Devil's Canyon

by Ralph Compton

  The McCutcheons didn’t have the courage to look him in the eye, but Hal Durham laughed.

  “I’ll help,” Tarno Spangler said.

  He had his Bowie in his right hand, running his left thumb along the razor-sharp blade. He grinned at Durham, and the gambler’s laugh dribbled away and died.

  * * *

  The three miners waited until moonrise before attempting to escape. Leading their saddled horses, they made their way south, along the rocky banks of the Sevier. When they were well away from their former camp, they veered to the southeast, the shortest route by which they could return to Santa Fe. The way they expected Levi Collins and the wagons to come. If Levi was still alive, and there were any wagons. They stopped to rest as the first gray light of dawn crept into the eastern sky.

  “God, my feet are killin’ me,” Josh Snyder said.

  “So are mine,” said Isaac Puckett. “I feel like I’ve come at least fifty miles.”

  “More like twenty,” Felix Blackburn said, “but in a few minutes, it’ll be light enough for us to mount up and ride. But we’re still not far enough away that the Utes can’t ride us down, if they’re quick to learn we’re gone.”

  “I can’t believe we’ve come this far,” Snyder said.

  “Don’t crow too loud,” said Puckett. “Just when you begin praisin’ lady luck, that’s when the old gal kicks you off a canyon wall to the rocks below.”

  “Mount up,” Blackburn said. “Even in this rough country, we can cover seventy miles before dark, as long as we rest the horses.”

  They rode on, thankful as the miles fell behind them. After an hour at a slow gallop, they reined up to rest the horses.

  “Oh, damn the luck,” said Blackburn, his eyes on their back trail.

  Snyder and Puckett followed his gaze and their hearts sank. On a ridge three hundred yards behind them were six mounted Indians.

  * * *

  “Fortune was with us as we rode to that other Ute camp,” Levi Collins said. “What do you expect at this one?”

  “A lot tighter security, for one thing,” said Faro. “These Utes, likely throwing in with a white renegade, may be on the outs with the rest of the Utes. That means they’ll keep a close watch, especially at night. This bunch, with a white man leading them, may not be dependent on bow and arrows. They could be armed with Winchesters, making it extremely dangerous for other Utes to attack them.”

  “So other Utes, armed with bow and arrows, would have to get in very close before they would have a chance,” Collins said.

  “Yes,” said Faro, “and that generally means the defenders will have established a camp that’s all but impossible to approach in daylight. Indians—when there are large numbers of them—tend to become overconfident, like those who captured Mamie and Odessa. But if we’re dealing with a white renegade, after dark, he may ring the camp with enough men to hold off an army.”

  “How are we to find their camp without them first seeing us?” Collins asked.

  “We’ll follow their trail for a while,” said Faro. “Once we’re sure of the direction they are taking, we’ll swing wide and approach them from a flank. There’s no wind this early, but there should be later today. Tonight, for sure. We can’t afford to ride past them, for that would have them downwind from us. We may have to travel a great distance afoot, so our horses don’t nicker and give us away.”

  “I can understand the need for that,” Collins said, “but if we’re discovered…”

  “Then we’ll wish we’d gambled and taken the horses with us,” said Faro.

  Soon they reached the place where the Utes had obviously captured Slade and his men. They reined up, studying the tracks, and then warily followed them west.

  Chapter 7

  The day of rest afforded the teamsters while Faro and Collins scouted ahead wasn’t all that restful. Despite their professed hatred of Hal Durham, Mamie and Odessa McCutcheon spent most of their time with the gambler, and he seemed to have charmed them all over again. Dallas Weaver kept an uneasy eye on them, and he wasn’t surprised when, at noon, Odessa approached.

  “Mamie and me aim to take a dip in the creek. That is, if you got no objection.”

  “None,” Dallas said, “but let this be a warning. If you get yourselves carried off to an Indian camp again, I’m goin’ to recommend you be left there.”

  “Durham’s goin’ with us,” Odessa said.

