Wilderness Double Edition #7

by David Robbins

  Cain turned and stared accusingly at him. “You were party to this, weren’t you? It was your job to distract me while he knocked me down.”

  “I had no idea he was going to do what he did,” Nate said.

  “Liar! Do you take me for a simpleton? You were fixin’ to knock me out, take my knife, and cut yourselves free.”

  “I’m telling you the truth.”

  “And horses can fly!” Cain declared. “If I didn’t need you, King, I’d shoot you right here and now. As it is, you stay healthy so long as you don’t pull a dumb stunt like this again. If you do, you’ll be sorry.”

  Recognizing the futility of disputing the accusation, Nate sat quietly and waited for Cain’s wrath to spend itself.

  “This is what I get for going easy on you. I should have beaten you some to show you what would happen if you acted up. If only I had a pair of shackles or leg irons, I’d fix your hash! But I guess I’ll have to make do.”

  Smoky Woman interrupted, pointing at her bloody brother. “May I help him?”

  “No!” Cain barked, snapping upright. He picked up the Hawken, then grabbed her by the wrist and stormed off into the cave, vanishing around a bend.

  Nate promptly sidled over to Flying Hawk. The warrior was conscious but badly battered; his lips had been smashed, his nose was bleeding profusely, and his left eyebrow had been split open. “Are you all right?” Nate asked, knowing Flying Hawk couldn’t understand the words but hoping his tone would suffice to convey his worry.

  The Ute pushed off the ground and shook his head a few times as if to clear it, his mane of black hair flying. Then he looked at Nate and the corners of his bleeding mouth tugged slightly upward.

  Smiling at the warrior’s indomitable spirit, Nate sat up. He was sweating profusely again and his mouth was dry. Lying in the dust nearby was the tin cup, but it might as well be lying on the moon. He glanced at the inviting spring, and longed to be able to go over and enjoy a refreshing drink. Rather than torment himself with the impossible, he turned away and gazed forlornly at the slate-blue sky.

  Flying Hawk’s stunt was bound to make escape harder, he reflected. Cain would be more cautious from then on out, seldom if ever giving them the chance they needed. It was wiser to play along for the time being, to put Cain off guard. Yet how could he convince the Ute of that when he couldn’t even employ sign language until his hands were loose? There was no way.

  Dejected, Nate listened to the gusty wind coming from the northwest and waited for Cain to reappear. He had a long wait. The broiling sun climbed steadily higher and higher. By his estimation an hour went by, then two. His thirst progressively worsened. Now and again he debated whether to sit back to back with Flying Hawk so he could try to untie the warrior, but he never carried through with the thought. The risk was too great. At any moment Cain might emerge.

  The afternoon was half over when their captor finally strolled into the sunlight. He wore two pistols and his knife and had his thumbs hooked under his belt. “Gets hot here, don’t it?” he remarked, strolling over. “Hot as an oven.”

  “I don’t mind,” Nate lied, straightening and composing himself. He refused to give Cain the satisfaction of seeing him in misery.

  “Sort of reminds me of the desert,” Cain said. “The heat there can roast a man alive in a day or so if he ain’t careful. You ever been to the desert, King?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I have. It’s no place for greenhorns. There are scorpions that can kill a man with stingers no longer than your little fingernail. There are rattlers that move all funny-like, from side to side instead of goin’ along in a straight line. There are toads as big as rabbits. And there are ugly lizards that bite down on a man so hard he can’t ever get ’em off. All sorts of strange critters live there.”

  “How interesting.”

  Cain sighed. “Here I am tryin’ to be civil and you act like you hate the sight of me.”

  “I do.”

  “Would you feel different if I said that I’m sorry I blew up earlier? Hell, you’ve got to admit I had good reason. Now I want us to be on speakin’ terms again. Is there anything wrong with that?”

  Nate motioned with his arms. “Not at all. And since you’re in such a kind mood, cut me free and I promise to behave myself.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Figured as much.”

  “You just don’t understand.”

  “Enlighten me then,” Nate prompted, utterly perplexed by Cain’s erratic behavior. Two hours ago the man had been primed to blow his brains out. Now Cain was acting as if they should be the best of friends. Perhaps his previous hunch was correct; Cain wasn’t right in the head.

