“No,” Dallas said, “because they’ll waste today findin’ out they’re barkin’ up the wrong tree. By then we’ll be back and will have moved our camp.”
“Where are we going?”
“Out of these mountains, for sure,” said Dallas. “We could camp in the brakes along the Salt River, but I’m favorin’ a move back to Hoss’s cabin, near Saguaro Lake. It’s not far when you ain’t dodgin’ a bunch of gold-crazy hombres.”
“But you can see for miles up here,” Kelly said. “When we ride back to search for the mine, they’ll see us coming.”
“They ain’t gonna be watchin’ from the rim if they’re in the passages and caves under the Superstitions,” said Dallas. “When they find the way to our deserted camp, they’ll have an idea we’re off the mountain. But I’m inclined to agree with Arlo. I think once we make it over the edge and down to that river, we’ll find a way to the outside, probably where the underground stream joins the Salt River. If that’s how it is, it’ll mean we can reach that underground canyon at some point distant from the mountains. Even if Gary Davis and that bunch do find the drop-off, they’ll have no reason to believe it’s the way to the mine. They’ll need a strong reason to climb down into that chasm, and they won’t have one. Would you climb down that way without a sign from Hoss?”
“My God, no!” she cried. “And you’re right—they won’t have a sign to guide them.”
“Right,” said Dallas. “Arlo and me will have to go one more time, to descend that bluff and find a way out. The in and out that Hoss used.”
“I just wish there was some other way,” Kelly said, “so you and Arlo didn’t have to go down into that terrible void. I wouldn’t have either of you hurt or killed for all the gold in Arizona. Or the world, for that matter.”
Dallas laughed. “Thanks, but I reckon it’s not as dangerous as it looks. Hoss wouldn’t have brought us this far just to get us killed. I think that’s why he didn’t hesitate to send you and Kelsey the same map he sent Arlo and me. He planned this so nobody—Gary Davis included— could figure it out without you and Kelsey.”
“Uncle Henry was awful sure we’d get together. Suppose we hadn’t?”
“Hoss knew Arlo and me pretty damn well, I reckon. Well enough that he had some idea which way we’d jump, once you and Kelsey showed up. As pretty a pair as two fiddle-footed cowboys ever laid eyes on. Of course,” he added gleefully, “we’ve laid eyes on considerably more of Kelsey than of you.”
“Once we find the gold,” she said, “that could change.”
“I aim for it to,” said Dallas, “but I’d like to manage it without you bein’ stripped by Apaches and shot by Davis and that bunch of outlaws.”
“So would I,” she said, “and I’d like to leave Arlo and Kelsey out of it.”
They slid their horses down the steep trail into the canyon where Kelsey had been shot. Dallas was in the lead, and he reined up, waiting for Kelly.
“What is it?” Kelly asked.
“Bad luck canyon,” said Dallas. “We almost lost Kelsey here, and I ain’t riskin’ you. Let’s ride.”
By the time Carp and Sandoval returned with the rope, Pod Osteen was in a vile mood.
“That damn Davis,” he snarled. “He sneaked off on his own. When he shows up again, he’ll claim he’s been lost.”
Osteen snubbed one end of a rope to a boulder and tied the other end under his arms. Three-Fingered Joe held the flaming pine torch.
“I’ll work my way across,” said Osteen. “If I should slip, or if that ledge won’t hold, haul me in, and do it quick.”
From the opposite side of the abyss, he began inching his way along the broadest of the two ledges, the same one that had crumbled beneath Arlo’s feet. He had taken only a few steps when the ledge gave way and he was falling. His terrified shriek was cut short when he hit the end of the rope and the wind was knocked out of him. When his companions had dragged him to safety, Osteen lay there sweating and gasping for breath.
“Maybe we oughta just go back the way we come,” said Three-Fingered Joe.
“Like hell,” Osteen grunted. “This may be the very shaft we need to search, and we’re gonna do it. Soon as I get my wind, I’ll try the other ledge.”
“By God,” said Os Ellerton, “either you got sand in your craw or you’re a damn fool. If that ledge won’t hold, what makes you think the other one will?”
“Because the other ledge is narrower and should be stronger,” Osteen said. “Besides, we got to get across that hole. I’m heavier than any of you, and if I can cross, the rest of you will be able to.”
Osteen got to his feet, and with his back to the wall, began inching his way across the other side of the gaping hole. This time he was successful.
“All right,” he said, loosening his end of the rope, “haul in the rope and the rest of you come on over. Whoever comes next, bring a piece of that pine and some matches, so’s we got light from this side.”
Osteen waited impatiently while his companions worked their way along the narrow ledge, one at a time. The abyss behind them, the five followed the passage to a cavern from which the only exit was straight down the side of the mountain. They were now within the mountain where the shadowy death’s head appeared at sundown.
“Not a damn thing here,” said Sandoval, “except some old bones without a head. We risked our necks crossin’ that black hole, and now we got to do it again, all for nothin’.”
“Maybe not,” Osteen said. “There’s breaks in these walls, and there’s some light. Maybe we can get back to the outside from here.”