  “Then the same warning applies to him,” said Dallas. “Tell him I said so.”

  She stalked off without a word, and the three of them headed down the creek where there was tree cover along the banks.

  “If that don’t rip the rag off the bush,” Tarno Spangler said. “After all the varmint’s done to ’em, they trot him along to watch, while they get naked and splash in the creek.”

  “I personally think Durham’s a slick-dealing, snake-bellied, low-down bastard,” said Dallas, “but I don’t think he’s done a thing to that pair of brass-plated females he wasn’t invited to do. I can’t speak for Faro, but far as I’m concerned, he can do anything to them he’s of a mind to, includin’ slittin’ their throats.”

  “Amen,” Shanghai Taylor said. “There’s times when Faro’s so damn forgivin’ and tolerant, I believe he missed his callin’. He should of been a parson, in a boiled shirt, black britches, and claw-hammer coat.”

  But the troublesome trio returned unharmed. Mamie and Odessa didn’t seem the least ashamed of their conduct, while Durham’s smug expression rubbed the teamsters the wrong way.

  “I know what Faro said,” Tarno Spangler growled, “but come dark, we ought to force the three of ’em under the same wagon.”

  “Come dark, I don’t care a damn what happens to them,” said Dallas. “If Faro and Collins haven’t returned, you, Shanghai, and me will have our work cut out for us. We’ll have to stand watch. We can’t count on Durham for but one thing, and that’s no-account to anybody but the McCutcheons.”

  * * *

  “I wonder if that’s all of ’em?” Josh Snyder said, as he eyed the mounted Indians.

  “My God, that’s enough,” said Isaac Puckett. “They’re two to our one.”

  “This is their country, so we can’t outride them,” Felix Blackburn said. “They’ll flank us and ride us down. If we can stay ahead of them until we reach cover, I’ll fall back and maybe get a couple of them from ambush.”

  “But the others will surround you,” said Snyder.

  “I’m counting on that,” Blackburn said. “With bow and arrows, they have to work in close. You and Isaac stay out of sight until they start movin’ in. Then you cut loose with your Winchesters. It’s our only chance.”

  “We can see six of them,” said Puckett. “That don’t mean there ain’t more.”

  “A chance we have to take,” Blackburn replied. “They’re waitin’ for us to make our move. Let’s ride.”

  The three kicked their horses into a fast gallop, and with a chorus of whoops, the Utes took up the chase. The pursued galloped through a small stand of trees, and while temporarily hidden, Blackburn took his Winchester and rolled out of the saddle. Puckett caught the reins of his horse without the animal breaking stride. Blackburn dropped down behind a stone upthrust and readied his Winchester. When the hard-driving Utes appeared, he dropped the first two. The remaining four split up, two riding to his right, and two riding to his left. They would attempt to flank him, knowing that Blackburn had no cover except from a frontal attack. Almost immediately, there was the bark of a distant rifle, as Blackburn’s companions bought in. Following a second shot, there was silence. The next sound Blackburn heard was the thump of horse’s hooves, as his companions returned.

  “We picked off two more of ’em,” Puckett said, “and it looks like there was only six of ’em. The other two lit a shuck back the way they come.”

  “Worked like a charm,” said Snyder.

  “This time,” Blackburn replied. “They miscalculated, expecting us to run for it. If we
had, they’d have flanked us, taken cover, and rode us down. While we’ve freed ourselves of this bunch, God knows how many more are between here and Santa Fe.”

  “I still ain’t sure we’re free of this bunch,” said Puckett, “way they hounded us back at the claim. Now, after we gunned down four of ’em, the others may be mad enough to foller us to Santa Fe.”

  “That’s why we’re goin’ to ride as fast and as far as we can, while it’s light,” Blackburn said. “Tonight, even if we must travel afoot, we’ll keep moving. We can’t count on meetin’ Levi, with wagon loads of grub and ammunition. We may have to go the distance with the little that we have.”

