Skeleton Lode

by Ralph Compton

  * * *

  Cass Bowdre and his men sat around their breakfast fire drinking coffee. Gary Davis, Yavapai, and Sanchez, while part of the group, had separated themselves from the others.

  “Startin’ today,” said Bowdre, “we’re goin’ into the caves and tunnels. Any man that don’t agree with that can saddle up and ride.”

  His hard eyes were on Yavapai, Sanchez, and the nervous Mose Fowler. The superstitious trio looked at him and swallowed hard but said nothing.

  “Somewhere beneath the rim of that first mountain,” Pod Osteen said, “the one facin’ town—this Wells and Holt has got a camp. We proved that yesterday. Why ain’t we goin’ back up there and lookin’ around?”

  “Because Wells and Holt ain’t holed up in camp,” said Bowdre, “and us findin’ them won’t tell us a damn thing. They’re searchin’ the tunnels under these mountains, and that’s exactly what we’re goin’ to do.”

  “Sounds like a standoff,” Three-Fingered Joe said. “They’ll have a light and we’ll have a light. Can’t be no gunplay. With solid rock all around us, ricochet lead would cut us all to ribbons.”

  “No call for gunplay till somebody finds the gold,” said Bowdre. “But you’re right. Them tunnels ain’t no place for a gunfight. When it’s time to burn powder, it’ll have to be an almighty short ruckus. Whoever has the advantage will win the fight and the gold. Keep that in mind when the showdown comes.”

  “I’m promisin’ you one damn thing,” said Zondo Carp. “When some coyote cuts down on me, I’m shootin’ back, ricochet or not.”

  There was a chorus of agreement from the others.

  “All right,” Bowdre growled, “but them other jaspers will likely feel the same way, and somebody’s gonna git shot to doll rags.”

  “Won’t be you, though,” said Pod Osteen maliciously. “You got a swole-up foot and can’t go.”

  “No,” Gary Davis cut in, “but I can, and I will. Has anybody got guts enough to go with me? Bowdre, pick two or three men to stay with you to see to the horses and grub. The rest—them with sand enough, that is—will go with me into those tunnels.”

  Bowdre grinned in spite of himself. While he hated Davis, he had to admire the way the man flung down a challenge. Bowdre chose Yavapai, Sanchez, and Mose Fowler to remain with the horses. Maybe the superstitious Mexicans and the spirit-conscious Negro would be less afraid once the rest of the men returned from their quest unharmed.

  “Who’s ramroddin’ this party?” Pod Osteen demanded, his eyes on Gary Davis.

  “You are,” said Davis, “for all I care. I’ll side you, as long as you don’t pull some fool stunt that’ll get us all killed.”

  “By God, I’ll ride with mat,” Eldon Sandoval said.

  The others agreed, for me first time looking upon Davis with some approval. He noted the obvious friction between Bowdre and Osteen. He was satisfied that a carefully fanned spark might produce a useful flame.

  “We’ll leave the camp where it is,” said Bowdre. “Keep track of the time, and pull out of that mountain before dark. Don’t leave just the four of us to face the Apaches come night.”

  Pod Osteen looked at Bowdre with some amusement, but resisted the obvious temptation to speak. Instead, he went to me resinous pine log he’d found and began peeling off long slivers with his Bowie. He aimed to have enough pine torches to last me day. At last they were ready, and me six of them—Three-Fingered Joe, Zondo Carp, Os Ellerton, Eldon Sandoval, Gary Davis, and Pod Osteen—set out for the mysterious passage at me foot of the mountain.

  Dallas and Kelly proceeded along the new passage, which gradually grew steeper as it began to curve.

  “I have the feeling we’re on our way to another mountain,” Dallas said. “This passage angles away from the others, and now it’s turning even more, and in the same direction.”

  “Steep as it is,” said Kelly, “we must be headed for the top of the mountain. Maybe we’ll come out at some point where we can see well enough to get our bearings. I’d like to know where we are in relation to the other mountains.”

  The first break in the wall was no more than a crevice, narrow and not even head-high. Dallas and Kelly carefully examined the wall on each side of the split but found nothing.

  “Thank God Uncle Henry didn’t mark that one,” Kelly said. “I’d hate to try and get into it or out of it.”

  Their passage continued, the way growing steeper, with no alternate tunnels. Much of the stone walls were encrusted with gray-green lichen, so they almost overlooked the crude drawings.

  “Look,” Kelly cried.

  Barely visible in the pale light from their torch was a “stick” man, and the head of another. Dallas brushed away the lichen, revealing the crude likeness of a horse.

  “Old Indian drawings,” said Kelly.

  “Maybe,” Dallas said. He continued to brush the surface of the stone, revealing two more horses in a line behind the first. But that was all.

  “They’re no help to us,” Kelly said. “They’ve been here hundreds of years.”

  “The man and the first horse, maybe,” said Dallas, “but the second and third horses are different from the first. They’re fatter, and they’ve been here just long enough for the stone to moss over. Look at the outline of the old Indian horse. It’s almost faded out, while the outlines of the other two are still plain.”

