“Assuming he knows ’em.”
“Best lead we’ve got.”
A tall man approached from across the street, hand on his sidearm – a Colt 1911 .45-caliber pistol in a worn holster that his expression said he knew how to use. He stopped in front of them and adjusted his ten-gallon Stetson.
“Howdy, boys. Heard you just arrived. Not going to be staying long, are you?”
Cano looked him up and down. “What’s it to you?”
“I’m the sheriff. Don’t want any trouble round here.”
“We causing any?” Cano asked reasonably.
“Heard all about a gunfight out by the lake. Be best if you weren’t here come sundown.”
“Wasn’t planning on staying.”
The man nodded, his eyes hard. “Good.”
They watched the sheriff amble into the trading post, and Cano turned to Luis. “Finish stowing this stuff. I’m going to find the radio.”
“I wish you wouldn’t pull any men from Pecos. We’re thin on the ground there…”
Cano’s voice was hard as iron. “Don’t question me – you’re here to do what I say, and that’s all. Pack up and keep your mouth shut, understand?”
Luis choked back the fury that surged through him and dropped his head so Cano wouldn’t see the murder in his eyes. He nodded once and moved away, fighting the urge to reach for his handgun and put a round through the man’s skull. Luis reminded himself that even if he took Cano down, he’d have to face the pair of Crew gunmen, and the odds of prevailing against all three of them were slim.
Cano strode away, leaving Luis to stew at the insulting treatment, his back a further taunt and confirmation of Luis’s subordination.
Luis counted slowly to ten, willing his heart rate back to normal, and began packing the goods. The long string of curses that ran through his head was as colorful as the flush that had suffused his face. Under normal circumstances, Luis would have already driven his knife into the Crew boss’s heart, but now wasn’t the time.
He would just keep his head down and wait.
Because eventually he’d have his chance, and then Cano would learn that he’d pushed the wrong man.
Chapter 5
Colt’s horse swayed along in front of Lucas, its deliberate gait measured and even, the stride of an animal accustomed to covering long distances in a day with a minimum of undue exertion.
They had hit the trail at dawn, following the remnants of the storm as it moved northeast. The ground was still moist in patches, the earth unable to absorb any more, leaving the rest to the sun’s rays. The heat had risen as the sky transitioned from salmon to purple to blue, and in some stretches they’d been surrounded by steam as the surface moisture evaporated – an eerie spectacle that added to the impression that they were closer to hell than to heaven.
They’d stopped periodically to rest and water the horses, allowing them to graze on what they could forage while Colt took bearings. He’d directed them toward the hills to the west, staying well off the cracked ebony ribbon of highway that stretched through the desert to the horizon. The going had gotten harder as they’d neared the hills, where the terrain grew more rugged and wild as the elevation increased, the route made doubly treacherous by the slick mud on the trail.
Capitan Mountain jutted into the sky to the west as the horses labored up the grade. The rest stops grew more frequent as it became obvious the animals were tiring as they ascended into thinner air. The white sand and occasional scrub gave way to patches of verdant growth, and then the landscape became an explosion of green fed by the storm, the plants thriving, if only for a few rare days.
Colt led them along a dirt road that was barely more than an indentation in the hills and then drew up short as they topped a rise and found themselves staring at a canyon filled with rushing water.
“Damn. No way across that,” he said after a few minutes of staring at the wash. “It was dry when I was here before.”
“Not anymore,” Lucas observed. “Any bridges?”
Colt shook his head. “Just the main overpass at the highway.”
“Then we either wait for the runoff to dry up, or backtrack and use the road.”
Ruby cleared her throat. “We can’t try to cross it? Find a shallow area?”
Colt shook his head. “Flash flooding like this is treacherous. Might just as soon lose you as make it.” His face clouded. “We need to follow the canyon down to the highway and cross there.”
Sierra frowned. “But you said the Apaches–”
“We have no choice. We’re stopped dead until we make it across.”
“He’s right,” Lucas said.
They wheeled their horses around and worked their way along the wash. An occasional hawk or buzzard overhead cast a fleeting shadow in the flattening landscape. An hour and a half later they arrived at the highway, where two overpasses crossed the canyon. They coaxed their horses across the broiling asphalt, weapons in hand, and exhaled a collective sigh of relief when they reached the far side.
Colt led them west again, his pace faster than before, as if trying to make up for the time lost retracing their steps. The dirt road they were following degraded to a trail that ran along the ravine before improving as it jagged north.
Ruby’s horse screamed in alarm as its front legs slipped out from under it and the earth beneath fell away. She wrestled the reins as Sidney reared up on his hind legs, pulling back from the hole that had materialized without warning, her eyes panicked. Colt rode back to Ruby and froze when he saw the depression. He leapt from the saddle and helped Ruby get Sidney under control.
“What the hell was that?” she demanded as she dismounted, panting hard from the sudden exertion.
Lucas dropped from the saddle and cautiously approached the hole. He knelt and used his Bowie knife to probe the edge of the dirt lip. When he looked up at Colt, his expression was dark.
“Trap. Woven reed mat supported from below with branches, over a pit. Can’t tell how deep – there’s a lot of water filling it.”
