by Neil Hunter
Shelby put the butt of his rifle on the ground and leaned his weight on the weapon. ‘You know ’em well?’
‘Well as any white man gets to know the Apache. I’ve had dealings with them too many times.’
‘And always come out?’
Cord smiled coldly. ‘Up to now.’
‘You figure we might not come through this?’
‘I’ll let you know in time,’ Cord told him, and moved on by. He stopped suddenly, turning. ‘Shelby. It might be a good idea to have a count of what ammunition we’ve got left.’
Ben Shelby nodded. ‘Will do.’ It was something he’d had on his own mind for a while—it was an important point. It didn’t matter how good their defensive position was if they had nothing to defend it with.
Reaching the wall Cord settled himself and scanned the terrain that lay beyond. He could see the distant shapes of the resting Apaches. Smoke rose from cooking fires. He swore softly. The Apaches were settled for a long stay. He could feel it in his bones. The game was going to drag on for a long time. Unless something could be done to alter the circumstances. But what? The matter required a deal of thinking. He had no ideas yet but his active mind was already pursuing probable solutions.
There was no chance of breaking through the Apache lines. Even if they did there was no chance of out-running the swift, tireless Apache ponies, or the Apaches, who knew this land better than anyone.
They had limited food, water, and ammunition. Once that was used up the end would come quickly. If the Apaches ran short of anything they could replenish their supplies. It was a hell of a one-sided confrontation, Cord decided, and he wondered if Murdoch realized the kind of deal he’d thrown his new recruit into. He doubted that Murdoch would do any worrying at all. Hard as a rock and cold as a dead-fish, that was Murdoch. Matthew Cord knew his fellow-man well and he’d figured Murdoch out during the brief meeting he’d had with the man back in Yuma. Murdoch had a job to do, a dirty, backstabbing job, and he’d do it any way he could, using his people to the utmost, and like he’d said—don’t expect me to wipe off the dirt. Not that Matthew Cord wanted or needed any man’s help. He got into and out of the fires of his own making by his own efforts, and somehow he’d get out of this one, even if it did mean sprouting wings and flying, as he’d said to Kate.
The phrase stuck in his mind and refused to go. Cord realized what it was he was considering and he knew it was crazy. But sometimes it was the impossible that saved the day. He twisted about, keeping his head below the level of the adobe wall, and ran his eyes up the cliff that backed the mission. The first time he’d set his eyes on it he’d considered it unclimbable. But that had been during a heated moment when he’d had other things on his mind. Looking at that cliff now, from a closer position, his original estimation softened. It was not unclimbable. It wouldn’t be any picnic. In fact it would be hell. What with gear to carry, weapons, Apaches intent on killing them, and a bunch of women along, it was going to be more than hell. The more Cord thought about it the more he was sure it was impossible. But it was the only way out that was left open to them. And what had they got to lose? Staying down here they might hold out for a few miserable days but there was only one way it could end. The Apaches would eventually overrun them, kill them all, and take the women.
So just what alternative did they have?
Cord scanned the face of the cliff. The surface was pitted and fissured, with ledges and overhangs. True, it was sheer but as long as they had something to hang onto that could be overcome. It would take time. The climb would be slow—Cord was thinking mainly of the women. It wasn’t going to be easy for them. But he didn’t think they’d object to giving it a try. For them it was definitely more preferable than falling into the hands of the waiting Apaches.
The more he thought about it, the more Cord realized that he’d come up with the one—the only—possible chance they might have for getting out of this trap they were in.
All he had to do now was to convince the others.
And that could prove just as difficult as the escape itself.
He sat out the rest of his watch, feeling the heat of the new day envelop him. The sun had curved up into the pale, cloudless sky. The air was already dry, holding a taste of the dust that had been stirred up by a faint breeze.
And still the Apaches sat and watched and waited. They were in no hurry. Cord watched them and decided that they were not considering an attack at the present time. In fact they were all seated around one of their fires, apparently making the most out of their first meal of the day.
Cord heard a sound behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Kate bringing him his own breakfast. She put a mug of black coffee down beside him and handed him a plate of beans and salt-bacon. Cord put down his rifle, picked up the fork on the side of the plate and began to eat. He kept his eyes on the Apaches while he ate.