Three-Fingered Joe had already found the hole where Arlo, Dallas, and the Logan girls had come in from the outside. He crept back into the cavern on hands and knees, a frown on his face.
“Well?” Osteen inquired impatiently.
“Yeah, you can get out that way,” said Joe, “if you’re a bird. It’s a good two hundred feet, straight down.”
“Damn,” Zondo Carp said, “most of a day shot, nothin’ to show for it, and we still got to cross that ledge again.”
“We’ll follow that stream back to the main passage,” said Osteen. “Then we’ll take that main passage on into the mountain.”
“Maybe you will,” Sandoval said, “but I’m callin’ it a day and havin’ some grub.”
“Same here,” said Three-Fingered Joe. “We’ll be a while just gettin’ out of here, and Cass wants us back before dark. God knows how many of these tunnels we’ll have to search. We can’t do it all in one day.”
Wearily, one at a time, they inched their way across the narrow ledge in the opposite direction. Reaching the point where the stream flowed into the main passage, they paused.
“That’s got to be the way Davis went,” Osteen said. “Before we leave, let’s go back there a ways and look around.”
Carrying the torch, he led out. They had gone only a few steps when he drew up. On me stone floor at his feet was a hat. Osteen picked it up and for a moment nobody said anything. Os Ellerton was the first to speak.
“I never knowed a man to lose his hat an’ leave it, unless he was dead or dyin’. I’m wonderin’ if Davis ain’t met somethin’ bigger an’ meaner than he was.”
It was a disturbing possibility that no man could ignore.
“These damn mountains are startin’ to spook me,” said Three-Fingered Joe. “As for Davis, I don’t even like the varmint, but I flat don’t believe he’s run out on us. Some-thin’ or somebody grabbed him.”
“I ain’t a superstitious Mex, myself,” Zondo Carp said, “but I’m ready to agree that somethin’ ain’t natural about these mountains.”
His words suddenly seemed all the more sinister, for deep within the mountain sounded a rumbling that shook the stone on which they stood. Zondo Carp had lit a pine torch of his own, and when he set out down the passage that led to the outside, the others followed. Pod Osteen was the last to leave, and for once he had nothing to say. In his hands was the hat Gary Davis
had left, and on his mind were troublesome questions to which he had no answers.
Dallas reined in his horse and waited until Kelly was beside him. “There’s just been a change in plans,” he said. “There ain’t a thing we need that can’t be had at Silas Hays’s general store in Tortilla Flat.”
“So we’re going there, avoiding the sheriff?”
“Right,” Dallas said. “While we haven’t broken any laws, I can’t see spending a couple of hours bringin’ Sheriff Wheaton up to date on what’s happened. I reckon I should have thought of that in time to discuss it with Arlo, but there’s no help for it now. I think you and Kelsey should remain among the missing, as far as the sheriff and everybody else is concerned. At least until we’ve either found the gold or given up on it.”
“You don’t think the people in Tortilla Rat will talk?”
“Sure,” Dallas said, “but it’s unlikely we’ll see anybody except old Silas at the store. While he ain’t above telling anything he knows, he won’t go out of his way to get word to the sheriff.”
Dallas and Kelly soon reached Tortilla Flat and rode past the blackened ruins of the Gila Saloon, to the general store without seeing anyone. With luck, nobody had seen them either. Silas Hays, the store’s bespectacled owner, was alone. Of course he had seen them ride up, but when Dallas and Kelly entered the store, Silas was busy trying to look busy.
“Howdy, Dallas,” said Silas, his eyes on Kelly.
“Silas,” Dallas said recklessly, “this is Kelly Logan. We’re gettin’ hitched, and we’re needin’ some stuff to set up housekeeping.”
This direct, unexpected turn was calculated to throw the nosy old fellow’s inquisitive nature off the track, and to the amusement of Dallas and Kelly, it had considerably more than the desired effect.
“Uh …. congratulations,” Silas stammered. “Arlo … what about …”
“Arlo’s goin’ with us on the honeymoon,” Dallas cut in, trying not to look at Silas. “We look to save all kinds of money takin’ just one hotel room. We’ll need some half-inch rope. Make it eight hundred feet, and cut it into four lengths of two hundred feet each. Besides that, we want five gallons of coal oil, two lanterns, ten pounds of coffee beans, and four quarts of whiskey.”
“A gallon of whiskey, then,” said Silas.
“A gallon,” Dallas said, “but in four one-quart bottles.”
Silas looked doubtfully at Dallas, wondering if all this was some kind of joke at his expense. But Dallas never changed expression, and Kelly forced herself to look equally serious. Silas began gathering their order. When it was ready, Dallas paid, and they departed without a word or a backward look.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” Kelly laughed, once they were outside. “You shocked the poor old fellow so badly, he couldn’t think of anything to say.”
“Only enough that he forgot to question us,” said Dallas, “and that was the idea. The very last thing we needed was questions about the mine. If I’d really wanted to shock him, I’d have told him that Arlo and me was rebuildin’ the Gila Saloon and you was one of the whores who’d be workin’ upstairs.”
“Don’t push your luck, cowboy.”
