We were just getting into the car when a guy from the Post Office came running over with his eyes popping out of his head.
“Now, what’s the trouble?” I said, going halfway to meet him.
He gave me a telegram and stood back, watching my face with excited interest. I shoved a half a buck into his hand and returned to the car, opening the telegram as I walked.
It was from Juden. When I read what he had to say, I cursed softly under my breath. The other three watched me.
“This tears it,” I said, leaning into the car. “Revolution’s broken out in the hills and I’ve got to cover it.”
“What do you mean… revolution?” Ansell said, sharply.
“Another uprising,” I said in disgust. “Can’t these guys keep the peace for five minutes? A bunch of bandits swooped on some Federal troops and cut their heads off. Federal troops are on their way from the capital to deal with them. I’ve got to get over there and give a report on the battle. It may last a week.” “You can’t do that,” Ansell protested. “I’ve fixed everything with Quintl. If we don’t loose Myra on him now, we’ll never do it.”
I thought for a moment. He was right. But, on the other hand, I’d got to look after the Recorder. The great American public would want to hear more about these Federal soldiers who had had their heads cut off. You don’t read about a little thing like that every day.
“Well, I’m sorry,” I said. “But you’ll have to do this without me. It’s simple enough and I think I ought to be through in a few days. I’ll meet you at Pepoztlan. Get Myra to see this Quintl and then wait at the inn for me. Okay?”
Myra said, “So you’re going to walk out on me after all?”
“Now, don’t make it difficult,” I pleaded. “You’ll do fine. I know you will.” I put my hand on hers, “And wait for me, kid, I want to see you again.”
“If you ain’t in a hurry, I’ll get out and heave up,” Bogle said, grimacing in disgust. “This sloppy talk gives me a pain.”
That seemed to settle it. Myra, her face hardening, started the Cadillac. “Okay,” she said.
“Run after your stupid little revolution. Do you think I care?” and she drove away fast, leaving a cloud of dust behind her.
That was that.
As I might have expected, the Federal troops made a mess of it. When they got to the place where their comrades had been decapitated there was no sign of the bandits and no sign of any bodies. I wasted a couple of days riding around with them, and then they got sick of it and gave up. All I got out of it was a photograph of the place and a dreary report of the unsuccessful hunt. I sent those off, said good-bye to the Captain of the troop who seemed glad to see me go and rode over to Pepoztlan as fast as I could go.
Pepoztlan was a tiny village on the mountain side. The main road had been hewn out of the mountain itself and the few houses of pink stone overlooked the exposed plateau beyond which lay the Indian settlement.
I found Ansell and Bogle resting in the shade at the inn. It wasn’t much of a place, but the wine was good and they did manage to carve up an occasional chicken. I’d been there before, so I knew more or less what I was in for.
I arrived on Saturday afternoon. Since Myra was to see Quintl on the previous Thursday, I thought the whole thing had been settled. My next immediate job was to get in touch with Bastino and fix the kidnapping.
It came as a surprise when I rode into the patio to find only Ansell and Bogle there.
I slid off my horse, tossed the reins to an Indian and went over to them.
“Where’s Myra?” I asked and I admit I felt anxious.
Both Ansell and Bogle looked a little sheepish. It was Ansell who did the talking. “She’s still there,” he said. “Sit down and have a drink.”
“Yeah, this is real tiger’s breath,” Bogle said, filling a horn mug and shoving it into my hand.
“What do you mean… she’s still there?”
“She’s made a hit with Quintl,” Ansell said uneasily. “They wanted her to stay.”
I looked from one to the other, “I don’t get it. How long do you think she’s going to stay there?”
Bogle took off his hat and scratched his head, “Brother,” he said, “them Indians scared the pants off me. I didn’t want to argue with them.”
“Quiet, Bogle,” Ansell said sharply. “Let me explain.”
“You’d better,” I said, feeling mad. “What the hell’s been happening?”
“The truth is, she overdid it!’ Ansell said. “I warned her, but she kept pulling tricks and I guess the Indians fell for her. They think she’s a reincarnated goddess.”
