by Regina Scott
Dot, who was riding in the lead, skirts hiked up to accommodate the lack of a sidesaddle, urged her mule forward, and Hank let out a cry. Ben started running, and Meg joined him.
Dot struggled to get off her mule, then ran to meet them and hugged Meg close.
“Oh, I thought we’d lost you,” she said, rocking back and forth.
Hank clapped Ben on the back even as Adams and Larson saluted.
“Sight for sore eyes, Captain,” the cartographer said.
“You too,” Ben assured him, hand on his shoulder.
Meg pulled back. “Where’s Private Meadows?”
“Here, ma’am.” The private moved out from among his charges. One side of his face was an angry red, blisters showing white, and one hand was wrapped in cloth. Ben stiffened.
Meg reacted more strongly. “What happened?” she cried.
Adams raised his head. “Private Meadows ran into the flames to cut the horses free.”
Meg’s face crumbled. “Oh, poor Stripe! She won’t know what to do.”
Meadows hung his head. “Sorry.”
“No apology necessary, Private,” Ben said. “You did what you had to do to save their lives. If they don’t find their way back to the fort, natives may come across them and take them in or a trader might capture them.”
“I’d like to request an official commendation for bravery, Captain,” Adams put in.
“Wasn’t bravery,” Meadows muttered, averting his gaze. “Just couldn’t see a critter burned.”
Meg shifted on her feet, as if she wanted to rush up to the fellow and wrap her arms around him. Ben was glad she didn’t. The youth was embarrassed enough as it was.
“That is bravery, Private,” she told him. “You faced something that had robbed you before, and you refused to give it another opportunity.”
“Corporal Adams is a hero too,” Larson put in as if hoping to draw attention away from his friend. “He spotted the fire coming and warned us all in time.”
“He took charge and kept us together,” Hank confirmed, though the tone in his voice said he was still surprised by the turn of events.
Adams’s chin inched up. “I was simply doing my job to the best of my abilities.” He glanced at Meg for some reason, then started as his gaze dropped to her breeches. Pink gathered in his cheeks.
Time to turn attentions back where they belonged. “Well done, both of you,” Ben said. “I’ll speak to Colonel Yearling at the fort about your efforts.”
Meadows ducked his head. Adams nodded with evident satisfaction.
Ben couldn’t help looking over the team again. Each bore some testament to their harrowing escape. Dot’s skirts had blackened circles, like polka dots on the blue denim, where embers must have landed and been beaten out. Hank had lost part of a sleeve, his arm showing scarlet through the tattered remains of his flannel undershirt. Adams’s eyes were red-rimmed, as if he had looked too long into the flames as he helped the others out. Larson moved with a limp. And Pike . . .
Meg must have noticed the missing member of the expedition, for she spoke even as Ben was opening his mouth to ask the question. “Where’s Mr. Pike?”
Dot’s face fell.
“Lost,” Hank spit out. “And that’s all I’ll say on the matter in present company.”
26
Meg had never been so happy to see anyone in her life. She wanted to hug them all close, tend all their wounds. And the thought of Mr. Pike’s loss was heartrending. She’d never liked the taciturn guide, but she wouldn’t have wished this fate on him.
She’d seen the same dismay cross Ben’s face, but he straightened, and the air of command slipped over him like a well-worn cloak. “The sun will be going down soon. I need a situation report. Anyone else injured?”
The others rallied as well, the cavalrymen straightening until they stood at attention, Dot raising her chin, and Hank meeting Ben’s gaze.
“Not seriously,” the cartographer said. “Private Larson was hit by a falling limb.”
The private kept his gaze straight ahead. “Nothing that will prevent me from doing my duty, sir.”
“The good Lord spared us,” Dot agreed.
Thank you, Lord. The prayer speared skyward with Meg’s relief.
Ben remained focused as he glanced over the mules. “How’d we fare as far as supplies and equipment?”
“The tents and most personal gear are gone,” Hank said. “Corporal Adams helped me save the theodolite and one set of the expedition journals.”
