Spirit Valley (Ben Blue Book 7)

by Lou Bradshaw

  I knew where we were going and how to get there. I wouldn’t use the long route that had led me there the first time. Instead, we’d go by the more direct route. The first time, I had been following the horse thieves, who had avoided coming close to the house on their way out of the valley. So they went up a sheep trail and over a high ridge. We used the gate and cut off nearly a day’s travel.

  We camped the first night, just outside of what I called Little Butte Canyon. It was full of what looked like miniature buttes or islands made of stone. Beyond the buttes lay the crack. The crack was the only way in or out of that haunted valley or the Valley of the Spirits.

  We made a cold camp, and over a main course of beef jerky and dried apples for dessert I told Angel what to expect when we went in. “First, you’re gonna see some strange rock formations in the main canyon. They will be enough to put you on edge, but when we come to the crack…”

  “The crack?” he asked.

  “Yes… that’s the best way I can describe it. It’s like the shoulder of a mountain split and broke away from its base. The walls are sheer and it would take a mountain goat to get in or out. A man on foot would have to be a damned good climber and have plenty of rope to get out… if then. But I suppose it’s possible.”

  “To get in there, we’ll have to go through that crack. It’ll be just about wide enough for a man on a horse to get through, but some places there won’t be much more than that. Once started, we’ll be pretty much committed… it would be hard to turn around except in a few spots… If you look into the crack and decide you can’t do it, I’ll understand.”

  “Once we’re in there, it gets even spookier… beautiful… but spooky. You may see or hear things that you’ll swear can’t be real. I’ve seen them and I still don’t believe them. But the only real danger we’ll face will come from the men we’re following… if they’re there.”

  He sat in the dark, chewing on jerky and sipping from his canteen, for a long half minute and then said, “I will take the first watch.”

  From the position of the half moon, I put the time at about eleven o’clock and Baca’s hand was on my shoulder. He was motioning me for quiet. Then he whispered close to my ear, “Horses… may be wild.”

  We both listened in complete silence. I’m not sure we even breathed. I could hear the movement, but the light was too poor to see much more than what was nearby. It was definitely horses, but we didn’t know if they were wild or Cope’s bunch getting in late. It could even be a band of Utes or Navajos on the move. I doubted if any Indians would go into that place even in broad daylight. Indians won’t normally go where the spirits are strong. They would have known about this place for years and it would be considered sacred and a taboo.

  Then among the muffled sounds of several horses walking on sandy ground, we heard the clink of metal on metal. It wasn’t very loud, but it wasn’t the kind of noise a wild horse would make. No self respecting Indian would slip around in the dark with something that would make any kind of noise. It was several white men moving in the dark, and we didn’t have to wonder who they were. All we had to do was wait for morning.

  I took the next two hour watch, while Angel slept. We had been lucky that there was no wind blowing because we were so intent on the horses passing by, we had forgotten about our own. It would only take a whiff of those other horses to cause one of ours to snort or nikker. Those are the mistakes we can only hope to live long enough not to make them again.

  Morning came gray and overcast with the feel of rain. Rain was seldom unwelcome in New Mexico, but I was hoping it would hold off for just a little while. I had the fire going and coffee boiling before I lightly touched Baca’s arm. Like most men who live their lives from heart beat to heart beat, he was instantly awake. He made no move for a second or two while he peered out of the slits between his eyelids… he was a cautious man… a lesser man would have been dead many times over.

  We could afford a fire and some coffee and bacon this morning. If Cope and his bunch had made their way through the crack in the dark, they’d be well out of range. Even if they had waited till daylight, they’d be far enough down canyon so as not to smell smoke. If we were going to get wet or killed this day, a good breakfast and plenty of coffee were in order.

  Winding my big railroad watch, I saw that it was two minutes passed seven o’clock. Gracy would be giving the crew their orders about now. Maria and Consuela would be cleaning up after breakfast. Patty Anne would be changing Elizabeth and answering a thousand questions from Andy. And here I was checking my guns getting ready to kill or be killed…. I couldn’t be thinking about things like that at a time like this.