“So what?”
“They won’t let her go,” Ansell said miserably. “We tried to get her away, but they got nasty about it.”
“Knives,” Bogle said, with a little shiver. “Great big knives as long as my arm. I tell you, Bud, they scared me.”
“So you left her, eh?” I said, feeling blood pounding in my ears. “That was a swell thing to do. What sort of men are you—you yellow-gutted monkeys!”
Ansell mopped his face with his handkerchief. “I was waiting for you to come and then I thought we’d turn out the Federal troops,” he explained.
“They’ll take a month to get going,” I said angrily. “I thought you knew this Indian. Why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t trust him?”
“It’s not that,” Ansell said quickly. “I’d trust him with my life. It was her fault. You ought to have seen the tricks she did. They were remarkable. I’ve never seen…”
I got to my feet. “We’re getting guns and we’re going right over there and we’ll bring her back. Do you get it?”
Bogle’s eyes popped. “Just the three of us?” he said faintly.
“Just the three of us,” I returned. “Get horses, while I get the guns.”
“You heard what I said about the knives?” Bogle said. “Great big stickers, as long as my arm.”
“I heard,” I returned. “We got this girl into the mess. We’ll get her out of it.”
I left them and dug out the innkeeper. “What have you got in the way of guns, pal?” I asked, after we had shaken hands and patted each other.
“Guns?” His little eyes widened, then seeing my look, he grinned. “More trouble, senor?” he said. “Always trouble with the white senor.”
“Slow up on the chatter and give me some action,” I said shoving him towards the house.
I got action and I got three express rifles and three .38 automatics.
By the time I got back the other two had found horses. I gave than a gun and automatic each and then climbed on to my horse.
“You wouldn’t like to put it off until to-morrow?” Ansell said hopefully. “It’s going to be hot on the plateau right now.”
“It’ll be hot all right,” I said and rode out of the patio. The way to the Indian settlement lay across the exposed plateau which was broken only by patches of forest. There was hardly any shade.
After an hour of heat and flies we came to the Indian village. The sordid settlement shocked me. There were six mud huts, thatched with banana leaves. They stood forlornly in the bright sunlight and the whole place seemed deserted.
I jerked my horse to a standstill and sat staring at the huts. Doc and Bogle came up and halted their animals by my side.
“Is this it?” I said. “Are you sure this is the place?”
“Yeah,” Bogle said, wrinkling his nose. “Not like Palm Beach, is it?” He rested his arms on the saddle and leaned forward. “Not the kind of glamour parlour Goldiocks is used to.”
“Button up!” I said, feeling furious with Ansell for even bringing Myra to such a dump, let alone leaving her here. If I’d gone with them, we wouldn’t have gone through with it.
Ansell slid off his horse and walked slowly down the beaten path between the huts. Neither
Bogle nor I moved. We sat, with our rifles forward, watching him.
“No one about,” Ansell said, coming b
ack. “Maybe they’re hunting or something.”
In spite of the heat, I suddenly felt my flesh creep, as if a cold hand had touched me.
“You’d better find her,” I said quietly.
“Quintl’s got a place further in the forest,” Ansell said, urging his horse forward.
We followed him.
At the edge of the forest, amid scrub and stones, stood a solid little building made of grey rock.
“This is it,” Ansell said, dismounting.
Bogle looked round. “This ain’t a country to live in,” he said uneasily. “There’s something about this dump I don’t like. Do you feel it, Bud?”
“Don’t be a damned baby,” I said sharply, although I, too, disliked the dank atmosphere of the settlement. I guess it was the complete tillness and the silence that gave me the jumps. Even the trees were motionless.
I dismounted and walked up to the rotten wooden door of the building and thumped on it with my clenched list. The heavy silence was broken only by the sound of my fist.
I stopped and listened. Sweat ran down my face with the exertion of beating on the door. Ansell and Bogle stood a few yards behind me, watching.
“There’s no one there,” I said, stepping back. “They’ve taken her away.”
