“You want me to tell the others this? They won’t believe me.”
Oh my God, did I say that? As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wished I could grab them and pull them back.
“You’re correct. They won’t believe the truth. So you must tell them a lie.”
“A lie? What lie?”
“That you met the leader of the Cult of the Jaguar and he told you that the disk was moved after we discovered that the prospector had obtained the location.”
“I’m confused. You told me that long ago the disk was taken from Teo and put somewhere no one living knows. Now you want me to say that it was actually here and you moved it after you found out the location, this place, was compromised?”
“As you said, no one will believe we don’t have the disk, so they will keep looking. And if not these men, then the next seekers, and sooner or later, one of them will find these caverns. When they do, they will discover the true treasures hidden by my forefathers—codices that are irreplaceable works of arts and literature, murals so well preserved that they are as beautiful as at the moment the artist finished them.
“These are the treasures my ancestors hid and that I am sworn to protect with my life. Those with lust for treasures will take these artifacts when they discover there is no disk of gold, and they will sell them to the highest bidder in New York, London, or Berlin.”
I understand his concern. But some sense of justice in me will not let a hole in his theory be passed over.
“I want to help. I sincerely do. You should keep the historical pieces of your history safe until they can be displayed for everyone, but I just don’t see how those people out there will believe me. They already think that I am imagining things. Don’t you see,” I pled, “I don’t have any proof. They just aren’t going to buy the story.”
“Once again, you are correct. So I am sending you back with proof that you have met with the Cult of the Jaguar. This will go with you.”
A round bundle comes flying out of the darkness. It hits the cavern floor and rolls up to my leg. In the dim light, it appears to be a bundle of cloth.
“What the…” I stare down at the bundle, wondering how a bundle of cloth is going to convince people I have met with the leader of the cult.
I lean down to get a closer look at the bundle.
Oh … my … God!
60
“Well, I think it gets across the point nicely.”
That is from Gertrude.
We are in the dining tent, all of us who were drawn one way or another to the City of the Gods by the legend of its golden treasure. Besides Gertrude and me, Roger, Traven, Thompson, Maddox, Sundance, Gebhard, and Lily are here. Maddox’s cowboys are outside somewhere, probably still fraternizing with the señoritas at the makeshift cantina.
Oh, and the guest of honor: Howard, the prospector. At least at the pile of skin that was left of the man. Before I began my explanation, I put the bundle that had been thrown to me in the caverns on the table, then opened it.
He had been nicely folded, so his startled face was up. The sad, pale face, flattened as if it had been a balloon that the air was let out of, is not one that would be recognized by his mother, but I don’t think anyone present doubts that it is his. The bushy hair, beard, and eyebrows are recognizable features that would be hard to duplicate.
“Howard left the train, came here, and ran afoul of the cult, which have taken on the task of protecting Aztec artifacts,” I tell them, deliberately avoiding the word treasure, at least for the moment. “It got him skinned. Some sort of ritual for those who offend the Aztec gods.”
“Xipe,” Traven says. “The flay god. Aztecs worshiped him as a god of life, death, and rebirth. Priests flayed the skin whole from people and wore it as a symbol of rebirth.”
“That double-crossing, two-timing bastard will be reborn in hell,” Maddox says.
Hopefully, Maddox will meet him there one day … soon. Running an outlaw gang isn’t going to be ticket through the pearly gates.
Traven’s explanation helps me catch my breath. I am so mentally drained and numb that I was able to flop Howard down and open the bundle without fainting or vomiting—I didn’t have the strength to get nauseated.
Howard went on the table, faceup, for the exact reason that Gertrude had guessed: He gets the point across nicely. Now I had to drive it home.
No one seems to have much to say. More likely, they don’t know what to say. Me, either. I’d been blindfolded again while in the caverns and taken on a circuitous route before being released about half a mile north of the Pyramid of the Moon.
The first person I saw was Roger, who had a genuine expression of relief when he saw me. I led Roger, Gertrude, and the others who had been out looking for me down the Avenue of the Dead, refusing to answers questions or tell them what was in the bundle I was lugging from a piece of rope tied around it until I had had a glass of water and the undivided attention of everyone.
After I had Howard on the table and we got past the gasps, mutterings, and quite a bit of profanity that was new to me, I told them the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth—except for the part the cult leader had told me to lie about.
No one said much as I laid out the fact that the disk had been moved from Teo to a secret place far away. Not that I had their undivided attention. I’m not certain which of them really listened. For sure, the ones who had come here to find the treasure didn’t hear what they most wanted—some clue from me as to where it is.
I looked around as I told them what I had been through and learned, hoping that I’d get some clue as to who lusted the most for the treasure and may have been capable of murder to find it, but mostly they just stood quietly and stared at Howard, as if he had the answers.
I finished talking and there was an awkward silence, the kind you get when you tell a joke that falls flat. That’s when Gertrude piped up about Howard getting the point across.
It certainly does make the situation clear, at least to me. If they had the time to catch and skin Howard before the pack of us even arrived, then it’s obvious that the protectors of the sun god’s gold disk knew treasure seekers were coming and would have had both the time and inclination to move the disk to a safe place. And they could do it faster than their ancestors did because it could be loaded on a wagon.