  * * *

  “I have the feeling we’ve followed this trail about as far as we can afford to,” Faro said, reining up his horse.

  “I was beginning to get nervous, myself,” said Collins, reining up beside him.

  “I think we’ll ride north a couple of miles,” Faro said, “and then west from there. We should be able to see or hear some sign of the camp. With so many men and horses, there should be something to warn us.”

  They rode north and then west, walking their horses. Wind had risen, and a sometimes breeze from the west brought the sign Faro had been seeking.

  “Smoke,” said Collins.

  “This is where we leave the horses,” Faro said. “This bein’ canyon country, I look for ’em to be pretty well dug in. One thing we can turn to our advantage, if they’re in some canyon. There’s a chance we can work our way in close enough to take their measure from the canyon rim, without being seen.”

  “If not today, then certainly tonight,” said Collins.

  “Like I said,” Faro replied, “these renegade-led Utes are likely to be more cautious at night. There’ll be more braves on watch, and while we’ll have the darkness for cover, there may be twice as many sentries.”

  “I yield to your experience,” said Collins. “If we’re discovered—even if we escape—we’ll have lost our advantage.”

  “Exactly,” Faro said. “We’re here for two purposes. First, we want to know just how many outlaws and Utes are in this bunch. Second, we must know the lay of the land, so we can plan our attack.”

  “I am learning there are certain advantages on the lawless frontier,” said Collins. “We are preparing to attack these Utes, led by men we perceive as outlaws, while they’ve done nothing to us. While I believe our suspicions are justified, in a civilized society, we would be crucified.”

  “I can agree with most of what you’ve said,” Faro replied, “but there’s an old saying that all is fair in love or war. There has never been a society so civilized that it didn’t at one time or another engage in war, for prestige or profit. This, my friend, is war, just as surely as was the recent conflict between North and South. I can’t prove these men we’re stalking are thieves and killers, but common sense tells me that if we don’t go after them, they’ll be comin’ after us. I’m countin’ on the same gut feelin’ that kept me alive through four long years of shoot-or-be-shot.”

  “You could write a book, Duval,” said Collins. “You are an educated man.”

  “Self-educated,” Faro said. “I was born into a sharecropper family, and all we had to read was the Bible and an almanac. The Bible was considerably better readin’. I learned to write by copying lines of scripture from it.”

  Faro and Collins had continued on foot for more than a mile before the trees thinned out, giving way to open land laced with arroyos of varying magnitudes.

  “There,” Faro said softly, pointing.

  Momentarily the wind had died, and a tendril of gray smoke was barely visible against the blue of the sky.

  “Distances out here are deceiving,” said Collins. “They may be very close.”

  “Generally, where there’s this many canyons, at least one of them will have water,” Faro said. “Let’s look for water. If we can find it, and it’s fallin’ into a canyon, it may be the one we’re lookin’ for.”

  Eventually they found a fast-running stream, and they could hear it—like distant wind—as it rushed over a stone abutment and fell into the canyon below.

  “No promises,” said Faro softly, “but this may be it. The falling of the water will be helpful in coverin’ our approach, and it’s likely the camp will be near the head of the canyon.”

  There was a considerable pool of water at the foot of the fall, so the camp itself was far enough down-canyon to afford a good view. Except for a time-worn gap through which the water flowed over the rim, there was no access to the canyon below. Finding hand- and toeholds in the stone parapet, Faro and Collins climbed high enough to see over the edge and into the canyon. From their position they could see half a dozen Indians strung out along the east and west rims. Their grips in the stone were precarious, and it was soon necessary for Faro and Collins to climb down.

  “Obvious enough why they don’t post a sentry up here,” Collins panted, once they were safely down. “Men would have to go over this thing on a rope, one at a time, and I don’t see a blasted thing to which to anchor the rope.”

