Sierra Six-Guns

by Jon Sharpe

  “Then why the hell are you arguing? Fetch a lantern and I’ll show you where they took her.”

  “They who?”

  “The lantern, damn it.”

  “All right, all right. I’ll be right back.” James hurried off, saying over his shoulder, “But if this is a trick you’ll regret it. I’m not someone you want to trifle with.”

  Fargo wondered why it was that so many dandies were so full of themselves. Harker and Landreth acted tough but they wouldn’t last two seconds against an Apache or Comanche out to slit their throats. They were baby chicks pretending to be roosters. Put them in the wild without food and water and they would die within a week.

  Up the street, Moon had just come out of the general store, Tucker and Beck in his wake. They saw James and moved to meet him.

  Fargo decided not to wait. Going back in, he went down the hall to the kitchen. It was there that the dank smell was strongest. He began to thump the floor with his boot. He was near the stove when a thump rang hollow. A few more thumps and he dropped to his hands and knees and pried at the boards with his fingers. It took some doing. The trapdoor fit snugly but he lifted it out and set it down. From below came the musty odor of dirt. He lowered his legs and felt the rungs of a ladder. Carefully applying his full weight, he descended below the floor, reached up, and pulled the trapdoor shut after him.

  He’d changed his mind. He would do better alone. James would be next to worthless and would only give them away.

  Light bathed the cracks above him.

  “He’s not here,” James said.

  “Now the scout has up and vanished.” That was Moon.

  “I don’t understand it. I think he had figured something out. He talked as if he knew where Esther is.”

  “Maybe he wanted to be shed of you.” This time it was Conklin. “He tricked you into going for a lantern and you fell for it.”

  “What now, gentlemen?” James said. “I am open to suggestions.”

  “You should go check on your pard and that blond gal,” Moon suggested. “We’ll be along in a minute.”

  Shoes scraped but stopped short of the hallway. “Before I go, Mr. Moon, I must say how disappointed I am in your choice of a place to hide until the ransom arrives. Kill Creek, indeed. We’ve had nothing but trouble from the moment we got here.” The shoes scraped away.

  “You should let me shoot him,” Conklin said.

  “Not until his man shows up with the money.”

  Tucker asked, “What do you make of what’s been goin’ on? Why Shorty, for God’s sake?”

  “You know who did it as well as I do. She said she could keep him under control but she can’t.”

  “We never should have trusted her,” Beck said, then blurted, “Hold on! Don’t get mad. I didn’t mean anything. I know how powerful fond you are of her.”

  “Shut the hell up and let’s go.”

  The light dimmed and Fargo was left in black darkness. He pushed on the trapdoor but it wouldn’t budge. He pushed again, harder. It felt as if it was caught somehow. He braced his shoulder and was set to exert all his strength when a rustling sound set his skin to crawling.

  Something, or someone, was below him.

  12

  Skye Fargo listened with held breath to the rustling, which grew louder and then stopped directly under him. He swore he could hear heavy breathing. He imagined that whoever or whatever it was knew he was there and he firmed his grip on the Henry. After what seemed an eternity of suspense, the rustling resumed, and it and the heavy breathing faded away.

  Fargo waited a minute to be sure, then lowered one boot and then the other, testing each rung. At last his feet came down on solid ground. He groped and found an earthen wall. He had a choice of two directions and went in the direction the rustling had gone.

  Kill Creek sat on top of a mine. Fargo could recollect two or three similar instances, including one in the Rockies west of Denver where several buildings buckled when the mine shaft under them collapsed.

  How extensive these tunnels were, he couldn’t say. He reckoned they ran the length of the town, if not longer, and there must be branches here and there where veins of ore had been followed until they petered out.

  He was annoyed at himself for not figuring it out sooner. It should have dawned on him that given that Kill Creek was built during the gold rush, there might be a mine. He’d taken it for granted that the diggings at the bluffs were the reason for the town’s existence.

