Devil's Canyon

by Ralph Compton

  “Thank you,” said Mamie. “That makes me feel better.”

  “If this gold claim don’t pan out,” Josh Snyder said, “Felix can always build himself a church and pass the hat ever’ Sunday.”

  “Shut up, Josh,” said Levi Collins.

  * * *

  The day had been calm, with little wind, and the shooting a few miles to the east had not gone unnoticed.

  “What you reckon was the cause of that?” Ebeau asked. “Indians?”

  “Maybe,” said Luke, “but that was a powerful lot of shooting for just ten men. Sounded more like twenty, maybe thirty.”

  “There’s a chance the Utes have cut down the odds some,” Kirk said.

  “We can’t count on that,” said Luke, “but we got one thing strong in our favor. They might have been expectin’ the Utes, but they won’t be lookin’ for us.”

  “We’ll still have to make every shot count,” Inkler said. “There ain’t much cover along this river. Why don’t we ride south a ways and attack from that direction?”

  “Maybe you got somethin’ there,” said Luke. “Not much along the river except brush, and that bunch will be shootin’ back. Let’s fan out and ride south a ways, but don’t get beyond rifle range. Look for rock upthrusts, windblown trees, or anything that’ll provide us some cover. We don’t have that much time.”

  “Maybe one of us oughta ride back and see where them wagons are,” Giles said. “How do we know they’re follerin’ this river?”

  “It makes sense,” said Luke. “The claim’s on the river, and they’re comin’ west. What other direction do you reckon they’d take?”

  “I dunno,” Giles admitted, “but I just think we oughta be sure.”

  “Maybe he’s right,” said Ebeau. “Not only do we need to be sure they’re comin’ along the river, we need to know when they’ll be here. If they was attacked by Utes, some of ’em may be dead or wounded. That could slow ’em up, and we’ll be settin’ here into sometime next week.”

  “Then one of you ride back a ways,” Luke said. “Find out where they are, and decide when they’ll be gettin’ here.”

  “I’ll go,” said Giles. “I can’t abide waitin’ for nothin’ or nobody.”

  “Just be danged sure you don’t let ’em see you,” Luke warned.

  Giles mounted and rode east, careful to stay well away from the river.

  * * *

  The wagons had advanced several miles past the scene of the ambush, and there they had remained for two days, allowing the wounded to rest and overcome the ever-present threat of infection.

  “I reckon we’ll move out in the morning at first light,” said Faro. “Dallas, are you up to it?”

  “Sure,” Dallas said. “I got a leg wound, and that won’t bother me handlin’ the reins. It was you that was nailed in the shoulder. Are you up to it?”

  “Not completely,” said Faro, “but Collins has agreed to take over the wagon until I’m in better shape.”

  “I’ll take it from here on to the claim,” Collins said. “I think we’ll be there sometime the day after tomorrow, if there are no delays.”

  “Maybe I’m still spooked from that last ambush,” said Faro, “but I aim to ride ahead and be sure there are no more surprises.”

  The weather had turned much colder, with a chill wind out of the northwest. Because of their leg wounds, Dallas and Felix had been assigned to the first watch. Following the death of Odessa, Mamie never slept until Felix did, choosing to stand the first watch with him. Collins, Tarno, and Dallas often kept their distance, allowing the two to talk. This night before they resumed their journey, Mamie seemed to have a lot on her mind. Felix kept his silence, waiting for her to speak. Finally she did.

  “If the gold claim is all that you expect, what will you do?”

  “I’m not entirely sure,” said Felix. “Maybe I’ll stay in Santa Fe. Would that suit you?”

  “Yes,” she replied, “as long as you’re there. I’ve always heard that when we have some wealth, it changes us. Will we have a big house, servants, and fancy carriages?”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “My God, no,” she cried.

  Felix laughed. “Then I reckon it’s safe to tell you there won’t be any such. No matter if I’m flush or broke, all I want is a roof over my head, good grub, and a good woman.”

  “Then I suppose my work is cut out for me,” said Mamie. “I’ll count on you having a poor memory and try as hard as I can.”