  “I suppose it is time at that,” Cain remarked. Drawing his knife, he leaned over to slash the rope binding Nate’s ankles. He did the same with Flying Hawk. Then, before either of them could stand, he glided to one side and drew a pistol. The knife went back in its sheath and the other pistol took its place.

  Nate heard the distinctive metallic clicks as both hammers were cocked simultaneously, and he looked up into the menacing barrel pointed at his forehead. “I hope you don’t sneeze,” he said.

  A cold smile was Cain’s reply. “On your feet, both of you,” he directed. “Slowly, please.”

  As Nate complied the same order was given to Flying Hawk, who jumped up and stood with his eyes fixed in hatred on Cain. Nate feared the warrior would commit another rash act, but Flying Hawk made no aggressive moves.

  “Here’s what we’re goin’ to do,” Cain said. “I want you to walk ahead of me into the cave. When I tell you to stop, stop. Don’t try any tricks or you won’t see daylight again.” As usual, he translated his statement for the Ute’s benefit.

  Nate turned and took the lead. He saw Smoky Woman standing contritely near the entrance. For some reason she refused to meet his gaze when he went by her.

  The interior of the cave was spacious, fifteen feet from wall to wall and ten feet from the ground to the ceiling. Someone had dug out regularly spaced niches in the walls for candles, only a few of which were currently lit. Past the supplies the passageway turned to the right.

  Nate rounded the corner and stopped short in surprise. The passage widened, forming a large chamber lit by a bright lantern. To the right lay thick buffalo robes for sleeping purposes. To the left, propped against the wall, were picks, shovels, chisels, and other tools. Directly ahead, where the chamber narrowed again, was a huge pile of pale rocks and dirt. Near the pile were a half-dozen closed packs.

  “Figure it out yet?” Cain asked.

  “No,” Nate admitted.

  “You will soon,” Cain said, and snickered. He spoke in Ute.

  Smoky Woman walked across the chamber, knelt by a pack, and opened the flap. Taking out a rock, she returned and held it out in the palm of her hand for Nate to see.

  In the glow of the lantern the brilliant yellow hue was unmistakable. With a start Nate realized he was gazing on a treasure few men had ever beheld, a solid gold nugget the size of a hen’s egg. He glanced at the bulging packs, the full implications hitting him with the force of a physical blow. Behind him Cain laughed.

  “I reckon you understand now.”

  “All those packs?” Nate blurted.

  “Yep.” Cain stepped in front of them and gazed at the nugget, caressing it with his eyes. “It’s taken me months to dig out that much. About broke my back doin’ it too.” He waved a pistol at the tunnel beyond the pile. “And there’s more where that came from, tons of gold in a vein of quartz, the richest find ever.”

  “How did you find it?”

  “Over a year ago I was out lookin’ for beaver with my partner, Simon. We found that park and were scoutin’ around for a way out the other side when we came on the ravine. I wanted to go back but Simon voted to go on. Am I glad he did.” Cain chuckled. “Well, we started across this hellhole toward the mountains to the west. The way we saw it, no one had ever been in this part of the country a
nd the beaver in those mountains would be ripe for the takin’. Then, about the time we laid eyes on this cave, a thunderstorm came along and drove us to cover.”

  Nate was trying to calculate the wealth those packs must contain, the total soaring into the millions. If Cain was to head for St. Louis at that very minute, he’d still be one of the wealthiest men on the continent, perhaps wealthier than John Jacob Astor, the king of the fur trade, widely acknowledged as the richest man in America.

  “We found some old brush in here and got a fire goin’. Simon took to pokin’ around, carryin’ a firebrand with him so he could see. The next I knew, he was screamin’ like the Devil himself was after his soul and I ran on back to see why.” Cain paused, his face aglow with the memory. “My eyes about bugged out when I saw all the gold. We knew we were rich. Anything we wanted would be ours. You have no notion of how that felt. Why, we whooped and hollered so loud we about lost our voices.”

  “What then?” Nate asked. Despite his dislike for Cain he was fascinated by the tale.