The corporal nodded, narrow face redder than usual. “We also managed to load a few saddlebags with gear: a compass, blankets, canteens, and part of the picket line among other minor articles.”
Ben looked to Dot. “What about food and cooking equipment?”
“One pot and the cinnamon,” Dot said. “The fire just swung in so fast!”
“Never saw anything like it,” Hank agreed. “It ran along the bushes, jumped from tree to tree.”
“Like it was alive,” Meadows murmured.
Meg shivered, remembering. “It looked terrifying from the canyon.”
Dot nodded. “Couldn’t tell the sky from the ground with all the smoke. But Hank pointed us north, and we kept going until it petered out.”
“We have our knives, pistols, and a rifle,” Hank added, “but only the ammunition that was in them or on our ammunition belts. We hunted and gathered what plants we could the last two nights.”
“There’s a stream down there,” Dot said, pointing back the way she and the others had come. “We’ve been following the rim, figuring you’d come up somewhere along here, if you could.” She gave Meg another squeeze. “Don’t you go running off on me again!”
“I won’t,” Meg promised, hugging her back.
“We’ll camp at your stream tonight,” Ben said. “It’s clear with this setback we can’t continue the survey. The only way forward I can see is to return to the fort.”
Adams and Meadows brightened, but Larson eyed the golden soil with a sigh. “Might as well admit our defeat.”
Ben’s smile was grim. “We aren’t defeated, Private. We didn’t fail in our duty. When Miss Meg and I were down in what I believe was Bright Angel Canyon, we found the Army a possible wagon road. We just need to live long enough to tell them.”
Hank clapped him on the back again, and his men offered their congratulations.
Dot was watching Meg. “You don’t seem so happy about this,” she murmured.
Meg made herself smile. “I’m glad Ben found a promising route, but I’ll be sorry to see the survey end. I had higher hopes for what we might accomplish.”
Dot started. “Your cameras! Of course. I’m sorry. There just wasn’t time to save them before Hank dragged me off and set me on a mule.”
She would not think of her loss, not when she’d just gained so much back. “The important thing is that most of us survived,” she told Dot, but she couldn’t help glancing at Ben. Weariness must be riding his shoulders, yet he had taken charge of the group, was even now charting a course home.
He had to be hurting. It was one thing to lose their guide, another to have lost all hope of finding his father alive. He hadn’t confided in the others that he had a secondary mission. Would he tell them what else he’d discovered in the canyon?
Ben had never liked riding a mule. The sturdy animals had their own opinions as to pace and direction. But he was grateful for the ride as the mule carried his weary body back toward the spring. Their path to return to the fort wouldn’t be easy, especially with Pike gone, but with what they had, they should be able to reach safety.
He glanced back along the short column. Hank rode at his side, with Dot and Meg right behind. Adams came next, and Larson and Meadows led the rest of the mules, stretching out behind like the tail of a kite. They were all blessed to have survived.
He caught Meg’s eye, and she smiled. He felt lighter. Her knowledge of plants and quick thinking about her skirt had quite probably
saved his life. She had never complained, always contributed to decisions. He could not imagine a better person to have at his side, in that canyon, or through life.
Thank you, Lord.
As if he knew the direction of Ben’s thoughts, Hank spoke up. “Miss Meg asked about Pike.”
Ben faced front to give the cartographer his attention. “What happened?”
Hank’s gaze went into the distance as if seeing something other than the tall pines. “I’m not sure. He left camp before the fire started. You saw how mad he was we didn’t take his advice.”
Ben remembered. “I should never have gone down along the creek.”
Hank shrugged. “You couldn’t know a fire was coming.”
“You navigated in the smoke by the sound of it,” Ben said.
“I figured if we could head north, we might outrun the fire. Thanks to the right wind, we did. It burned itself out when it hit the canyon on the other side of that dried-up pond Pike had been hoping we could camp at. Saw it on our way back south.”