  Excited now, Kelly took her bandanna and began to rub the stone flanks of the second and third horses. Slowly a series of tiny dots that had been chiseled into the stone emerged.

  “Dear God,” Kelly cried, “it’s the spotted ponies! He remembered them!”

  “Yes,” said Dallas, “and he counted on you and Kelsey remembering, too.”

  “Then this is the passage to the mine!”

  “Maybe,” Dallas said, “but I doubt it. Hoss just wanted us to know we’re goin’ the right way. Now you’d better take some dirt and hide the spotted horses again. Gary Davis might remember them too, especially if it’s obvious we’ve cleaned that part of the wall.”

  “Perhaps they won’t get this far.”

  “They will,” said Dallas. “They know we’re in the tunnels, and by now they’ve decided if there’s any gold, it’ll be down one of these passages.”

  “Then let’s go on as far as we can. At least to the end of this one.”

  When it seemed they must be nearing the very top of the mountain, the passage suddenly turned to a steep descent.

  “Here,” Dallas said, “take my hand. We may be headed for another of those drop-offs where a stretch of the floor’s gone.”

  When they eventually reached the chasm it was more formidable than anything their wildest imagination might have conceived. First there was a faraway sound of rushing water, and as they drew closer, they heard an eerie echo.

  “There’s our underground river again,” said Dallas, “and I’d say we’re in for a damn unpleasant surprise. Hoss tried to ease the blow with the spotted horses. I reckon he must have thought we’d need some encouragement, because there may be somethin’ ahead that’ll scare the hell out of us.”

  Chapter 12

  The furious voice of the river grew louder, yet still seemed distant. Their way grew less steep, leveling out until they stood on a ledge. In the poor light of the torch, they could see a ragged edge, and beyond that, nothing. But for the sound of the water far below, they would have thought the void bottomless.

  “My God,” Kelly shuddered, “it must be a mile deep.”

  “A good four or five hundred feet,” said Dallas. “We’re gettin’ no spray, so that tells us we’re a long ways above the water. Let’s go a little closer, so I can get some idea how far down it is.”

  “No!” Kelly cried. “Remember how the ledge broke off when you tried to cross that hole in the other passage?”

  “I don’t aim to get that close,” said Dallas. “I want to drop a lighted piece of pine and see how long it takes to reach the water.”

  From the torc
h he carried, Dallas lit another. When the flame had caught enough that the downdraft wouldn’t suck it out, he dropped the torch over the edge. The flame grew smaller and smaller, and by the time it was swallowed by the swirling water, they could barely see the tiny point of light.

  “My God,” said Kelly in awe.

  “While we’re here,” Dallas said, “we might as well look around and see if Hoss left us some sign.”

  Dallas began searching the stone walls of the passage that led to the ledge, but found nothing. A dozen feet from the edge of the drop-off, he got on his knees and ran his hands over the cracked and broken stone.

  “I know what you’re looking for,” said Kelly, “and I hope you don’t find it.”

  But he did find it. Near the edge of the precipice, driven into a crevice in the rock, were three little oak pins.

  Pod Osteen led the way down the dark passage Paiute had followed after stealing Kelly and Kelsey Logan away. Osteen hesitated when he reached the point where the stream flowed in from a second passage. Should he continue straight ahead or turn and follow the stream?

  “We’ll follow the water,” said Osteen. “Might lead us to somebody’s camp. If it comes to nothin’, or plays out, we can always backtrack.”

  They reached the cavern where Dallas, Arlo, Kelly, and Kelsey had spent a restless night. There they found nothing to interest them, for Arlo had scattered Hoss Logan’s trio of stones.

  “Come on,” said Osteen. “There’s another tunnel leadin’ out.”

  The next passage they took—the only one—led into the mountain whose western flank bore the shadowy likeness of a death’s head at sunset. Osteen and his followers were halted abruptly at the abyss above the underground river.

  “Maybe we can put our backs to the wall,” Osteen said, “and ease across the ledge to the other side.”

  “Go on,” Sandoval said, “if you’re that big a fool. I ain’t.”

  “Me neither,” said Three-Fingered Joe. Os Ellerton and Zondo Carp quickly agreed with Joe and Sandoval.

  “We’ll need a rope to cross that,” said Gary Davis. “Maybe a pair of them. That way, if a man slips, the rest of us can haul him back up.”

  “Good thinkin’,” Osteen said. “Who’ll go back for a pair of catch ropes?”

  “I’ll go,” said Davis. He followed the stream until it joined the main passage, where it flowed out of the mountain. But as he stepped into the main passage, a shadow moved behind him. Then a strong, bony arm circled his throat, and a powerful blow to the head silenced him without a whimper.

  “I don’t feel safe here anymore,” worried Kelsey Logan, awake now. “After they ran us into the tunnel, they’ll know it leads to our camp.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right,” Arlo said. “Even though they may not be looking for us, they’ll have to take to the passages looking for the gold, so they could just stumble onto us without even trying. Soon as you’re able to be up and around, we’ll have to get out of here.”