  “We’ll be startin’ over,” Felix said. “Your past and mine will be exactly that. The past. If we have problems, they’ll be the result of whatever we encounter in the future.”

  “It sounds like you have some in mind,” said Mamie. “Do you?”

  “I don’t know,” Felix said. “It depends mostly on you. Bein’ honest, I have to tell you that I don’t plan on retiring to a rocking chair. A man wasn’t meant to do nothing, even if he can afford to. Lay about long enough, your mind decides your life is over, and you die. I don’t intend for that to happen to me.”

  “I haven’t decided whether you should have been a philosopher or a preacher,” she replied, “but what you’ve just said makes sense. What do you have in mind for us?”

  “I haven’t spoken to Levi, Isaac, or Josh,” said Felix, “but I’d like to start a freighting business between Saint Joseph, Missouri, and Santa Fe. The frontier’s growing, but the railroad’s a good twenty years away.”*

  “I think that’s a glorious thing to do,” Mamie said. “Perhaps you can join in with Faro and his teamsters. They’ve proven themselves to be men you can trust.”

  “They’ve done that and more,” said Felix. “I’d trust any one or all of them with my life. I’ll talk to them before we return to Santa Fe.”

  Southwestern Utah, along the Sevier River.

  October 14, 1870.

  Faro rode out ahead of the wagons, and soon reached what remained of Dog Face. He wheeled his horse and started back. In the lead wagon, Collins reined up the teams when he saw Faro coming.

  “We’ll have to take the wagons away from the river a ways,” Faro said. “What’s left of the last of the renegades is up ahead, and the varmints have been at him. There’s not enough of him to bury, but plenty to spook the mules.”

  “We must have wounded him, then,” said Collins.

  “Not necessarily,” Faro replied. “I didn’t see his gun belt, his Colt, and not a sign of his horse and saddle. But I did find the tracks of one shod and ten unshod horses headin’ south. I think this hombre had the misfortune to run into the Utes who survived their attack on us, and found them no longer friendly.”

  “A fitting end for him, I suppose,” said Collins. “Do you think that means the Utes have given up on us?”

  “Maybe that particular bunch,” Faro said, “but not necessarily all of them. But at least the rest likely won’t be armed with Winchesters.”

  “Lead out,” said Collins, “and we’ll follow.”

  Faro rode a mile south of the river, thus allowing them plenty of leeway to bypass the grisly remains of Dog Face. It was this deviation and pure chance that alerted Faro to the rider who had been stalking them, for the tracks he found had been made the day before. Once the wagons had circled around and again reached the river, Collins reined up, for it was time to rest the teams. Faro wheeled his horse and rode back to meet them: they had to know of the danger ahead….

  * * *

  Picketing his horse and finding high ground, Giles had waited, his eyes on the distant river. He wasn’t surprised when he saw the single rider ahead of the lead wagon, but they were following the river, and he was all the more confident. There was virtually no chance of them discovering his trail, as long as he kept to the south of the river. Returning to his horse, he mounted and rode back the way he had come.

  “Just like you figured,” he told Luke, when he had joined his waiting comrades. “They ain’t more than a day away, and they’re follerin’ the
river.”

  “You didn’t leave a trail to warn them, then,” Luke said.

  “I told you I wouldn’t,” said Giles angrily. “I kept to the brush, a mile south of the river, comin’ back the same way I rode out.”

  * * *

  Seeing Faro returning, all the outfit gathered around. Faro didn’t waste words.

  “We owe that dead renegade for takin’ us away from the river. I found tracks of a shod horse leadin’ east and returning west. Somebody’s stalking us.”

  “Oh, God,” Mamie cried, “not another ambush.”

  “That or worse,” said Faro. “Maybe claim jumpers.”

  “Claim jumpers?” Collins said. “How would they know of the claim?”

  “Durham, the bastard,” said Dallas.

  “That’s as good a guess as any,” Faro conceded, “but whatever their interest in us, we won’t be nearly as surprised as they will. Tarno, once we’ve made camp for the night, you and me will do some stalking of our own.”

  “Bueno,” said Tarno.