  Entering the main canyon, we found their tracks in the sandy soil. Baca kept looking up at the spires trying to reach above the canyon wall. I heard they have something like them over in Utah, but I think those are more like stacked rocks all melted together… they call them hoodoos.

  “I am reminded of those things in caves that seem to grow from the floor to meet those that are growing down from above.” I knew what he was talking about, but I’d never heard them called by any name.

  It took nearly a half an hour to reach the crack. Baca looked at it with some doubt, but he said nothing. Before we started in I needed to give him some notion of the layout.

  “When we get near the end, it will start to widen. We’ll need to dismount and lead the horses. If they have posted a guard, we’d be dead meat sitting up in those saddles… I’ll go up to the opening first and you can bring the horses up when it’s clear.”

  “There are two parts to the valley… one is where we will be going in… the other will be off to our right about a quarter mile around a sharp turn to the left and a waterfall… That’s where they’re likely to be holed up. If there no guard, we should take the horses up into the pines and go on by foot. We’ll just head straight across the valley. If there is a guard… then it’s every man for himself.”

  Smoke didn’t like the crack anymore than he did the first time we went through it. But he was a good horse and had been well trained. I’d have to give Delgado credit for the finer points of his training. Despite his training, he was still on edge, so I stroked his neck and spoke to him as softly and calmly as I could. I looked back at Baca, and he wasn’t at all comfortable, but he was game.

  Over five hundred feet above us, we could see loose boulders along the edge some as big as steers, the parts we could see. I was hoping the parts we couldn’t see were at least big enough to keep them grounded right where they were. I suspected that many of those fell when the mountain split. Likely, they’ve been falling from higher up ever since. The floor of the crack was littered with rocks and boulders of all sizes. Looking up, the sky was nothing more than a thin, jagged, dull gray line.

  As we neared the end of the crack, it began to spread wider, so we dismounted. Baca held the horses back, while I crept forward as far as I could and still be under cover. The open grassy valley floor could be swept quickly only a few stops for a bush or a stunted tree. Then I took the right side, searching first close up, and then as far away as the stream, and slowly I worked my way back to close up. I repeated the process on the far side. I motioned Baca forward.

  We mounted and went quickly but cautiously across the valley and up into the pines. We found a clearing with some fair grass for the horses, so we staked them and moved down the slope on foot. We stayed under cover until we got close to the point where the valley changed direction. Baca would move out from there and past the waterfall. He’d take up his position at the next point. I would go over the outcropping and cross above the waterfall and fire from above.

  I was near the top of the outcropping, and I could see Baca down below about thirty or so yards from where he wanted to be. But right then, he was in the open and not where he wanted to be. I quit climbing and covered him until he could get under cover at the point.

  Sneaking a peek over the top, I saw the last thing I wanted to see, a rider heading aroun
d the point. If he turned his head to the left as he came around, he’d have Angel Baca out in the open and easy pickins. Baca couldn’t hear him because of the waterfall behind him. The only thing I could do was forget about surprise and get that rider off Angel’s back.

  As he came around the point I stood and fired a quick shot in the general direction of the rider. I had no plan of hitting him, but I wanted his attention focused on me. The rider pulled up, spun his horse, and sent two pistol shots in my direction. Both shots were low, but at that distance and shooting from a moving horse, he’d have a million to one chance of scoring a hit. I flipped my rifle up to my shoulder and took a more calculated shot with better results. He had taken lead, but I couldn’t tell where or how bad. He hunched low over the bows and jammed the spurs home.