“I can smell something like a dead horse,” Bogle said suddenly, and he began drawing great breaths of air through his nose.
Ansell said: “For God’s sake, keep quiet.” He joined me at the door. “There must be someone there,” he went on, pressing against the door. “There’s no lock. It’s bolted on the inside.”
I drew back and aimed a kick at the door. It shivered but held firm. I don’t know why it was, but I suddenly felt scared. I felt that something was going to happen over which I had no control, but in spite of this I was going to get into that hut.
I turned to Bogle, “Get off that damned horse and help me, you useless punk.”
Glad to have something to do, Bogle hurriedly dismounted and came over. He examined the door and then drawing back, he crashed his shoulder against it. The door creaked loudly and Bogle’s second charge shattered the bolt and the door crashed open.
A violent, nauseating smell seeped out of the hut. We staggered back before it.
“What is it?” I said, holding my hand over my mouth and nose.
“Someone’s been dead in there for quite a time,” Ansell said, his face going pale.
Bogle turned green, “I gotta weak stomach,” he wailed, sitting down abruptly on the grass.
“I can’t stand this. I’m going to heave.”
I glared round at Ansell. “She’s not dead, is she?” I said.
“Don’t get excited,” Ansell said, struggling with his own nausea. “You wait here. I’ll go in.” He drew a deep breath and peered timidly into the darkness. His eyes, dazzled by the bright sunlight, could see nothing.
I shoved him aside. “Get out of my way,” I said, and walked into the awful, stinking oven of darkness.
I stood just inside the room, breathing through my mouth, feeling the sweat running from me. At first, I couldn’t see anything, then as my eyes became accustomed to the gloom I made out a figure sitting on the floor, propped up against the wall. It was Quintl.
The old Indian was wrapped in a dirty blanket. His head was sunk low on his chest and his hands lay stiffly on the mud floor. I fumbled for a match and with a shaky hand, I scratched a light from the rock wall. Moving forward, I peered down at the Indian, holding the little flame high above my head.
The whole of Quintl’s face moved in putrefaction. Even the hair on his head seethed with putrefying life.
I started back, dropped the match and half blundered to the door. I had never seen such a disgusting, sickening sight and it seemed to draw my nerves into tight, writhing wires.
I stood gulping in the doorway, too sick even to speak. Ansell shook my arm. “What is it?” he said, his voice was high pitched. “What are you looking like that for?”
“It’s the Indian,” I said, trying to control my heaving fluttering stomach. “He’s dead. Don’t look at him. It’s the filthiest thing I’ve seen.” I looked back into the darkness, my heart pounding against my side. “Where’s Myra? There’s no one in there—just the old Indian.”
“There’s another room,” Ansell said, “Look, over to the right.”
I fumbled for another match, struck it and went into the room again. I didn’t look at the Indian. I could just see a dark opening at the far end of the room and I walked slowly towards it. Ansell followed me.
I paused at the doorway and peered in. The light from the match pierced the thick darkness for a few feet. I moved forward slowly and I stopped just by the door. The flame of the match flickered and went out.
I had a sudden feeling that this wasn’t real. It was like a nightmare of ghostly unknown things that pressed round me in the darkness. If I had been alone, I should have run away. I should have turned and stumbled into the bright sunlight and I would never have gone back into that ghastly, frightening darkness. But Ansell was behind me. I could feel his hand on my arm and somehow I felt I could stand there with him so close to me.
“Do you hear anything?” he whispered.
I listened. The silence was so complete that all I could hear was the pounding of my heart and the little hurried gasps from Ansell.
I fumbled for a match and the bright flame lit the mom for a moment, then it died down and the shadows closed in on me again.
In that moment of light I had seen a long starved shadow glide away from the light of the match. It was soundless, like a frightened spirit, and when the flame flickered and went out I was scared.
“There’s someone in here,” I said. “Doc, where are you?”
“Take it easy,” Ansell said, again touching my arm. “I’m right behind you. Who was it?”