  “We chipped off a few nuggets and went on out for the supplies we’d need,” Cain answered. “Got back here about five months ago and set right to work.”

  “Where’s your partner now?”

  The joy on Cain’s face drained away, leaving his skin ashen, his lips compressed. “I don’t rightly know.”

  Nate’s first reaction was to suspect Cain of lying. Since the dawn of time men had fought and died to possess the precious metal. Wealthy Egyptians, it was said, had been the first to go gold crazy. They had adorned themselves in gold collars, gold bracelets, gold necklaces, gold rings, and other gold jewelry as a symbol of their status. In the Middle Ages alchemists had tried to make gold from lead and mercury. The Spanish had scoured the world for the mythical El Dorado, a land where gold was supposedly as common as sand. Gold was the treasure of treasures. Because of the value placed on it, men would do anything to obtain some. Greed and gold went hand in hand. Lying, stealing, even killing were justified in the eyes of those who craved the metal. How natural, then, that Cain had let greed overwhelm him. He abruptly realized the man was speaking.

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You don’t have to say a word. Your face gives you away.” Cain made a low hissing noise and began pacing back and forth. “What you think shouldn’t matter to me one way or the other, but it does. I didn’t kill Simon, King, if that’s what you’re thinkin’. He up and vanished without a trace.”

  “Leaving all this gold behind?”

  Cain whirled on Nate and leveled both flintlocks. “Damn your bones! Simon was like a brother to me. We’d trapped together for pretty near six years. He saved my hide plenty of times and I did the same for him.” He gestured angrily at the packs. “Take a good look. There’s enough gold there for ten men. Why would I mind sharin’ with him? Tarnation, man! I needed him to help get the gold out.”

  The sincerity in Cain’s voice was real. And Cain was right about needing a partner, Nate conceded. It wouldn’t be smart for a lone man to try and pack that much gold safely out of the mountains and all the way to St. Louis or wherever. The going would be slow, taking weeks longer than usual. Traversing some of the steep, narrow trails would be downright hazardous. And once on the prairie, out in the open where roving war parties could easily spot him, a lone rider would be easy pickings.

  Cain’s indignation had subsided and he had lowered the pistols. “A little over four months ago it happened,” he said softly. “We were doin’ real fine ’til then, minin’ more ore than we figured we would. At the rate we were goin’, we aimed to mine for another two months and then head for civilization.” He gave a shudder as if cold. “There hadn’t been any trouble at all. The Utes, near as we could tell, never came anywhere near this place. We had it all to ourselves. Or so we thought until Simon found the footprints.”

  “What footprints?”

  “Down by the wash. Clear as day, right there in the dirt, was a line of tracks. Whoever made ’em had been barefoot. He’d come out of the wash and stood there starin’ at the cave for a spell, then went back into the wash and ran off. We backtracked him a mile or so, but lost the tracks on rocky ground.”

  “It must have been a Ute,” Nate speculated.

  “You ever see an Ute go around barefoot?” Cain responded. “The young’uns do, but the adults all wear moccasins.” He paused. “Anyway, the feet weren’t right for an Ute.”

  “How so?”

  “Indian feet ain’t much different than ours. These tracks were made by somebody with short, wide feet, shorter and wider than I ever seen.”

  “Did the tracks show up again?”

  Cain swallowed hard. “The day Simon vanished. We’d worked late the night before and I was tuckered out, so I slept in later than usual. Simon got up first, afore daylight, and went out to make coffee. I remember catchin’ a whiff of it and thinkin’ of how good it would taste.”

  Nate listened closely.

  “I dozed off again, and when next I woke up I knew something was wrong. Don’t ask me how. I just knew. So I jumped out of bed and went outside to find Simon. The first thing I saw was the sun, two hours high if it was a minute. Simon would never have let me sleep in that long.” Cain licked his lips. “Then I saw the pack animals were gone, all three of ’em, and our saddle horses were loose. I started yellin’ for Simon but he never answered.”

  If a piece of rock had fallen from the ceiling Nate would have jumped a foot.