Once again, all Ben could feel was thanksgiving. If the wind had turned, if the mules had balked, someone might have died. Then again, it seemed someone had.
“How do you know Pike didn’t make it?” Ben asked.
Hank’s face lengthened. “The next morning, we went back over the burnt area, hoping to find you all alive. We knew you and Meg had gone down that side canyon, so we stood at the top and hollered.”
“The creek must have drowned the noise,” Ben said. “We didn’t hear you. Either that, or we were too far down the canyon by then. Too many fallen trees to climb back the way we’d come.”
“We thought the way looked blocked. I figured you’d search for another way up.”
“Which is exactly what I did,” Ben told him. “But it took a while. Sometimes it seemed every direction was blocked there as well. I don’t like thinking about what would have happened if you hadn’t found us.”
“Glad to help,” Hank said with a nod. “I only wish we’d been able to save Pike. We found a body yesterday, right about where the fire started, from the look of the scorched dirt. It was burned beyond recognition, but about the right size. Adams, Meadows, and Larson helped me use sticks to carve out a shallow grave.”
Ben glanced at him. “You’re sure it was Pike?”
Hank shared his frown. “It had to be. Who else would be out here?”
Their nocturnal visitor, perhaps? But if so, then where was Pike?
“You forget,” Ben said. “More than one person disappeared out this way recently.”
“That guide McCoy and the Colonel,” Hank agreed. “But what would either be doing here alone, and where was the other?”
His throat felt tight as the memory washed over him. “Meg and I found the other body down in the canyon. It was my father.”
Hank’s face tightened. “I’m sorry to hear that. The Colonel was a good man.”
Ben turned his face forward. “He was. I didn’t always appreciate that. I would have brought his body back if I could. We buried him in rocks.”
“But how’d he get down in the canyon?” Hank asked. “Did he and the guide go exploring and get trapped on the way out by a storm or rockslide? Did you find the guide too?”
“No,” Ben said darkly. “That’s why I questioned you about the body you found.”
Hank eyed him. “You think it was McCoy? Why?”
“Because the Colonel had one more story to tell.”
Hank frowned. “What?”
In his mind’s eye, Ben saw the crooked body, felt the fragile bones under his hands as he’d searched the corpse while Meg was gathering stones. “You and Meg both assume he died trying to escape the canyon. His body was feet away from a pond, lying in a thicket of berries and miner’s lettuce. Lack of food and water didn’t kill him.”
“Then what did?” Hank asked.
The matter left a bitter taste in his mouth. “He had several broken bones and a gunshot to the chest. The Colonel was murdered, his corpse left for nature to destroy. And I think I know why.”
Hank was staring at him so fixedly he didn’t appear to notice his mule was veering for the trees. Ben tipped his head, and the cartographer urged the mule closer again.
“I found indications of gold in Bright Angel Creek,” Ben explained. “Not enough to make a profit from what I can see, but all it takes is a rumor and men will clog its banks. I think the Colonel heard such a rumor. Meg and I found claim markers in the canyon. After what he’d seen in San Francisco, my father wouldn’t have risked taking his men to investigate. He commandeered someone he trusted and went out himself. I don’t know if McCoy turned on him, or someone else caught them both. But he wasn’t supposed to make it back and inform the Army.”
He reached into his pocket and drew out the rowel. The steel winked in his palm as he held it for Hank to see.
“I discovered this on the slope our second day at the canyon, in an area where someone had overturned a number of rocks. It’s my father’s. Maybe he lost it in a fight for his life, and his murderer only went back to look for it when he knew we were in the same area.”
“Our midnight visitor,” Hank guessed. “Makes sense. And he likely had help to move that body to a different location.”
Ben started, and his mule shied. Pocketing the rowel and urging his mount closer to the cartographer again, Ben lowered his voice. “That’s it, Hank. McCoy must have had a partner. They were working together all this time. That’s how he slipped into camp unseen. That’s why he destroyed Meg’s plate, so no one would know she’d caught something that might implicate them—a camp we missed, a second claim?”