Colt nodded. “And the way the mat’s covered, you’d never see it. A neat trick – horse falls in, it stays in.” Colt paused. “I’ve never seen one before. I had no idea they used them. I had a guide when I came south – he must have known where the traps were and kept us clear.”
Lucas frowned. “We’re too close to the road. They anticipated that anyone traveling without a guide would stay off the highway, and rigged the secondary routes.” Lucas looked first to Ruby and then to Sidney. “You’re lucky you were able to pull away in time. Although we need to check to see if his ankle’s broken or just twisted.”
Colt looked over the horse’s front leg. “It’s swelling, but not like a break.”
“Walk him around some and see how he does.”
Colt obliged, and within a few minutes it became obvious that Sidney could walk, but there was no way he would be able to support Ruby’s weight.
“Poor Jax. Looks like he’s going to have to do the heavy lifting again,” she said. “We should transfer his cargo so it’s only me.”
They moved the saddlebags from the mule to Sidney, and after a reluctant start by Jax, the party continued toward the hills, the sun now well past the high point in the sky. Sidney limped noticeably as he followed in Jax’s wake, but he soldiered on without complaint, sweat drying on his flanks.
Sierra called out to Lucas after a half hour, and he slowed for her to catch up.
“How much longer are we going to ride today?” she asked.
“Don’t know. Probably until dark. Why?”
“Eve’s tired, and so am I.”
“You can doze in the saddle. But there’s about twenty more miles we need to cover before we stop,” Colt said from ahead.
“You have someplace in mind?” Lucas asked.
“That’s right. There are some abandoned buildings off the highway. An old ranch. We camped there on my trip down.”
“Twenty miles?” Sierra echoed.
“Afraid so. We need to clock fifty miles a day, and we’ve come no more than thirty.”
“It seems like we’ve been riding forever,” Ruby said.
“Get used to it. Three days of this before we hit Albuquerque, and a lot of it uphill, too.”
Sierra groaned. “Why not cover it in four? What’s the difference?”
“One more day for something bad to happen,” Colt said. “And by the fourth day, we’ll be out of water.”
Lucas nodded. “We’re wasting time we don’t have. You want to doze, that’s fine – I can take Eve for a while.”
“No, I can manage. I…never mind.”
Ruby adjusted her hat and gave the younger woman a sympathetic look. “Could be worse. At least you’ve got a horse. I’m stuck with Jax.”
Jax turned his head slightly at his name.
Sierra had to laugh at the mule’s beleaguered expression. “I think he’s handsome.”
“Well, he’s getting the job done, and that’s all that counts,” Ruby agreed.
Colt cut off the banter. “Stay single file behind me, and if I stop, you do so as well. There may be some traps on the road, too, so I need to keep a sharp eye out.”
“I can take point if you want,” Lucas offered.
“No need. But I’ll let you know if I get tired.”
Lucas blotted his face with his bandana as Colt set off again. The rest of them followed in a ragged procession behind, Ruby and her gimp horse bringing up the rear. Lucas swept the horizon with his binoculars, but saw nothing but endless flatland to the east and craggy hills to the west. He probed the wound in his side with his fingers and was relieved that the bandage was dry, any blood clotted, his skin already beginning the healing process in spite of the demands of the ride.
Sierra pulled alongside him. “Does it hurt?”
He shook his head. “No. You did a good job.” He glanced at Eve. “You holding up?”
The little girl nodded and gave him a tired smile, her face sunburned in spite of her oversized hat. He smiled back and turned his attention back to the trail, hoping that Colt’s quiet perseverance meant he knew what he was doing. Lucas had calculated their rate of water consumption as well and had arrived at the same conclusion – barring a water source somewhere in the wilds, they would be out by the time they hit Albuquerque. And if they experienced any further delays, the experience would transition from difficult to deadly – he’d come across travelers who had died from dehydration only a few miles from water; distance in the desert was difficult to judge, even more so when one was desperately thirsty and in the end stages of life.
He kept his ruminations to himself, but made a note to talk to Colt in private to see if he had any plans he hadn’t shared. If there was a river or a lake somewhere along their route, they’d be fine, but if he was serious about making Albuquerque before their water ran dry, they were risking everything on a plan where even the slightest delay or mistake could cost them their lives.
Chapter 6
Duke finished his breakfast and sat back against the tree that was providing welcome shade. He’d caught a plump bass that morning and cooked it over a low fire, and he and Aaron had eaten their fill, along with some rice boiled in brook water. Aaron burped from his position across from Duke, his AR-15 on his lap.
“That was great,” Aaron said.
“Nothing like fresh fish,” Duke agreed. “Nice enough day. Too bad we have to move. Body could get used to this for a while.”
“I hear you.” Aaron paused. “So when are we going to ride?”
Duke sighed. “I’m tempted to hang out another day, but that wouldn’t be smart. Let’s get a few miles under our belts and see what we find.”
“Anything around here in particular?”
“Lucas’s place is up by Loving. He said it got looted, but it may be okay to spend the night there. If it’s still got a decent wall standing and good lines of sight, couldn’t hurt.”