‘Got us a way out,’ he said brusquely.
‘Wings?’ Kate suggested.
Cord grinned. ‘In a way. Hear me out, Kate. In back of us is a cliff, damned high one, I’m not disputing that. But I figure we could climb it. Won’t be easy, Kate, in fact it’ll be hell. But it’s just about the only chance we’ve got. We’re not going to fight our way out of this down here. Given time those Apaches will finish us. No two ways about that. If I’ve got to die I’d rather do it making a fighting try at staying alive.’
‘Have you told the others?’
‘No. Only come to me since I been out here.’
Kate turned to look at the cliff. Then back at Cord. ‘I suppose it could be done.’ She fell silent for a moment. ‘What about the horses?’
‘We leave ’em. Unless you want to drag ’em up that cliff behind you.’
‘So if we do get to the top of that pile of rock we’ll have to do some walking?’
Cord shrugged. ‘If you can walk it means you’re still alive,’ he said.
‘That’s a pretty good argument. Cord, when do we go?’
Cord picked up his coffee. He noticed that the light breeze that had come with the dawn had now risen. He had the feeling that a storm might be brewing. Out here a windstorm usually brought in blinding clouds of dust. If a storm did blow up it would give them the cover they required. All they needed was a screen that would hide them from the keen eyes of the Apaches. Trouble was, Cord knew, a storm would work for the Apaches too, giving them the chance to get in close. It would be a case of who moved first and who moved the quickest. But they couldn’t expect to have it all their own way.
By the time the others started to move around the wind was really driving in off the hills. Every now and then a gust would stir up a cloud of dust, pushing it across the open ground like a thin curtain.
Shelby and Morgan LeGrand came out and joined Cord at the wall. For a moment none of them spoke. LeGrand watched the Apaches, a dark scowl on his face. He spat suddenly as the rising wind slapped dust into his face.
‘Looks like we’re goin’ to have a damn storm now,’ he said. ‘As if we ain’t got enough trouble.’
‘Storm could help us get out of here,’ Cord said, using LeGrand’s remark as an opening. He explained his plan, in detail, making both men aware that there were no easy solutions to their problem.
Shelby and LeGrand listened in silence. When Cord had finished the silence continued awhile longer until Morgan LeGrand tipped his hat to the back of his head, turned his cold eyes on Matthew Cord, and said, ‘Time comes, Ben, I aim to have my settlin’ with this hombre. Now we ain’t going to fight our way out of this face to face with them Apaches. It don’t set right with me to run from a fight, only sometimes there just ain’t no other choice and crazy as it sounds, Cord’s way could do it for us.’
Ben Shelby grunted in annoyance. ‘Hate to say it, Cord, but I agree.’ He turned and stared up at the high cliff. ‘Jesus Christ, it’s goin’ to be one hell of a climb.’
LeGrand brought the others outside and Cord explained the plan to them. There were no arguments from the wome
n. It was Eli Colton who raised the objection.
‘Goddam crazy! What the hell you think we are, Cord? You took a good look at that cliff?’ He held up his filthy hands. ‘You see any claws? Hell, man, that stretch you did in Yuma must’ve fried your brains.’
‘You finished, Eli?’ Ben Shelby asked.
‘No. ’Cept to say I ain’t climbin’ no cliff on Cord’s say-so.’
‘What about my say-so?’
Colton stared at Shelby, his eyes wild. ‘You tellin’ me you agree with this bastard?’
Shelby nodded. ‘So does Morgan.’
‘You’re both crazy,’ Colton yelled, whirling to face LeGrand.
Morgan LeGrand smiled coldly. ‘Crazy to stay alive, Eli. Yeah.’
Eli Colton stamped to the wall and eyed the distant Apaches. The wind was decidedly stronger now and a constant fog of dust drifted across the flatland beyond the mission.
‘Christ, Ben, we’ve taken on bigger odds than those Apaches before and ridden clear.’ Colton’s voice bore an edge of fear. He wasn’t sure just which scared him more—the Apaches or the thought of trying to scale the high cliff. ‘Ben.’ Now it was an appeal.
