Skeleton Lode

by Ralph Compton

  “Señor Davis be more astuto than he look,” said Sanchez admiringly. “We become the amigos of these hombres, and per’ap we fight the Indios together. Then when we have find the gold, we shoot our new amigos, per’ap in the back, no?”

  “Per’ap in the back, yes,” Bollinger laughed. “Señor Davis treats all his good amigos equal.”

  Davis glared at Bollinger, while the Mexican duo laughed delightedly.

  “Per’ap we find these new amigos before they find us,” Yavapai grinned.

  Dallas shared Kelly’s pack for a pillow, while Arlo shared Kelsey’s, but the stone floor made a poor bed. Kelly’s arm was flung across Dallas’s chest, and when he sat up, he awakened her.

  “God,” Dallas said, “I’d swap the mine for a cup of hot coffee.”

  “You’re waking the rest of us to say that?” Kelly asked.

  “We’re already awake,” said Arlo, “and I’d have to agree with him. I feel like we’ve been in here a week.”

  “We’ll never know when daylight comes,” Kelly said. “Let’s light a match and see what time it is by Uncle Henry’s watch.”

  Dallas lit a match, and Kelsey opened the front of her shirt enough for Arlo to see the face of the watch, which was on a leather thong around her neck.

  “Almost three o’clock,” said Arlo. “Another two hours until first light.”

  “I don’t aim to wait that long,” Dallas said. “I figure that bunch got their floor shook last night just like we did. I’d bet they’ll be out of that hole without takin’ time for breakfast.”

  “Oh, I hope you’re right,” said Kelsey. “I’m so hungry.”

  “We’re not going to be any less hungry just sittin’ here waitin’ for daylight,” Arlo said, “so why don’t we use this time to investigate the new advantage Hoss has given us?”

  “How are the three pegs driven into the rock going to help us, unless we’re under the mountain where the gold is?” Kelly asked. “There are no passages to consider, except the one the stream runs into. The outside end of it leads to the cavern where Mother was shot, and the other end goes back into the mountain somewhere.”

  “That’s what I aim to investigate,” said Arlo. “Once we reach that tunnel, instead of following it and the stream outside, I want to take the other direction, deeper into the mountain. When Paiute stole you and Kelsey away, you said he took a side passage, veering to your right. That means there’s a way from where we are right now back to our hidden camp. With what Hoss has just revealed to us, I believe we can find that passage.”

  “You think the three wooden pegs in the wall serve more than one purpose, then,” Dallas said. “Besides marking the location of the gold, they could also tell us which of the passages beneath these mountains are safe.”

  “I don’t just think it,” Arlo said. “I can prove it. Remember that passage that led us down from the death’s head mountain, with its dangerous drop to the underground river? From here, we could follow that same passage back to death’s head, but here, where that passage begins, there’s nothing along the walls. Doesn’t that tell you something? Hoss left no message from this end.”

  “Hoss didn’t mark it,” said Dallas, “because of the underground river and that god-awful drop-off.”

  “No,” Kelsey said, “but he brought us in from the other direction, and it was just as dangerous, because we had no warning.”

  “No help for that,” said Arlo. “He had to get us in here somehow, and he used the death’s head on the side of the mountain to do it. Besides, he knew Dallas and me wouldn’t walk into that hole unawares.”

  “Oh, God,” Kelly groaned, “there may be hundreds of passages under these blessed mountains, and that means the gold we’re looking for could be somewhere down any tunnel Uncle Henry marked as safe.”

  “Exactly,” said Arlo, “but look at it this way. Not only is Hoss telling us which passages are safe, he’s telling us where we might find the gold. Suppose we encounter maybe a hundred tunnels? Those without Hoss Logan’s mark are eliminated. True, he may have marked many passages where there is no gold, but we may need those passages to find other messages from Hoss, or to take us nearer to the mine itself.”

  “If there’s a chance we can find the passage that takes us back to our camp,” Kelsey said, “then let’s go look for it. Even if those men are still in the cave at the front of the passage, they won’t know about us because we’ll be going deeper into the mountain.”

  When they reached the passage down which the stream flowed to the outside, they listened, but heard nothing. Turning back to the left, they went on, Dallas in the lead with a flaming pine torch. He drew up at the yawning mouth of a tunnel that angled back to their left.

  “No,” Kelsey whispered. “It was a passage like this, where Paiute took Mother.”

  “I’m gambling it won’t be a tunnel we’ll have to investigate,” Arlo said, “but we need to know for sure. Let’s look for Hoss’s mark.”

  Kelly and Kelsey sighed with relief when a careful search failed to reveal the sign. The four of them continued on, passing two additional tunnels to their left, neither of which Hoss had marked.

  “You were right, Arlo,” Kelly admitted. “So far we’ve found Uncle Henry’s mark only once.”

  “When we find it again,” said Arlo, “I expect it’ll be on a passage to our right. That would take us back toward the western rim, the side of the mountain range facing town.”