“I don’t know.” I found my hands were shaking so violently that I couldn’t strike another match. I pressed the box into Ansell’s fingers. “Get a light. There’s someone or something in here.”
“An animal?” Ansell whispered, his voice quavered.
“I don’t know,” I said between my teeth and drew the .38. The match flared up. For a brief second, we again had a clear view of the room. Myra lay on a stretcher bed. Her eyes were closed and she was quite still. Something black and shapeless moved above her head, but as I stepped forward, it dissolved into dancing shadows made by the light of the match.
“Hold it higher,” I said.
I could see now. There was no one else in the room except ourselves and Myra.
I shall never forget that brief glimpse I had of her. In the white, sparkling dress, her hair draped over her shoulders, and her cold, bard little face uptilted towards the roof of the rock building, she looked like a beautiful Greek goddess.
But, right now, I hadn’t eyes for that. Fear had seized me and dug into my brain with chilly, steel fingers.
“There was someone in here,” I said, gripping Ansell’s arm. “I know there was. Where did he go? Doc, hold that match up. He must be somewhere here.”
Ansell paid no attention. He bent over Myra. “She’s all right,” he said in a dazed voice.
“She’s asleep! Asleep in this stink.” He shook her gently, but she did not open her eyes.
“Wake up!” he said, shaking her more roughly. “Wake up!”
I blundered over and pushed him away. Feverishly, I pulled Myra into a sitting position. Putting my arm under her knees, I swung her off the bed.
As I did so, something happened that I can never forget. Even now, I sit up in bed sometimes in a cold sweat when I dream about it. It had all the qualities of a bad nightmare.
As I pulled Myra off the bed, I felt something trying to get her away from me. It was as if Myra had become suddenly heavy and I couldn’t quite hold her any more. It was as if two long arms were holding my legs so that it was difficult to walk.
But, I struggled on somehow and yelling to Bogle to get
the horses, I came reeling out into the sunshine holding Myra tightly against me.
Bogle had scrambled to his feet. His eyes, like poached eggs, showed his panic “What’s the matter?” he croaked.
Ansell shot out of the hut, white to the lips. He came running over to me and when he could get his breath he stammered: “Let me look at her.”
“You leave her alone,” I said. “You’ve done enough already. Here, Bogle, hold her while I mount.” I climbed up on to my horse and Bogle hoisted Myra on to the saddle.
“What’s the matter with her?” Bogle said. There was a note of anxiety in his voice.
“I don’t know,” I said, wheeling away from him. “Let’s get out of here. If I have any more of this stink, I’ll go crazy.”
Kicking my horse into a canter, I rode out across the broad plateau. Ansell and Bogle followed closely behind me.
Once clear of the Indian village, I pulled up in the last of the shade before crossing the plateau. I slid to the ground, supporting Myra and made her as comfortable as I could under a tree.
“Take a look at her, Doc,” I said uneasily, holding her warm hand in mine.
Ansell came and knelt beside me, while Bogle gathered the bridles of our horses and stood uneasily, shifting from one foot to the other.
“What’s the matter with her?” I asked. “Do something, will you?”
Ansell took her pulse, raised her eyelid and sat back on his heels. “She’s in some kind of trance,” he said slowly. “We’ll have to get her to bed as quickly as we can. There’s nothing I can do here.” He looked at her again and scratched his chin. “She’s quite normal. Pulse good, breathing regular.” He shook his head. “We’ll have to go on. The risk of sunstroke’s too great out here.”
“What’s been happening?” I said. “Why is she like this? What’s the explanation?”
Ansell stood up. “I don’t know. It’s no use talking now. We’ve got to get her back to the inn.”
I picked her up again. “Do you think she’ll stand the journey?”
“Don’t worry, man. I tell you there’s nothing the matter with her. She’s in a hypnotic trance. She’ll wake up in a few hours.”
I looked at him searchingly, saw the worried look in his eyes and I felt a chill of despair. “I hope you’re right,” I said and gave her to him to hold while I mounted.
Miss Shumway Waves a Wand Page 7