  Baca was under cover in a nice little perch at the end of the outcropped slab of stone. I was taking fire from across the lower end of the valley. The rider rode his horse up onto the ledge in front of the lower level of cliff houses. He tumbled out of the saddle and was dragging his left leg toward the cliff houses and out of my line of sight. From where I was, he looked like Collins. I didn’t know Rivera or Kade, and the distance took away any facial details, so it could have been any of them. It didn’t matter; we’d have to take them all… one way or another.

  Angel was set. He had glimpses of a target up in the pines above and to the right of the cliff houses. I couldn’t see his target, but I could see him aiming. Also, he could see where the rider had gone… I could see nothing. I was in no position to see what was going on. To get where I needed to be, I would have to cross the top of the waterfall. The water was coming from a jagged crack in the wall. It must be feeding from way up in the mountains. From my position I could see another peak above the valley wall.

  If I could get to the edge of the cliff, I’d be in good position to cover almost any part of the cliff. But first I had to cover about forty yards of open ground, and the man Baca was trying to target would have a clear shot at me. He was higher and well hidden.

  The waterfall wasn’t very high. It wasn’t more than thirty five or so feet above the valley floor, and the path I would have to take was another ten feet higher and farther back. Trying to run across closer to the fall, would mean running on a slope covered with wet grass and mossy rocks. I’d have to take my chances with the longer higher run.

  Baca was easily visible from where I was, and he could see me well enough. The way he was situated, I was the only one who could shoot him, and I wasn’t planning doing that. So I called out, “Cover me.” He looked up and I motioned that I was ready to take off. He nodded and opened fire on the elusive target he had been trying to locate.

  I took off running low and fast. I went over the ridge and down into a dip, then I went scrambling up to the path I was planning to use. I hit level ground and a bullet smashed into a rock a few inches from my left knee and whined off into gray low hanging sky. I was running in a lower crouch by then, if that was possible. Angel was making it difficult for the man in the trees to get another shot. Then shots started coming from the cliff houses, causing Angel to pull back temporarily. But I had already reached my goal.

  After a few seconds to get lay of things, I was ready to join the fight. But first, I had to give them a chance to throw down and come out.

  “Cope… Rivera… Collins…Kabe,” I shouted, “this is Ben Blue…. Throw out your weapons and come out. It’s all over. There’ll be a posse coming up the trail sometime this afternoon, or in the morning at the latest.”

  Nothing came from the cliff houses, but the man up in the trees opened up on me. I counted ten shots smashing and whining off the rocks that protected me. They gave good cover, if a person didn’t mind laying there on his belly getting covered with stinging bits of rock and dust. But at least I had something to aim at here. Before, I was just a big redheaded lump decorating a hillside.

  Angel fired couple of rounds into the trees, and things quieted down. Those in the cliff houses hadn’t fired a shot for some time. There was a chance they may be more willing to listen than the maniac up on the slope.

  “Collins,” I shouted, “you and me… we’ve had our difference of opinion, but I’ll make sure you get a fair trial, same goes for you too, Kade…. The same goes for all of you.”

  It was quiet for a moment and then a voice called out, “It’s Collins. And I’m comin’ out.”

  “Throw all your weapons out first and come out with your hands away from your body, and walk to the far end and then walk toward the outcrop… follow his instructions from there.”

  I heard a rifle clatter on the stone ledge, and then a hand gun skidded across the rocks. “That’s all I got… I’m walkin’ out.”

  Twisting myself around, I was able to peek between some stones and saw Collins walk out onto the flat platform like ledge. He wasn’t limping, so it wasn’t him I put a bullet in. He walked to the far side where I could see him well and down the slope to the valley floor and started toward the outcrop. I was cautious to keep well covered as he walked. It was no time to get careless with three others out there.

  He was within fifteen feet of the outcrop, and I could hear Baca talking to him. Then I heard a loud string of Spanish profanity coming from the cliff houses. It wasn’t the boarder Spanish that was used to in these parts. It was Castilian Spanish, the same as Dona Elena spoke, but she never used those words in her life. The next thing heard was a shot coming from the ledge.