Dallas divided the load between his horse and Kelly’s. They rode out as they had come in, until they were out of sight of Tortilla Flat. It was Kelly who finally spoke.
“We should have brought one of the mules.”
“Won’t need one,” said Dallas. “We ain’t goin’ that far.”
“We’re not taking this back to the mountains?”
“No use packin’ it up the mountain only to haul it down again,” Dallas said. “Since we plan to move the camp, I think we’ll take this on to Hoss’s cabin and leave it there. It’ll be safe enough until we return.”
“Do you think Arlo will agree to us leaving the mountains and moving back to Uncle Henry’s cabin?”
“Yes,” Dallas said, “for several reasons. Mostly because our camp won’t be safe when the others who are searching for the mine take to the underground. Besides that, we’re going to need some time for Arlo and Kelsey to heal, and that means some protection from the elements. See that mass of clouds to the west? There’s another storm buildin’, if not today, then tomorrow. With any luck, we can find the mine before Davis and that bunch of coyotes he’s throwed in with discover we’ve moved back to the cabin.”
Cass Bowdre was worried. Despite his callous declaration that he didn’t care if Gary Davis was lost somewhere beneath the Superstitions, he was shaken when Pod Osteen handed him the hat Davis had been wearing. It was a bad omen. While Osteen’s arrogance hadn’t diminished in the slightest, the men who had accompanied him were subdued. When they spoke, it was with doubt and some fear.
“I ain’t sure Davis is lost in that mountain,” said Sandoval. “I’ll never get so damn lost I can’t pick up my hat.”
“Me neither,” said Three-Fingered Joe. “Suppose we foller the rest of them tunnels and don’t find hide nor hair of Davis?”
“You will find no sign of the Señor Davis,” Sanchez said. “Per’ap then you believe the Thunder God lives.”
“I’ve had a bellyful of the Thunder God,” Osteen snorted, “and I’m layin’ down a new rule. Once we find the gold, I ain’t sharin’ it with them that’s too damn cowardly to help search for it. Now if there’s any man that don’t like that, let him speak his piece an’ do it now.”
Nobody spoke. Every man’s eyes were on Cass Bowdre. It was a hard decision and a direct challenge to Bowdre’s leadership. It was going to cost Osteen. But the Apache threat to them all was very real, and he relied on that. But Cass Bowdre couldn’t allow them to see even a hint of intimidation, and he turned hard eyes on Osteen.
“As I recall. Pod,” said Bowdre, “when the Apaches grabbed our hosses, you done your share of hell-raisin’. Now, if I understand your gripe, you want every man looking for gold, again leavin’ our horses to the mercy of the Injuns. Is that what you’re sayin’. Pod?”
“By God,” Osteen shouted, “I’m sayin’ the same hombres don’t set on their hunkers ever’ day, while the rest of us search them passages under the mountains.”
“What the hell difference does it make who watches the hosses?” Bowdre demanded. “Since you don’t believe in the Thunder God, how can searching under the mountains be as risky as gettin’ your gut shot full of Apache arrows? You’re up against just one Thunder God, while the three men left with the hosses might have to face God knows how many Apaches.”
“Damn good point,” said Three-Fingered Joe. “I ain’t sure about this old Thunder God, but them Apaches is real enough to suit me.”
There was nervous laughter, but surprisingly the men stood by Cass Bowdre, leaving Pod Osteen furious. He glared at them all in surly silence, aware that Bowdre had once again bested him and unsure what he might do in retaliation.
Chapter 13
Two hours before sundown, Dallas and Kelly returned to their camp below the rim, and Dallas explained to Arlo his reasons for leaving their new purchases at Hoss’s cabin.
“Good thinking,” Arlo said. “We should have discussed that before you rode out. If they’re goin’ into the passages with ropes, it means they’ve reached that big hole above the underground river. Once they’ve crossed that, found nothing, and crossed it again, they’ll be ready to follow the main tunnel into the mountain. As soon as tomorrow, they could be in the shaft that’ll bring them to where we are right now. We don’t have any time to spare in getting out of here.”
“We’d better move on out and head for the cabin right now,” Dallas said. “The storm that’s on the way ought to be here sometime tonight, and it’ll eliminate our tracks.”
While the ride wasn’t a long one, Kelsey was gritting her teeth before they reached the cabin. Arlo helped the girl to dismount and got her inside.
“There’s only three bunks,” said Dallas, “but it’s not likely we’ll be here long enough for that to be a problem. The important th
ing is, we’ll have a roof over our heads. We’re goin’ to need it.”
Sundown was still an hour away, but the sun had slipped behind a growing mass of gray thunderheads and a cool west wind brought the feel of rain.
“Now that we’re out of the Superstitions,” Kelly said, “I feel kind of … well, free. I didn’t notice it too much while we were there, but it was like the mountains had some kind of control over us, some hold that was broken only by our leaving.”
“There is somethin’ about the Superstitions that draws you to them,” said Arlo. “Dallas and me never understood why Hoss went back again and again when he never found even a trace of color. I remember him sayin’ that you’re always a little uneasy, there in the Superstitions, but when you’re away from them, you miss them. Then, when you return, you’re never exactly sure as to why.”
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