  “But you can’t see their tracks in the dark,” Mamie said.

  “We won’t have to,” said Faro. “They expected us to follow the river, and that’s why their rider kept a mile to the south of it. That’s exactly what Tarno and me will do, when we go looking for them.”

  “They’ll be almighty confident,” Tarno said, “and if we start soon enough, we’ll be able to follow the smoke of their supper fire.”

  “I agree that we must know where and how many there are,” said Collins, “but they’ll still have the advantage, because we won’t know when or where they’ll attack.”

  “We’re going to pretend they’re Comanches,” Faro said, “and in Texas, we had our own way of dealing with them. We’d find their camp, and before they had a chance to give us hell, we’d pay them a visit.”

  Tarno laughed. “When Faro and me find out where this bunch is holed up, we’ll all ride in after dark and deal out some Texas justice.”

  “You’d kill them all?” Collins asked.

  “If they won’t have it any other way,” said Faro. “Would you rather they kill us?”

  “No,” Collins said, “but it seems…well…cold-blooded, to shoot them down without warning.”

  “I didn’t say we wouldn’t warn them,” said Faro, “but if they’ve come with killing on their minds, they’ll answer with gunfire. Don’t forget that.”

  “We’ll give them as much warnin’ as a rattler would,” Dallas said. “After that, it’ll be Katy-bar-the-door.”

  Nothing more was said. The teams had been unharnessed for the night and supper was over when Faro and Tarno rode out. Collins watched them go.

  “Levi,” said Felix Blackburn, “they know what they’re doing. That last bushwhacking hurt us. We can’t stand another.”

  Collins sighed. “I know, Felix. I know.”

  It was still light enough for Faro and Tarno to see the tracks that led west, and before dark they had assured themselves that the rider was, indeed, headed in the direction the wagons would travel. He had kept well away from the river to avoid leaving a trail.

  “I’d like to get my hands on Hal Durham,” Tarno growled. “This is what we get for not shootin’ the varmint when we had the chance. I hope he’s with this bunch.”

  “I doubt he will be,” said Faro. “He’s too slippery.”

  Denver, Colorado. October 14, 1870.

  Hal Durham reached Denver in the early afternoon, and except for the need of a shave, haircut, bath, and change of clothing, he was no worse for the wear. He had exhausted the grain two days before, and his horse was gaunt. Despite his many shortcomings, his feelings for horses were genuine, and he left the animal at a stable for a rubdown and graining. While he wasn’t exactly flush, he had more than three hundred dollars, and he wasted no time in buying himself a new suit of clothes, including a fancy swallowtail coat. He then found a barbershop that offered baths. Afterward he treated himself to a haircut and a shave. Finally he stopped at a restaurant and enjoyed the first decent meal he’d had since leaving Santa Fe. By then it was dusk, and the town had begun to come alive. The saloons were all aglow, and Durham began making the rounds. He paused before one whose gaudily lettered false-front proclaimed it Denver’s finest. LAURA’S BAGNIO SALOON. The place was a two-story affair, and through the glassed-in front, Durham could see women moving about and a winding stairway. But most interesting of all was a small sign reading: HOUSE DEALER WANTED. Durham entered, and the fanciest-dressed woman of them all stood behind the bar. Approaching her, Durham grinned.

  “Would you be Laura?” he asked.

  “I might be,” she replied, “depending on who you are and why you want to know.”

  “I’m Hal Durham, and I want that job of house dealer. I can start tonight.”

  “Then I’m Laura, and here’s the rules. Twenty percent and an honest game. You get caught slick dealing, with a shaved deck, or any other way of cheating, and I’ll personally see that you go to jail. You are not to socialize with the women, and you’re not allowed upstairs. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Durham, “and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  She nodded, saying nothing, but Durham thought she looked upon him more favorably. He would shy away from the girls upstairs, because he had his eyes on Laura herself. He could do and had done worse than a fancy woman who owned a prosperous saloon with a whorehouse upstairs….

  Southwestern Utah. The Sevier River.

  October 15, 1870.