  Rolling quickly to my left, I saw a tall thin man in a fine short Mexican style jacket crouched at the doorway of one of the houses. He stood to turn and go back inside. Gun smoke still lingered when I pulled the trigger. My shot spun him completely around and Baca’s shot slammed him back inside the door. A man shouldn’t use that kind of language… it’ll lead him to a fitting end.

  I raised to get my rifle from between two rocks, and a bullet smacked one of those rocks causing me to lose my grip on the action. I was in the process of shifting hands when tiny splinters of rock laced my hand and dust filled my right eye. I rolled back under cover momentarily blinded and bleeding from a hand that felt like it had been chewed on by a cougar…. At least I hoped I was only momentarily blind.

  Chapter 23

  It seems like when you get something in one eye, the other one wants to close too. I was more than a minute getting my good eye open and cleared of enough water, to take a look at my hand. It wasn’t very pretty, and it stung like a thousand hornets had built a nest on my thumb. I could see bits of rock sticking up out of the bloody little pits, but everything worked, so I wrapped it with my kerchief until I could get it cleaned up.

  My injured eye took a little longer to nurse it back to health, once I was able to keep it open for more than a second, my vision came back quickly. But there seemed to be about a pound of sand grinding away in there… That too would have to wait.

  “Benito, is bueno, yes?” I heard Baca call out.

  “Si.” I told him. “just got a little something in my eye… Is better.”

  Now that I had two working eyes, I started looking around for my rifle. It must have fallen here somewhere. Squeezing my eyes tight and opening them again, hoping I’d be able to locate it with a fresh tear wash. But nothing new had been added to my surroundings. Then I happened to glance at the bullet scar on the rock, and I saw the rifle. It was laying right where I must have dropped it… about two feet beyond the rocks.

  That fella… Kade… It must have been Kade down there in the stone house because it wasn’t Cope who come riding around the point. Him I could keep hopping with a Colt, but the man up in the trees was out of pistol range. I needed to get that rifle.

  “Angel… Can you keep that hombre up on the slope busy for a few seconds… My rifle is on the other side of these rocks… start when you’re ready.” I yelled.

  Angel started pumping lead into the woods, and I started over the rocks. I had enough reach to snag it and withdraw almighty quick. Sitting with my ba
ck to a boulder checking to make sure the rifle still worked, I noted the sun must have been coming out and looked up… There was no sun, nor was there a hat on my head.

  I saw my hat some fifteen feet away under a bush. I reached up to make sure it was gone, and saw a bullet hole through the under part of my sleeve. It was up close to the arm pit, a place where you should sort of know if a bullet came that close… But I didn’t. Then I took a look at the rocks I had reached between and over to fetch my rifle. There were at least five new bullet scars between the two of them… that I could see.

  That fool, Cravens or Cope was more intent on killing me than saving his own life because all the while he was shooting at me; Baca was pumping lead into his position. Things quieted down in a hurry. I wondered if Angel had scored a hit on Cope. He was awfully quiet. There was no way of knowing, without one of us going up there to find out… We waited.

  Out of nowhere came a world of cussing and yelling from down in one of the stone houses. Two rifle shots rang out inside, which would have made that little room a nightmare of ricochets. More yelling and screaming, and a Colt was emptied with a rolling roar. Kade came stumbling out bloodied and wild. He was screaming something about “Them” as he clicked on and empty. He threw his pistol at the door and pulled another from his belt. He fired two shots into the room, turned and fired two at me. When I saw him turn, I knew I was the target and took cover ready to return fire, but Angel took care of it and dropped him with a single shot to the head.

  One man left to deal with. And he had been quiet for a while. I searched the area where he should have been, but I could see nothing, and certainly nothing moving. I raised up to get into position to work my way down to the valley floor. As I did, a six-gun fired from across the valley. Where the bullet went was a mystery. It was a light load and caliber… probably a .32. He was out of ammunition for his rifle.