But logic and reason doesn’t count for much when you trample someone’s dream of getting rich fast.
“That’s all I know,” I tell them. “The treasure’s been moved somewhere else and you all might as well go back to whatever you were doing before you got involved in this wild-goose chase.”
“Bullshit!” Thompson snaps.
I give him a polite smile. I’m calm and even a bit at peace. I think all my energy to do anything more than just keep my eyes open and breathe has been burned up.
“And which part of the situation do you find analogous to cow droppings, Mr. Thompson?”
“All of it!” He slams his fist on the table.
I’m sure he would have been delighted if my face had been there.
“Don’t blame her for the message,” Roger says.
“It’s all a bunch of crap,” Thompson says to me. “You’re in cahoots with others seeking the treasure.”
“Why don’t you point out whom I’m scheming with? Sundance? Mr. Gebhard? Lily, did you come to Mexico to steal Aztec treasures? I guess Mr. Thompson suspects you of helping me skin poor Howard.”
“Ridiculous,” Gebhard says.
Poor Lily just stares with wide eyes filled with horror that comes from her heart, not her acting ability. I will have to apologize to her later. It’s just that I am trying to get a point across to Thompson. But I don’t think it’s working.
“None of you are foolin’ me.” Thompson is boiling over, ready to blow his stack.
Maddox’s hand stays close to his gun as Thompson continues ranting.
“There’s gotta be a hidden door out there leading to the gold. I
learned tracking from a Comanche chief. I’m going out to the ruins and follow your tracks back to where you were taken to.” He jerks his head at Sundance. “Let’s go, cowboy.”
As Sundance follows Thompson, Maddox says, “Sundance, you’re with us. You, too, Thompson.”
Sundance shrugs and leaves with Thompson.
I could have told his boss that Sundance is with Thompson. It was Sundance who was supposed to have seen Howard killed and thrown from the train. And Thompson was playing the were-jaguar who threw him off.
Maddox suddenly seems like he has ants in his pants. “I’m not letting them get away with the treasure,” he tells Gebhard. “I’m getting my boys and cutting ourselves in. Maybe for all of it.”
Gebhard shakes his head. “You’re on your own. Lily and I are leaving.”
To my surprise, Roger follows Maddox and the others out, avoiding looking at me as he goes.
Gertrude and I are suddenly alone with Howard.
“Do you think they’ll find the tracks?” she asks.
“I don’t know. I have no idea where they took me except that it was underground. It may have even been beyond the ruins. And I’m positive they covered their tracks, assuming the ground was soft enough to even leave tracks. I guess in a sense, the members of the cult have been covering their tracks for hundreds of years, so they must be good at it.”
“It’s barbaric what the cult did to Don Antonio,” she says. “If it’s true that he permitted Aztec art objects to be taken out of the country, he should have been prosecuted, but not murdered. At least with the prospector, they told you he had tortured one of their people. It’s like the Bible says, live by the sword, die by the sword. Are we supposed to, uh, bury … it?”
“I think we’d better leave that for the Mexican police, constable, or whoever is coming. If anyone has actually sent for them.”
“I don’t quite get how the cast of characters in this treasure hunt line up. They don’t seem to all be on the same side.”
“I’m sure Thompson, Sundance, and Howard double-crossed the others and faked Howard’s death to get the treasure for themselves. Why Thompson came up with a reason to throw doubt on the fact I had seen the were-jaguar stumped me, but then I realized it was because I had pretty much described the were-jaguar I saw on the train as someone wearing a mask.
“That would have caused suspicion among Maddox and the others. Sundance wouldn’t have mentioned the mask if he had been the sole witness. Instead, he would have claimed that the prospector was attacked by what appeared to be a were-jaguar—not something with a simple mask, but made up like the person I saw after arguing with Traven over the donkey.
“With the plan devised by Thompson, Sundance, and Howard to cut out the rest of the conspirators going down the drain, Thompson and Sundance protected themselves by claiming Howard had jumped ship to cut everyone else out of the treasure. And they came up with a reason for the jaguar mask I saw, not so much to discredit me, but so Don Antonio would believe Howard had jumped ship by himself.”
Gertrude shakes her head. “Greed has no limits, does it? A man like Thompson and the cowboys who aren’t rich hunger for wealth. Don Antonio had plenty but wanted more. Gebhard, who has great wealth, wants to have something no one else has. Rich or poor, each of them will do anything to get what he lusts for.”
“I’m—I’m shocked Roger is part of it.”
She gives me a look of sympathy. “I saw your face when Roger followed the others out.”
I sigh. It’s not a subject I want to talk about. And I’m very tired, worn to the bone, and my brains have turned into scrambled eggs.
“Why don’t you take a nap while I get the carriage and our things ready to go,” she says. “I have to find the coachmen. Last time I saw them, they were talking to women at the indio village.”
We part outside the tent, Gertrude to find the coachmen, and I to wander wearily to the tent.
As I enter the dark tent, I’m grabbed from behind and a hand grips my throat.