  As Tarno predicted, a gentle wind out of the northwest brought them the distinctive odor of wood smoke. By unspoken agreement, they dismounted, picketing their horses.

  “They ain’t playin’ it too smart,” Tarno said quietly. “That smokes give ’em away quick as a roaring fire.”

  “Not if I hadn’t seen those tracks,” said Faro. “The wagons are still a day away, much too distant for the smoke to betray them.”

  They progressed on foot, the smell of smoke growing stronger, until at last they could see the wink of a small fire. It was a good distance from the river, offering an advantage to Faro and Tarno, for there was plenty of cover. They crept closer, until they could hear the murmur of voices. In the starlight and in the dim glow of the fire, they counted eight men. Having learned what they wished to know, Faro and Tarno quietly made their way to their horses and rode away. Nearing their own camp, they reined up.

  “Identify yourselves,” came the challenge.

  “Faro and Tarno,” said Faro.

  They rode in, dismounting, and the outfit gathered around.

  “There are eight of them,” Faro said. “We’ll wait until moonrise, and then we’ll ride.”

  “There are eight of us,” said Collins.

  “Nine,” Mamie said. “You’re not leaving me here alone.”

  “You can go,” said Faro, “but you’ll remain with the horses.”

  “Do we dare leave the wagons and the teams unattended?” Collins asked.

  “We don’t have a lot of choice,” said Faro.

  “A couple of us may have to ride mules,” Tarno said. “We’re still two horses shy.”

  “Not anymore,” said Shanghai. “While you and Tarno was gone, two saddled horses showed up, lookin’ half starved. Likely they belonged to them renegades.”

  “Bueno,” Faro said. “We can use them.”

  “How do you propose to handle the attack?” Collins asked. “Will you challenge them with a chance to surrender, or just shoot them down?”

  “I’m not as much a barbarian as I seem,” said Faro. “While we must be prepared to shoot if they resist, we’ll leave them a way out, if they have sense enough to take it. We’ll surround them, get the drop, and demand they surrender their guns. If they do, they can ride back to wherever they came from. Any man resisting will be shot. Fair enough?”

  “Fair enough,” Collins said. “If they’re here for any purpose other than attacking us and jumping o
ur claim, they’ll go peacefully. Resistance will prove their intentions and their guilt.”

  There was little more to be said, and they waited until Faro gave the order to saddle up and ride. Slowly the moon crept above the treetops, adding its silvery glow to the light of distant stars. Finally it was time, and Faro gave them last-minute instructions.

  “Levi, Dallas, and Josh, you’ll be with Tarno, and the four of you will approach their camp from the east. Isaac, Felix, and Dallas, you’ll be with me, and we’ll circle around and approach from the west. Once we’re in position, we’ll fan out so we won’t all be shooting at the same target. Remember, after I challenge them, any man going for his gun gets the same bitter medicine they’re plannin’ for us to take. Any questions?”

  There were none, and with Faro and Tarno leading, they rode west. Reaching the place where Faro and Tarno had left their horses, they reined up. Without speaking, they all dismounted.

  “Mamie,” said Faro in a whisper, “stay with the horses.”

  “I will,” Mamie replied. “Do be careful.”

  Nobody spoke, but Felix squeezed her hand before they were swallowed by shadows.

  Quietly Faro led the way around the camp, which was now silent. Reaching the far side of it, Faro positioned his men a few feet apart. In the camp there was a glow as someone drew on a smoke. A voice spoke and another answered, proof enough that some of the men were yet awake. Faro counted slowly to a hundred, and with his Winchester at the ready, shouted his challenge.

  “You men are surrounded. Drop your…”

  But the response was about what Faro had expected, for the darkness blossomed with gunfire and the silence was shattered by the roar of Winchesters. To Faro’s right and left, Winchesters barked as men fired at muzzle flashes.

  “Don’t shoot no more,” a voice cried.

  “Hold your fire,” Faro shouted.

  All firing ceased, and the rising wind blew a spark from the dying fire.

  “Build up that fire,” said Faro, “and stand before it with your hands up.”

  There was only silence, but the fire flamed up from the coals, revealing five men with their hands up.