  Fargo went slowly. He didn’t care to stumble on whoever or whatever had passed by earlier. His eyes adjusted enough that the walls were outlines against the black. He kept his left hand on the left wall as he went, and suddenly his fingers came on empty space. He was at a fork. If his sense of direction wasn’t completely askew, the new branch led toward the diggings. He took it and soon the tunnel narrowed and the ceiling lowered to where his hat scraped. He was about to turn back when an acrid scent tingled his nose. A few yards more and he detected a pale patch up ahead.

  Light.

  Fargo slowed. He had to crouch to avoid having his hat knocked off. Another forty feet and the passage curved. He peered past the bend and saw a lantern hanging on a peg. He also heard voices.

  Fargo crept forward. He reminded himself that it wasn’t just the man in the hood he had to watch out for. There was Maxine, mad over the death of her dog, and the other three mastiffs. If they cornered him down there, he would be hard-pressed to survive.

  There were two voices, and both were female. He recognized one and then the other. They came from the left, from another branch, he thought, but it was a chamber. Crouching, he took off his hat and put his eye to the opening. He wanted to hear what they said.

  The chamber was roughly oval and about ten feet across. A lantern over on the far wall glowed bright. Huddled on her knees, bound ankles and wrist, was Esther Mindel. Her sheer robe was torn, exposing a creamy thigh, and she was streaked with dirt and grime, as if she had been dragged. She was glaring at the woman pacing back and forth in front of her and saying, “What do you hope to get out of this? It’s horrid, what you’ve done.”

  Serilda stopped pacing and faced her. “I didn’t do it. He did.”

  “Who is he, anyway? I’ve never seen anyone so hideous.”

  “He’s my pa.”

  “Good Lord. How did it happen? What could have caused him to be the way he is?”

  “I’m not here to talk about him. I came to decide whether I’ll help you or not.”

  “Why wouldn’t you?” Esther anxiously asked. “If you have a shred of human decency—”

  Serilda held up a hand. “Stop right there. Don’t pretend you’re any better than me when you’re not. I know the truth about you.”

  “Oh?”

  “About your plan to steal money from your folks. Half a million dollars for you and your lover to live in luxury the rest of your lives.” Serilda shook her head. “At least my pa has an excuse. What’s yours?”

  “Where did you hear so fabulous a tale? It’s absurd.”

  “Don’t insult me,” Serilda said. “I know it’s true and so do you. It’s the reason you and your friends are here. But you didn’t count on this, did you? You didn’t count on being betrayed.”

  Esther rose straighter. “Betrayed? By whom?”

  “It’s not important now. What matters is: do I help you live or leave you here to die?”

  “Your father intends to kill me?”

  “I’m surprised he hasn’t already. He’s killed one of the others. Ripped the man’s head clean off.”

  “Oh, God. It wasn’t James, was it? James Harker? Do you know who he is? Please tell me he’s still alive.”

  “Relax. Your lover is fine. My pa killed one of the men James hired to help him.”

  “Why?”

  Serilda didn’t answer. She resumed her pacing again and said, “What to do? What to do? Do I let him bash your brains out or wring your neck or do I save you from your own folly?”


  “I’ve done nothing to deserve this. I’ve never hurt you or your family. What does your father have against me, anyway?”

  “You haven’t paid attention. Maxine struck the deal. But she should have known. She can’t control him. No one can. Not when it comes to this mine.”

  “You’re not making any sense. Who’s Maxine?”

  Fargo glanced back down the passage to be sure no one or nothing was sneaking up on him.

  “Most folks would say that neither of them are in their right mind,” Serilda had continued. “He kills most everyone who comes here, which is why I try to warn them off. Those he doesn’t kill, she usually sets her pack on.”

  “She who? Maxine?”

  “You haven’t met her yet. She’s off burying one of her precious dogs. You’re lucky. She has a different reason for wanting you dead, and she will kill you quicker.”

  “Please. What are you talking about?” Esther shifted. “Cut me free. I’ll get the others and be gone as quickly as they can hitch the team to the stagecoach.”