  “I couldn’t figure it out. Right away I went after the horses and brought ’em back. As I was leadin’ ’em to the spring I came on the tracks, more of the barefoot kind, only this time there had been six or seven of ’em, and they’d come off the rise instead of out of the wash.”

  “And your partner?”

  Cain spoke so low he could barely be heard. “I found his tracks by the fire where he’d squatted while he got the coffee goin’. He’d had his back to the rise, and I expect he never saw the ones who grabbed him. ’Cause that’s what they did. Snuck up on him and took him off, and him a big, strappin’ son of a gun who could lick his weight in wildcats.”

  Nate no longer believed Cain had killed Simon. He was sure Cain was telling the truth for once. The hint of fear in the man’s eyes was proof of that.

  “I got my rifle and ran on up to the top of the rise, but there was no sign of anyone. Whoever they were, they’d taken our pack animals and Simon and done it all so quiet I never heard a thing.” Cain slowly shook his head in evident disbelief. “I don’t know why they didn’t take our horses too, unless maybe the horses broke loose and they couldn’t bother to round ’em up ’cause they wanted to get out of here quick-like.”

  “Did you backtrack them?”

  “I tried. But it was the same old story. The trail led to rocky ground and I lost the sign again.”

  “And you stayed on after that? Didn’t you think they might come back for you?”

  “I’m no fool, King. It was all I thought about for the next few days. I didn’t hardly know what to do. Leavin’ didn’t seem right. I kept hopin’ Simon would show, and the notion of cuttin’ out made me feel guilty, like I was yellow or something. But after a while I got to thinkin’ and knew he was never goin’ to come back. Whoever took him had killed him. And since I wasn’t partial to sharin’ his fate, I decided to pack up all the gold we’d mined so far and head out of these infernal mountains.”

  “What stopped you?”

  “Two things. First off, I only had the two saddle horses and they ain’t used to carryin’ heavy packs. Second, if I loaded both of ’em with the gold I’d have to walk and it’s a far piece to Missouri.” Cain was calm again, his voice rising. “I knew there was Utes in this region, so I figured on stealin’ some of their horses to use as pack animals. The first village I came on was Smoky Woman’s. I saw her and some other women off a ways from the lodges, and I started to swing on around ’em when I got a good
look at her.” He smiled. “I tell you, I never saw any woman so pretty in all my life. I knew I had to have her, and hang the horses till another time.”

  Nate glanced at the lovely Ute, who was staring at her brother. “So you brought her here? As dangerous as it is?”

  “Where else could I take her?” Cain countered. “Besides, with her here the cave felt more like a home than a hole in the ground. And you know what? I wasn’t so worried about those barefoot fellas anymore. Havin’ her for company made me remember I’m a man.” He puffed up his chest. “I’d only leave her for short spells to go out and hunt down a deer or whatever. This last time Flying Hawk and his band found me. And now you know the whole story.”

  “Have your visitors returned?”

  “Not that I know of. Every mornin’ I take a look all around but I’ve not seen a single track. The way I figure it, they were happy with Simon and the pack animals and they won’t be back this way again for a long while.”

  “What if you’re wrong?”

  Cain grinned wickedly and tapped Nate’s chest with a pistol. “That’s why you’re here.”

  Six

  Nate didn’t like the sound of that one bit. “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “I refuse to be run off by a pack of murderin’ savages who don’t even have enough sense to wear something on their feet when they’re walkin’ on hot rock. I don’t know what tribe they belong to, but it doesn’t matter. I aim to mine a few more packs of gold before I leave here, and you’re goin’ to help me.”

  “Don’t count on it.”

  “Oh?” Cain said, and stepping up to Flying Hawk he touched the end of the flintlock barrel to the Ute’s forehead. “You’ll either help me or I’ll put a hole in your Injun friend.”

  The warrior, Nate noticed, had not batted an eye. Nate glanced at Smoky Woman, thinking she would protest, but she stood docilely, her features downcast.

  “I’ve got it all worked out,” Cain bragged, lowering the pistol. “If the ones who took Simon come back, we can hold ’em off easy. And with the two of us workin’, we can dig out all the ore I need in half the time it would take me by my lonesome. So I get out of here that much sooner.”