“Won’t the bad guys be looking for him?”
Duke shrugged. “Sure. But they’ve probably been over Loving and his ranch a dozen times by now. He’s long gone, which even a bunch as dim as the Locos will figure out. Besides, it’s a long way from Pecos. I don’t see them parking a bunch of gunmen there on the off chance he shows up.”
They mounted up and set their horses north, sticking to the ridgeline. From their vantage point they could see everything on the plains below them, and Duke spent much of the ride searching the horizon for threats.
They made better time than Duke had hoped, and it was late afternoon when they came across the remnants of Lucas’s ranch. They rode through the entry, greeted by a dust devil twisting across the interior field that served as the courtyard.
Duke pointed at the iron gate. “Think we can wedge that into position for the night?”
Aaron regarded the metal slab, which had been knocked off its tracks. “Maybe. Might as well try.”
They dismounted and put their backs into it, but couldn’t budge the heavy barrier. Duke rigged up a rope to his horse, and Aaron did the same, and then together they were able to drag it upright and across the gap.
Duke inspected the result and nodded. “That should hold.”
“Not if there’s more than a couple of attackers.”
“No reason for anyone to try. Look around – the place has been gutted. I’d bet word’s spread among the scavengers there’s nothing left.”
“Hope you’re right,” Aaron said doubtfully.
“Me too.”
The main ranch house had been ransacked, and not a stick of furniture remained unbroken or a window intact. Duke walked grimly through the house, leading with his rifle, and when he reached the master bedroom, stiffened at the doorway. Someone had defecated in the center of the mattress, and the room was thick with flies.
“Jesus God…” he exclaimed, and backed away.
Aaron glanced into the bedroom and shook his head. “Looks like the animals have been through this pretty good.”
“Least the roof’s in one piece.”
“Think I’ll take my chances in the barn.”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
They were happy to find hay baled, dry but still edible. Duke unsaddled his horse and removed the saddlebags, and then did the same with his backup horse while Aaron followed suit.
Duke eyed the interior of the barn and hefted his gun. “I’ll take first watch. Get some sleep. It’ll be your turn before you know it.”
“Shame he had to leave all this. You can see it must have been pretty nice before…before they got to it.”
“Way the world works. No point in moaning over it; Lucas didn’t.” Duke paused. “He did what we’re going to do: move on.”
“That’s probably healthiest. Nothing left now that the town’s gone.”
Duke shook his head. “Just some walls.”
“We headed to Artesia tomorrow?”
“Might as well.”
Duke made his way to the gate with his rifle and night vision monocle and set out three magazines by his side. He glanced at the time as twilight darkened the ranch and calculated five hours for his watch. That would put Aaron on deck at midnight, which was fine – five hours of sleep apiece would be adequate, if not ample.
Duke had survived on far less.
Motion caught his attention at the far side of the gate, and he raised the monocle. A big rabbit, skinny with youth, bounced into a nearby clump of bushes. Duke smiled to himself and shook his head at the tasty bounty only a few yards away – an easy shot if he’d had his crossbow, which he hadn’t thought to bring. He picked up a rock and tossed it at the animal. “It’s your lucky day, little guy. Enjoy it while it lasts,” he whispered, feeling an odd sense of kinship with the rabbit, which was also doing its best to get by in a hostile world.
Chapter 7
Cano returned from using the radio and sat with Luis and the two Crew gunmen, who were visibly anxious as they waited for Tu
cker’s man to show. It was nearly two when the gangly young man arrived in a rush, horse in tow.
“You got the guns?” he asked.
“Don’t worry about that. We have them,” Cano answered.
“Let’s see ’em.”
Cano rose and moved to his saddlebags. He withdrew two AKMs with folding stocks and held them out so the man could see them.
The young man nodded. “Name’s Carlton.”
“Let’s ride. Wasted half the day in this dump,” Cano said, swinging up into the saddle.
“Got to be back in an hour,” Carlton said.
“You will be.”
The group rode out of town and made for the truck stop, the sun blazing overhead through the muggy humidity. When they reached the parking lot, they dismounted, and Cano escorted Carlton into the interior, where the flies had multiplied a thousandfold in their absence, joined by rats and a plethora of insects in the consumption of the men’s corpses.
Vermin scuttled away as they approached, and Carlton drew in a sharp breath at the overwhelming smell of putrefaction. The heat had done the bodies no favors, and the young man swallowed hard several times and barely made it three steps away before heaving up his breakfast.
Cano watched impassively as Carlton retched, and then moved to the corpses and leaned down to brush away a skin of maggots that had formed on their faces. He glanced up at the young man.
“You know them?” Cano growled.
Carlton peered at the corpses in the gloom and shook his head. “Never seen ’em before.”
“You sure? Take a closer look.”
Carlton wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. “That’s okay.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
Luis touched Carlton’s arm and guided him nearer. “Breathe through your mouth,” Luis advised, and Carlton nodded weakly.
Carlton regarded the first dead man for several beats and shook his head. “Nope.” When he moved to the second, his eyes widened for a split second.
The Day After Never Bundle (First 4 novels) Page 50