61
“Scream and I’ll kill you.”
Thompson is behind me, his hand a steel vise gripping my throat. I try to pull his hand off my throat, but he is so much bigger and more powerful, I’m like a child in his grasp.
He tightens his grip and jerks me up off my feet. Strength I didn’t think I had left erupts in me as I panic and struggle, kicking and twisting as my windpipe closes and I can’t get air into my lungs.
“Hold still.”
He lets up on the pressure but still has a hold on me as I take in a gasp of air.
“Listen to me—I’m going to let you go.”
His mouth is next to my ear and I can feel his hot breath.
“You make a sound and I’ll break your neck.”
He removes his hand from my throat and grabs me by the shoulders, turning me to face him.
“Tell me where the treasure’s at and I won’t hurt you.”
He grabs my throat again and lifts me up on tiptoe.
“Lie to me and you’re dead meat. You understand, bitch?”
The only understanding I can convey is a gurgle, which I hope he understands is my agreement to his terms.
He slowly relaxes his grip on my neck and I cough and gasp as I take in air, my chest heaving. I push his hand away from me as I try to get my breathing under control.
“I know you lied back there. You’ve made a deal with the indios, haven’t you? A deal for you to get something.”
My agreement is what he wants to hear and nothing short of that will keep him from wringing my neck again, so I give it, gurgling out a yes as best I can and nodding my head.
“What did they give you? The gold disk?”
Trick question. I can see it in his eyes. He knows they would never give me the sun god’s treasure. I vigorously shake my head.
“But they gave you something, didn’t they?”
More nodding of my head as I jerk it up and down like a pump handle.
“Tell me,” he says, his voice so excited, he sounds hoarse. “We’ll take it and get the rest of the treasure, and I’ll split it all with you.”
I try to speak and touch my throat, shaking my head. I gesture for him to come closer so he can hear me. He leans down and I do what comes naturally to me, a move taught to me by my brothers to use after I got the worst of it at school when I tangled with a bully.
“At the side of the pyramid.” I speak so hoarsely and softly that I’m sure he can’t make out my words.
“What’d you say?”
He bends down even closer to hear, and I go up on my toes and butt him in the nose with my head.
He takes a step backward and I slip around him as he grabs at me. I go through the tent opening, more in a dive than a run, and go down, hitting the ground facedown.
I scream, but it comes out as a hoarse yelp.
He flies out behind me and grabs my left foot to drag me back inside. I kick at him with my other foot and pull out of his grip.
Getting on my hands and knees, I start to crawl, but he grabs me by the back of my head.
“Let her go!”
It’s Roger. He comes running up and flies at Thompson, slamming into him, knocking the man back, both of them hitting the ground.
Roger rolls over and is up on his feet first. I scramble away in a crawl as he goes at Thompson, who is trying to get up. He swings at Thompson and connects, hitting him in the side of the face. The man falls back again, going down as he avoids another punch from Roger.
As Thompson hits the ground, he draws his six-shooter and brings it up, sending off a shot.
Roger spins around and staggers backward, losing his balance and dropping to one knee.
Thompson turns to me, taking aim, when I hear Sundance shout, “Thompson!”
Thompson looks to the cowboy, who is fifty feet away. He raises his gun and gets off a shot.
Sundance’s movements are a blur as his gun comes out of its holster and a shot is fired.
Thompson grunts and falls back for a second, but he comes back around, raising his gun as Sundance fires again.
The bullet strikes Thompson and the man is slammed back, his gun flying out of his hand. He lets out a gurgling gasp and then lies still.
Roger is suddenly hovering over me.
“Damn.” Roger shakes his head. “I forgot I have a gun.”
62
Sundance gives me a sour grin.
We’re standing by the rain barrel, where I’ve dipped a handkerchief Gertrude gave me to take some of the raw burn from my bruised throat.
She and Roger had backed off after workers carried Thompson’s body into his tent, giving me a chance to thank Sundance in private.
He’s taken off his hat and is shuffling it through his fingers nervously as he talks. Tough guy that he is, he’s more comfortable with other men and guns than he is with a woman.
“Things just would never work out between us,” he says. “Sure would have been nice to have met you in another time, maybe in that other life when I lived in Pennsylvania and still stood in good favor with John Law.”
How he had fallen from the grace of the law is not a concern for me except that his being an outlaw, which he has admitted to me that he is, makes me worry that he will someday get his neck stretched by a posse’s rope.
He set a path for himself when he left small-town Pennsylvania, and for whatever reason, he has made it a crooked one.
“I’m heading back with the boys,” he says.
He hasn’t volunteered that he and Thompson schemed with Howard, the prospector, to get the treasure for themselves, but I’m certain that was the case. At this point, I’m just grateful he has decided to take my side instead of Thompson’s.
And I’m grateful for the fact he has not questioned me about the treasure. How successful I would have been lying to him with a straight face after he saved Roger and me is doubtful.
I give him a kiss on the cheek. I cried earlier when I thanked him for saving our lives. Roger thanked him, too, looking a bit sheepish when Sundance told him he shouldn’t pack a gun if he’s not going to use it.
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