  “We may be about to prove what we’ve suspected all along,” Dallas said. “That the mine is nowhere near this mountain. Hoss was the kind who’d have pitched his camp as far from the pay dirt as possible.”

  The fourth passage wandered away to their right. They passed their poor light over the stone walls as high as they could reach and found nothing. The floor had a film of mud, and they could hear dripping water. Dallas thought he saw something, and he knelt and began sweeping away the mud, revealing an all-but-invisible crack in the stone. There, side by side, was the trio of wooden pegs!

  “This is the way to our camp!” Kelsey cried.

  “Not directly,” Arlo said. “Our camp’s near the rim, and right now we’re at the very bottom of the mountain.”

  Their passage diminished until they were on their hands and knees. When they were able to get to their feet again, they were in a high-ceilinged cavern much like the one where they’d spent the night.

  “I remember that narrow place where we had to crawl,” said Kelly. “Paiute made us go first, and I was scared to death.”

  While their original passage ended, two others led out, one to the right and one to the left.

  “Paiute led us down the one to the right,” Kelsey said.

  “That’s the way back to our camp, then,” said Arlo, “but we’re going to have a careful look at them both for any sign Hoss left.”

  The sign they sought, and soon found, was inside the mouth of the passage to the right, head-high.

  “Even if Kelly and Kelsey didn’t remember taking the right-hand passage,” Dallas said, “common sense says that’s the way to our camp. With Hoss tellin’ us it’s safe, we can come back later and look into this other tunnel.”

  The passage to the right also angled upward, and by the time it leveled out, they came upon yet another tunnel that dead-ended into their own from the left. It took them only a few moments to find Hoss Logan’s familiar mark.

  “Unless we’ve lost all sense of direction,” said Arlo, “that one has to lead to the west rim, and fresh air. See how it’s drawing our flame?”

  “Straight ahead, then,” Dallas said, “and we ought to reach our camp.”

  There were three more passages, all dropping back to the right and all dangerously steep. Hoss Logan’s sign marked none of them.

  “I’m sorry I was critical of Uncle Henry’s markings,” said Kelly. “It’s kind of spooky, him guiding us through these passages long after he’s gone.”

  Soon there was the familiar sound of splashing
water. Dallas dropped the burning pine torch and snuffed it out with his boot. The four of them went on, the sound of water covering their approach. Dallas was the first to reach the end of the passage, coming out behind the miniature waterfall. One of the mules brayed, and all four animals seemed glad to see them.

  “Thank God,” Kelsey exhaled. “It’s like we’ve been lost for a long time, and suddenly we found our way home.”

  “Let’s get a fire going,” said Dallas, “and make some coffee.”

  “You do that,” Arlo said, “and I’ll look around. I want to be sure our camp hasn’t been disturbed.”

  “Hell,” said Dallas, “I’ll save you the trouble. Half our coffee’s gone.”

  “Paiute,” Arlo said. “We can’t begrudge him that.”

  “He can’t hide from us forever,” said Kelsey, “now that we know Uncle Henry’s mark. Somewhere in these mountains, there must be another good spot like this, hidden and having water.”

  “I think you can count on that,” Dallas said, “but while Hoss marked some passages for us, he left as many unmarked. It’s down one of these unmarked tunnels that he made his final camp. That’s where we’ll find Paiute, if we find him at all.”

  “And probably the mine, as well,” said Arlo.

  “Then why all these markings?” Kelly cried. “I thought we had finally discovered the key to the mine.”

  “We have,” said Arlo, “but that doesn’t mean those markings are the only guide. In some passages Hoss has marked, there’ll be some final clue that won’t mean anything to anybody except maybe you and Kelsey. Something from the past that maybe even Dallas and me won’t understand. Anybody might discover his mark—this trio of wooden pegs—and they’ll expect that to eventually take them to the mine.”

  “So Uncle Henry didn’t intend for the markers to lead anybody to the mine,” Kelsey said, “and they’re serving a purpose other than telling us which of the passages are safe. Anybody depending on the markers to lead them to the mine will actually be led away from it.”

  “Exactly,” said Arlo. “Paiute brought Dallas and me to this camp, and he could have shown us the safe passages we followed this morning, but he didn’t. Why didn’t he?”

  “Because Uncle Henry wanted us to discover the mark for ourselves,” Kelly said, “and not because it’s a trail we can follow to the mine. I think you’re right—somewhere in one of these passages he’s marked for us, we’ll find something—some final lead—that nobody else will understand.”

  “Be thinking back over the years,” said Dallas, “to the times your uncle visited you. The things he said to you, the things he did, just anything that might be important enough for you to remember.”

  “When we were thirteen,” said Kelsey, “the Christmas after Daddy sent Uncle Henry the picture that’s in the watch, he bought each of us a spotted pony. He said the Plains Indians favored them. Mother threw a fit. It was the last thing she wanted, us owning horses. After Daddy was … killed, we never saw our spotted ponies again. She had Gary Davis sell them.”

  “We’ll eat and rest for a while,” Arlo said, “and then I think we ought to explore that other passage Hoss marked.”