‘We figure our best chance is the cliff, Eli. We ain’t got enough ammunition for more than a couple of charges. After that those Apaches can just walk in and finish us, without even raising a sweat.’
Colton glanced at the other two members of the Shelby bunch. Both Isha Cooley and Irve Dunker agreed with Ben Shelby. The idea of climbing the cliff didn’t sit too easily with them either but they had sense enough to see there was no future in staying down here and trying to stand off the Apaches.
Eli Colton realized he had nobody to side with him. He slumped down with his back to the wall, his rifle between his knees. He stared up at the soaring heights of the cliff. ‘Ah shit,’ he said. ‘We won’t make it. Those Apaches will just sit on their asses and shoot us off that cliff and take their time doin’ it.’
‘If this storm keeps building up there’ll be so much dust flying about they won’t be able to see us,’ Cord said.
‘Hah!’ Eli Colton thrust to his feet. ‘And we ain’t goin’ to be able to see the goddam cliff. You thought of that, Mister Cord? Be bad enough tryin’ to climb in clear daylight. How the hell do you expect us to climb it in a dust-storm?’
‘Nobody’s expecting it to be easy.’ Cord beckoned to Kate. To Colton he said: ‘You make your own choice. Stay here or come with the rest of us. Now I don’t give a damn which you do.’
‘Cord, it’s not going to be easy climbing that cliff wearing a dress,’ Kate said.
‘I figure if we go through all the saddlebags we ought to be able to rustle up enough pairs of shirts and pants for the three of you,’ he replied. ‘Might not be the height of fashion but it’ll be a damn sight easier on you.’
‘What else have you in mind?’ she asked.
‘Sort out all the food. Cook whatever you can. From now on we’re not going to have much time for making camp and cooking dinner. Gather all the canteens and top up a few. Makes less to carry.’
Then the group broke up. Everyone had something to do. Every weapon they had was fully loaded, the remaining ammunition divided amongst the various individuals. Personal belongings were discarded as the horses were unsaddled. There would be no extra weight carried. They had a long and dangerous climb ahead of them and they would need everything in their favor.
Matthew Cord stayed at the wall, watching the Apaches. Still they sat by their fires, making no attempt to rouse themselves for an attack. But he knew that they would be watching the impending storm as closely as he was. They would wait for a particular time, a moment when the wind was at its strongest, when the swirling clouds of dust were thickest. Then they would come. Unseen shadows flitting through the mist, closing in on the mission. There would be no warning, no sound, no sight—but suddenly they would be there, bringing death with them. Cord hoped that when that time did come the Apaches would find the mission deserted.
Twelve
By mid-morning the storm hit them full force and without warning. The wind that had been gradually increasing in intensity seemed to increase tenfold. It drove down off the hills, howling wildly, and it brought with it the dust that Matthew Cord had been expecting. He watched the rolling cloud of yellowish mist as it started across the flatland and in the seconds before they were hidden from his view he saw the Apaches start to move away from their fires. He’d been right there. The Apaches had been waiting, as he had, for this moment. When the storm had built up to a peak—then it was the right time for them to move in.
Beside Cord was Ben Shelby. The outlaw’s eyes narrowed as he saw what was happening. ‘We’d better move, Cord,’ he said. ‘Those damn Indians will be all over this place in awhile.’
Cord nodded. They moved away from the wall and rejoined the rest. They were all ready. The women stood in an awkward bunch, inelegant in the assortment of men’s clothing they’d been provided with: pants that were far too big, shirts that were not designed for the female shape, but at least their movements would not be restricted during the climb ahead. Food and water was divided evenly, giving everyone an easy load to carry. Rifles were slung over shoulders, hung there by slings cut from rope.
Earlier Cord had spent time at the foot of the cliff, choosing the route that might afford them the easiest climb. It was still going to be an ordeal.
‘Let’s go.’ He stood aside and watched Ben Shelby take the first steps of the climb. He was followed by Madge Brenner. Next was Morgan LeGrand. He moved quickly up the cliff, despite his size. Cord stepped in and helped the next of the hostages to start her climb. Her name was Jenny Lafan, a slender, frightened girl. She turned to look at him, her dark eyes huge and staring in her pale face.
