.”
Although Kelly Logan had awakened at sundown the day after her fall and had insisted on getting up, her three companions didn’t share her optimism.
“Kelly,” Arlo said, “I think you’re gettin’ up a little too soon. You need at least one more day of rest.”
“Maybe,” said Kelly, “but I can’t stand another day of just lying here doing nothing, while the rest of you are as restless as penned-up coyotes. Tomorrow we’re going back along that ledge and find the gold. Once this is finished, there’ll be plenty of time for all of us to rest.”
Kelly was in some pain, but she refused to yield to it. She forced herself to get up and walk, to move about, to work the soreness out of her body. It was well past midnight before she again lay down to sleep.
Bowdre was making plans to search for Gary Davis, but he also needed to know if Arlo Wells and Dallas Holt would return. Soon as it was light enough to see, he sent Sandoval to the west rim. Growing weary of staring at the same greasewood and chaparral thickets, Sandoval climbed to the top of the mountain and crossed over to the east rim. He arrived just in time to see Gary Davis emerge from the cavern where he had spent the night. There would be no time for Sandoval to report this turn of events to Bowdre, for if he did so, he would risk losing Davis. He would just have to follow Davis and take his chances with Bowdre’s wrath. As Davis followed the canyon where six men had died in the fight with Apaches, Sandoval skidded and slid down the hazardous trail in pursuit. Davis left the canyon, turning north along the foot of the mountain. Lest he be discovered, Sandoval kept his distance, but his quarry was oblivious to everything except whatever was foremost in his confused mind. Sandoval had trouble keeping up and eventually lost Davis in the thickets that cloaked the foot of the Superstitions. Fighting his way through the brush, Sandoval searched in vain. Where had the damn fool gone? Luckily, the ground was muddy from last night’s rain, and Davis was making no effort to conceal his tracks.
“Well, by God,” said Sandoval, under his breath, “he’s gone into that passage where the river is.”
Sandoval had seen enough. He hurried back to camp.
“Right where we want him!” Bowdre shouted exultantly when Sandoval broke the news. “This is workin’ out perfect. Let’s go! He’s got somethin’ on that crazy mind of his. What could it be, if not the gold?”
But the last thing Gary Davis had on his mind was g
old. He stumbled on through the darkness where he had spent three terrifying days and nights with a ghostly presence that had robbed him of his sanity.
“Where are you, Jed Logan?” he bawled. “Damn you, I killed you once, and I’ll kill you again!”
For Kelly’s sake, Dallas and Arlo didn’t arise as early as was their custom. While the girl was irked at them for making allowances for her, their concern was well founded. For all her grit and determination, Kelly still had trouble getting to her feet, and once there, she had trouble staying on them.
“Kelly,” said Dallas, “you ain’t ready for this, and you know it. Why don’t you wait one more day?”
“Because I can’t stand being laid up another day,” Kelly replied. “Once I’ve been on my feet for a while, I’ll do better.”
Skeleton Lode Page 32