  “We won’t be goin’ into this canyon on a rope,” Faro said. “Not from any position. All together, there must be near a hundred men down there. That bunch whose tracks we were following couldn’t have been more than a quarter of the total. There wasn’t an Indian in the lot armed with bow and arrows. Meetin’ this outfit in anything less than an ambush would be the finish of us. Of the seven white men, did you notice anything unusual?”

  “Four of them were keeping pretty much to themselves,” Collins said. “I presume they are the men who were trailing us, who were captured by the renegades.”

  “I don’t think we can refer to them as captured,” said Faro, “because they all still had their weapons. For whatever reason, they’ve been accepted into the gang.”

  “They must have convinced these renegades they can be helpful,” Collins said.

  “That could account for them still being alive,” said Faro. “If one of them took a hunk of that gold ore from your coat pocket, it’s likely in the hands of the renegades now.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right,” Collins agreed. “There’s too much logic to be denied. Their presence here most surely is because of us. That piece of ore assures them there’s gold, but they don’t know where it is.”

  “That’s the straight of it,” said Faro. “Nothing else makes sense.”

  “Now that we’ve learned this much,” Collins said, “what are we going to do?”

  “I don’t believe we’re in any immediate danger from them,” said Faro, “because we’re still far from the claim.”

  “An excellent point,” Collins said, “provided they know that. But how are they to be aware of it?”

  “I seem to recall there being questions to our destination before we left Santa Fe,” said Faro. “Are you sure one of us didn’t refer to this as a five-hundred-mile journey?”

  “Now that you mention it,” Collins replied, “I can’t say that I didn’t speak of the distance, myself. It was a way to avoid talk of the claim.”

  “It’s possible, then, that we can travel another three hundred miles before we have to face up to this bunch of renegades. Trouble is, if we wait too long, they’ll come after us, and we’ll be fighting them at a time and place of their choosing,” Faro said. “And we can’t afford that.”

  “So we must plan an attack soon,” said Collins.

  “Yes,” Faro said, “and I think that’s the last thing they’ll be expecting. They’ve taken our measure and know we’re few in number. Should any of this bunch do any scouting, they’ll find our tracks and know we’ve been watching them. If we’re to attack them, we must make our move while we still have the element of surprise on our side. Let’s get back to the horses.”

  “You’ll be including the others in this plan, then,” said Collins.

  Shanghai, Tarno, and Dallas,” Faro said. “I don’t look for much help from anybody else. Do you?”


  Collins sighed. “No, I suppose not.”

  * * *

  In the absence of Faro and Collins, things were not going well in the wagon camp. While Shanghai, Tarno, and Dallas had kept to themselves, they couldn’t avoid hearing the sometimes violent arguments involving the McCutcheons and the ne’er-do-well gambler.

  “Should I go on to California,” Durham said, “I refuse to take more than one of you with me. One woman, one man.”

  “You ain’t observed that rule up to now,” said Odessa in an ugly tone.

  “A man can mend his ways,” Durham said smugly.

  “A man can,” said Odessa. “That eliminates you.”

  “I won’t allow you to anger me,” Durham said. “I’m only takin’ one of you with me.”

  “Which one?” Odessa demanded.

  “I haven’t made up my mind,” said Durham. “Let’s just say the one of you proving herself the most deserving. Impress me.”

  “I gave you the thousand dollars for the mules and wagon,” Odessa said.

  “You did, damn it,” Mamie shouted, “and half that money was mine.”

  “Now, ladies,” said Durham soothingly, “haven’t I given unselfishly of myself to each of you? How far must a man go to earn a meager thousand dollars?”

  “You sneaking bastard,” Odessa bawled, “you got things all turned around. It’s you that should be payin’ us, not us payin’ you.”

  “Oh, come now,” said Durham, tilting his hat back on his head, “I only took what was offered. I never presumed either of you the kind to expect money for a gift.”

  “By God,” Shanghai Taylor said, “he beats all. Whatever he’s got, if I could bottle an’ sell it, I’d never have to whack another mule’s behind, as long as I live.”

  “Yeeehaaa,” Tarno shouted, “they’re fightin’ again.”