‘I’ll never do it,’ she said. She was trembling visibly.
‘Yes you will, Jenny,’ Kate said, coming to stand beside Cord. ‘Just climb and keep climbing. Ignore whatever goes on down here. Just think of reaching the top.’
Jenny glanced up the high cliff, shuddering. ‘It’s so high,’ she said softly.
‘Come on,’ Cord said, and took her arm, helping her up the first few feet. For a moment he thought she was going to freeze, maybe even panic. But then she seemed to gather herself and started to climb, clumsily, unsure of her every move, but at least she climbed.
Ben Shelby’s three remaining men were next. Cooley and Dunker began the climb without comment. As before it was Eli Colton who caused a momentary problem. He seemed reluctant to go. Cord, fed up with the man’s earlier objections, gave him a shove towards the cliff.
‘Either climb that cliff or get the hell out of the way,’ he told the outlaw.
‘I still think it’s crazy,’ Colton protested.
‘Then stay down here and fight the Apaches,’ Kate snapped coldly. ‘Mister, for a so-called tough outlaw, you are one big pain in the neck!’
Colton spun round, his face hardening. He took a quick step towards Kate and it looked as if he was about to hit her. But Cord stepped in front of him.
‘Try me, Colton,’ he said. ‘See if you can do better than your brother.’
Eli Colton’s face flushed with heat. For a few seconds he braced Cord, then turned on his heel and started up the cliff.
‘Get going, Kate,’ Cord told her, turning away from ‘ the cliff.
She caught his arm. ‘Hey. Where do you think you’re going?’
‘Just making a final check on our friends out there.’
Jerking at his shirt Kate held him back. ‘To hell with them, Cord. I don’t take one step from here unless you’re right behind me. Let’s get out of here while we’re able. You’re no good to anyone dead and we need you!’
He spun her towards the cliff and followed her. She was probably right. He knew the Apaches would be either moving in on the mission or preparing to do so. He didn’t really need positive proof—which might come in the form of a bullet.
Kate was only
a few yards above him and as they began their long climb he realized how painfully slow their progress was going to be. Only now did it come to him that the climb would not take place in silence. Above him he could hear the scrap of boots on rock, the odd grumbling voice, the patter of loosened stones cascading down the cliff. It was not going to take the Apaches very long to figure out where their vanished opponents had gone. Glancing down he saw that the driven dust was already closing in around the base of the cliff. Soon it would be drifting up towards them, caught by the strong fingers of the wind that buffeted them constantly. That wasn’t going to make things any easier.
He heard Kate gasp suddenly. A shower of crumbling rock rained down on him. Cord lifted his head and saw her slithering down the cliff towards him. Cord braced himself, thrusting his boots tight into the rock-fissures, closed the fingers of his left hand around a jutting knob of rock, and hoped that he could stay there. And then her falling body was on him, a fast-moving blur, arms and legs flailing wildly as she tried to regain a hold. Cord made a wild grab for her, and for a heart-stopping moment he was certain he’d missed. But then his arm coiled around her waist. Cord drew her in close to him, feeling her weight dragging him away from the face of the cliff. He put all he had into holding onto Kate and to keeping from being torn free. His muscles screamed in protest against the overstrain, sweat popping out on his face. Just as swiftly it ended. Kate’s downward movement ceased. Her clawing fingers found a fresh hold on the rock and she eased her weight off Cord’s painfully aching arm.
They rested. Kate turned her head and stared into Cord’s eyes. ‘You have a habit of turning up just when I need you,’ she said.
‘Yeah. Well next time let’s keep it a little less strenuous.’
Kate looked below them, into the dust billowing up from the base of the cliff. She felt the wind tugging at her, relentless fingers that threatened to tear her from Cord’s embrace. A shudder ran through her. She glanced at him and tried to understand what it was that attracted her to him. True, he could be called good-looking—not handsome—but he had a rugged appeal in that angry brown face. She suddenly saw how silly she was being. Of all the times to start thinking such thoughts. Halfway up the face of a dangerous cliff, with a bunch of savage Apaches below and an outlaw band above them. She must be crazy.