  “Let’s start by getting me some clothes on—but not until I’ve had a bath. I’ve sweated so much I stink. Please stir up the fire, heat some water, and help me wash myself.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather Kelly did that?”

  “Of course not,” she said. “Why are you suddenly so modest?”

  “I’m not,” he laughed, “but I thought you might be.”

  “How could I be,” Kelsey said, “after the three of you took off all my clothes, got me drunk, and let me spend most of a day and a night without even a blanket?”

  “Hell,” Arlo said, “you had all the blankets, and you kept fighting your way out of them. You even embarrassed Dallas, which ain’t easy.”

  “Then let’s spare the poor boy any more embarrassment,” she said. “Let’s get me all cleaned up and dressed before he gets back.”

  Dallas and Kelly returned to find Kelsey dressed and— despite Arlo’s protests—up and about. Arlo and Kelsey listened as Dallas explained what they had discovered.

  “Now that’s a real break,” said Arlo, “and it’s going to determine where we go from here. For the drop-off you’ve discovered, we’re going to need longer, stronger ropes and coal oil lanterns. That means a trip to town. Dallas, it’ll be up to you and Kelly.”

  “Then we’d better get started,” Dallas said. “We can be back before dark, and in the morning we’ll be ready to go over the edge and down to that crazy river.”

  “Lord,” said Kelly, “it’s an awful long way down. It scares me just thinking of it.”

  “You and Kelsey won’t be going down,” Arlo said. “Dallas and I will.”

  “I’m scared,” said Kelly, “but I’m going, however far down it is.”

  “So am I,” Kelsey said. “I’ve come this far, and I don’t want to be left out at the finish.”

  “You won’t be,” Arlo assured her. “Remember what a hell of a time we had, just getting into that mountain that had the death’s head at sundown, only to find that a passage led into it from the other end? We had to take the hard way in, because we knew of no other. Well, it’s going to be the same with the underground river. Only a fool would believe Hoss Logan hauled gold ore up over a bluff as high and as dangerous as that. So again, there has to be a better way in and out, but to find it we must first get in, and that means goin’ down the bluff. The underground stream has to go somewhere, and I believe at some point it’ll empty into the Salt River. Once we learn where it goes—and maybe where it originates—we’ll find a better way in and out.”

  “Much as I hate to give up this camp,” Dallas said, “when Kelly and me return from town, I think we’d better move out. Maybe off the mountain. If this bunch Davis is tied in with ain’t searchin’ the tunnels, they soon will be. Besides, we’re plumb out of graze for our horses and mules.”

  “Hustle, then,” said Arlo, “and if there’s anything else you can think of that we might need, bring it. This may be our last chance for supplies. Once we find the gold, we’ll have to fight to keep it.”

  Gary Davis had been gone for an hour, and Pod Osteen was fuming.

  “Eldon, you and Zondo go and bring some rope. By God, this Davis had better have a good excuse. Like two busted legs.”

  Sandoval and Carp returned to camp and told Cass Bowdre of the missing Davis.

  “Hell, I ain’t seen him since he left with you,” said Bowdre, mystified. “His hoss, his pack, and his grub’s still here. Maybe he took a wrong turn.”

  “All he had to do was foller that stream of water,” said Sandoval. “A blind mule could of done that.”

  “Ah knowed it,” Mose Fowler groaned. “He done been took by the spirits.”

  “Damn it,” Bowdre growled, “it don’t make sense. If he was wadin’ water, soon as he left it, there’d have been tracks. Some mud, anyhow.”

  “No tracks, no mud, no sign,” said Carp.

  “Is simple,” Sanchez said. “Señor Davis no leave mountain.”

  “Per’ap he never will,” Yavapai added. “It have take others, and now it take him.”

  “Damn fool superstitions,” Bowdre scoffed. “For whatever reason, Davis went down the wrong end of that shaft, and he’s lost in there. Let him find his way out, or stay lost. Now you hombres take a pair of ropes and get back to Osteen and the others.”

  Sandoval and Carp took the lariats and started back, while Cass Bowdre eyed his three companions in disgust. While Fowler and the Mejicanos might pull their weight in a fight with Apaches, they wouldn’t be worth a damn in a search of the dark passages beneath the Superstitions. Silently Bowdre cursed Gary Davis for a swollen foot and ankle that still refused to support his weight.

  From the east rim, Dallas and Kelly delayed their descent until Sandoval and Carp had disappeared into the mountain.

  “Like we figured,” said Dallas. “They’re into the tunnels, and I reckon they’ve reached that hole I fell into, so they went back for ropes.”

  “I just hope they don’t find their way t
o our camp,” Kelly replied, “with only Arlo and Kelsey there.”

  “They’ll be a while gettin’ across that hole,” Dallas said, “and when they do, all they’ll get is a trip back the way they come. But it’s the only passage they know of, where the stream flows out and into the canyon. Once they cross that hole, find nothing, and have to cross it again, the day will be mostly spent.”

  “So they won’t have time to find their way into our camp before tomorrow, even if they choose the right passages?” asked Kelly.