“The only person who could have been his partner is Pike,” Hank said, the name a growl.
“You’re right.” In his mind, he saw the symbol carved into the trees again. What they’d seen as two mountains could well have been the letter M, the half moon, part of the letter P.
“Well, he won’t be around to enjoy his gold,” Hank said. “Looks like McCoy double-crossed him too.”
The thought brought no comfort.
Next to him, Hank cocked his head. “You sure there wasn’t enough to pan?”
Ben chuckled. “Don’t you go getting gold fever on me.”
Hank held up his hands, then hastily clutched the mule again. “Not me. Dot would kill me if I ran off. And I don’t like the idea of her living in a mining camp again. But you can be sure that if the Colonel heard the rumor, others will too, and they will come looking.”
“Then we’ll hold them off with the truth,” Ben said, gaze going forward once more. “There’s not enough gold to fund two prospectors, much less hundreds. We can look for samples before we return to the fort and prove it.”
They reached the campsite and settled in around the spring. Meg took a long drink of the cool, crisp water. Someone had shot a rabbit. It was a small meal for seven people, but they augmented it with the berries and greens Dot had gathered along the way.
As night fell, the air chilled, and coyotes howled in the distance. Everyone huddled near the fire, men along one side and Dot and Meg close together. Ben might have been sitting on the ground leaning back on one elbow, but his gaze was sharp.
“We have a long trek ahead of us,” he said. “The mules are hardy, but we can’t push them. We’ll start at dawn, stop midday to rest them, then move on and ride until twilight. We have a compass and the theodolite. Even without Pike, we should be able to retrace our steps.”
Someone sighed with obvious relief.
Ben glanced around, gaze lingering a moment on Meg. “As before, I need each of you to use your skills. We have limited ammunition—every shot must count. Private Meadows.”
The youth perked up. “Sir?”
“You were raised in Tennessee. Did you ever trap?”
He nodded, eyes bright in the firelight. “Some, as a boy.”
“See what you can do to set up traps each night when we camp. Use the remains of dinne
r, your bootlaces, and Dot’s pot if need be. The more animals we catch, the fewer bullets we’ll have to expend.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll set up a snare in a tree tonight.”
“And I’ll trust you and Private Larson to take care of the mules,” Ben continued. “If I overtax them, if they need a longer rest or more time to graze, speak up. They are our ticket home.”
Both Meadows and Larson saluted.
“Corporal Adams, you are our best marksman,” Ben continued. “If you see meat you’re confident you can bring down with one bullet, do it.”
“Yes, sir.” Adams pulled his rifle closer.
“Hank,” Ben said with a look to the cartographer, “man the compass and use the theodolite morning, during afternoon break, and evening to chart our way forward.”
“Yes, sir,” Hank said, with a salute to match that of the cavalrymen.
Ben smiled before turning to Meg. “Miss Pero.”
Meg met his gaze. “Whatever you need.”
Something flashed behind his eyes, as if he intended to take her up on that promise. “You’ve proven wise when it comes to finding food. Point out plants to us. We’ll gather as we go.”
“Count on me,” Meg said.
He turned to the cook. “And Dot?”
She nodded eagerly. “Yes, Captain?”
“You stretch that cinnamon as far as you can.”
Dot snapped a salute too.
Ben nodded as if satisfied. “If everything goes well, we should reach the fort in a week to ten days. Any questions?”
To Meg’s surprise, Meadows spoke up. “Should we mount a guard, sir?”
Ben’s face tightened. “I believe we’ve seen the last of our midnight visitor, but it would be wise to watch for tricks of nature.”
Ben took the first watch, and the others settled themselves to sleep as best they could around the fire. Meadows huddled back to back with one of the mules. Larson bundled himself in a saddle blanket and leaned against a tree. Dot and Hank shared a blanket. Meg draped her skirt about her shoulders and tried to find a comfortable spot on the ground.
Ben moved past on quiet feet.