  Gary Davis and his companions had no trouble finding the seven men who were trailing their horses. The animals had been driven down-canyon until it petered out, and there they had scattered.

  “They’ll all come together somewhere,” Bowdre growled, “but when, and how far? By God, we’re in big trouble.”

  “We got company too,” said Zondo Carp. “Four hombres.”

  It was Gary Davis who reined his horse in forty yards away, his three companions fanning out beside him. Whatever their differences, they managed to present a unified front. Davis spoke.

  “I reckon the Apaches paid you a visit last night.”

  “They did,” said Bowdre. “You here to gloat or to help?”

  “Depends on you,” Davis said. “We’ve had one run-in with the Apaches, and I doubt the four of us could stand another.”

  “There were five of you yesterday,” said Bowdre, his eyes on the riderless horse that R. J. Bollinger led. “We found the hombre shot in the back. Wasn’t much of a testimonial to your friendliness.”

  “Wasn’t intended to be,” Davis said coldly. “A man that runs out on me when the going gets tough takes his chances.”

  “You ain’t wantin’ to be friends, then,” said Bowdre sarcastically, “and that’s some relief. So I reckon your interest in us is purely business. For the sake of your hair, you’d like to throw in with us. Then, when we’ve found the gold, or you reckon we’re close to it, you’ll pay us off in lead and take it all for yourselves.”

  “I may have to kill you,” said Davis with an evil laugh, “but I won’t lie to you. Will you be as honest with me? By God, you’re accusing me of plannin’ the very thing you’ll do, given the chance. Who are you, anyhow?”

  “I’m Cass Bowdre. That’s Joe Dimler, Zondo Carp, and Pod Osteen to my right. At my left is Os Ellerton, Eldon Sandoval, and Mose Fowler. Now, who the hell are you?”

  “Gary Davis. R. J. Bollinger leadin’ the hoss. The Mex pair is Yavapai and Sanchez. They claim to be familiar with these mountains.”

  “You have pick a bad camp, Señor,” said Yavapai, looking sadly at Bowdre, “and you be lucky losing only your horses. Already the mountain have take five people, and they no return.”

  “Hell, we lost more’n our hosses,” Pod Osteen said. “Some coyote-footed varmint come in that cave an’ took our packs while we was sleepin’. We got no grub. Not even any coffee for breakfast.”

  “Lawd God,” Mose groaned, “I knowed de spirits was in that mountain.”

  “We got a pack mule and grub at our camp,” said Davis affably, “and it ain’t too far to walk. I reckon we can talk there. We got one extra hoss, but it’ll be tricky as hell comin’ up with six more.”

  “Damn right it will,” Bollinger said, “and you won’t find ’em in town. Me and Rust only needed five, and a mule. We barely found ’em, and when we did, we paid three prices for ’em.”

  “You come lookin’ for us,” said Bowdre, “leavin’ your pack mule and grub in camp? That don’t strike me as bein’ too smart, seein’ as how you’ve been cleaned out by Injuns before.”

  “The camp be close,” Yavapai said, “and it not be dark.”

  But an unpleasant surprise awaited them. When they reached camp, they found their packs, their food, and the mule gone.

  Several of Cass Bowdre’s men looked at Gary Davis and his companions in disgust, but they weren’t quite in a position to laugh, because at least Davis and his men were mounted. But grub-wise, they were all in the same sorry position.

  “By God,” said Zondo Carp, “I never seen such …”

  “Knock it off, Zondo,” growled Bowdre. “The truth is, we’ve all come off like damn fools, allowin’ ourselves to be stole from like a bunch of shorthorns. Now we’re needin’ hosses and grub, and us chawin’ on one another ain’t goin’ to change that. Since there’s no hosses to be had in that little town we just come from, that means we got to try another town. Davis, if you’ll let me ride that extra hoss, you and me can go hoss hunting.”

  “It’s you that’s needin’ horses,” said Davis. “Sheriff Wheaton’s got nothin’ on us. We can buy all the grub we need, close by.”

  “I reckon you can,” Bowdre said, turning his hard eyes on Davis, “and while you’re there, buy yourself some help to fight the Apaches.”

  The implication was clear enough, and Davis shifted his eyes to Bollinger, then to Yavapai and Sanchez. One wrong move, and Gary Davis would become an outcast, scorned by his companions, rejected by these hard-case newcomers. Swallowing hard, he turned to Cass Bowdre.

  “Yeah,” he said, “you can ride the extra horse. What town you got in mind?”

  “Florence,” said Bowdre. “It’s thirty miles south. We rode through it on our way in. If we can’t find six hosses there, we’ll ride north
east to Globe. We’ll need a pack mule, too.”

  Davis nodded, holding his temper and biting his tongue. Bowdre had pressed his advantage, making it clear he planned the continued use of the horse that Barry Rust had ridden. Davis consoled himself with the thought that this miserable alliance was, at worst, only temporary. It would end if and when they found the gold, and then he would pay off this hardcase bunch with a different metal—lead.

  “Let’s ride, then,” Bowdre said.