  Serilda looked at her. “What about the money? You’ll just up and leave and give it up after all the trouble you’ve gone to?”

  “My life is more important.”

  “I wish I could believe that. But I suspect what you’ll really do is try to convince your lover and the others to come down here and kill off me and my family. I can’t have that. They’ve done a lot of bad things but they’re still my pa and my sister.”

  “I give you my word. I’ll leave Kill Creek and take everyone else with me. As God is my witness.”

  “Ah,” Serilda said.

  “Wait. What does that mean?”

  Serilda said rather sadly, “It means I don’t have a choice. You think that you’re in control but you’re not. Your darling James and his friend . . .” She paused. “What’s his name again? The one who carries a cane?”

  “Roy Landreth.”

  “They’re in over their heads. It would have been better for all of you if you hadn’t come up with your brainstorm.” Serilda turned to leave but stopped at a question from Esther.

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  Fargo saw a hurt expression come over Serilda. She didn’t turn to face Esther as she said, “Once. Years ago. I was very young and there was this boy I was fond of. I reckon it’s not love in the way you mean but I cared for him with all my heart, just the same.”

  “Where is he now?”

  Serilda closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Dead.”

  “You know what love is, then. How when you care for someone you’ll do anything for them. My father and mother disapprove of James. They don’t want me to have anything to do with him. But I love him. I can’t leave him any more than I can stop breathing. So, yes, I came up with the idea of being held for ransom so that he and I can go off and live the rest of our lives together. Is that so bad?”

  Serilda gazed over her shoulder. “Ever been where there is snow?”

  “Plenty of times. Why?”

  “When you stand at the top of a hill and pack snow into a ball and set it rolling, it doesn’t always roll in a straight line.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “That you set a snowball to rolling and now it is going where it wants and there is nothing you can do to stop it.”

  Esther swore. “You keep confusing the hell out of me. You say your father and sister aren’t in their right mind, but if you ask me, neither are you.”

  “You make it easy,” Serilda said.

  Putting his hat back on, Fargo waited until she was almost to the opening before he stepped into it with the Henry pointed at her belly. “Afraid not.”

  Serilda’s hand flicked at the Smith and Wesson stuck in the top of her britches.

  “Don’t be stupid.”

  “You’d shoot me after all I’ve done to help you?”

  “I’ll shoot anyone who tries to shoot me.” Fargo reached out and relieved her of the six-gun. He motioned for her to back away and she complied, raising her hands.

  “How did you get down here?”

  “I fell down a badger hole.” Fargo kept motioning and she kept backing up until they came to the other side. “Untie her.”

  Esther was beaming. “Thank God. I was beginning to think no one would find me. Is James with you?”

  “He’s off fighting rabbits.” Fargo thumbed back the Smith and Wesson’s hammer. “I won’t tell you twice, Serilda.”

  With surprising calm, she responded, “You squeeze that trigger and my pa and my sister will hear and come on the run. You don’t want that.”

  “Hell, I don’t want any part of any of this mess,” Fargo said. “But your sister took my horse and your pa tried to kill me so I’m in it whether I want to be or not.”

  “You won’t shoot me. Not an unarmed female, you won’t.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “I’m a good judge of character. I can see it in your eyes. You’re not a cold-blooded killer.”

  “Maybe I’m not. But I’ll sure as hell rap you over the noggin if you don’t do as I say.” Fargo was keenly aware that her father or Maxine and the mastiffs could show up at any moment.

  Serilda squatted and pried at the knots. “My pa tied these awful tight. I could do it faster if I had a knife.”

  “I have one.” Fargo bent to palm the toothpick. Too late, he glimpsed Serilda’s hand sweep up and out. He tried to dodge but was struck full in the face by the handful of dirt she had scooped up. Dirt got into his eyes, into his nose, into his mouth. He coughed and blinked and backpedaled in case she came at him.

  “She’s getting away!” Esther cried.

  Fargo’s vision cleared in time for him to see Serilda dart into the tunnel, taking the lantern with her. He gave chase, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. She looked back and laughed and dashed the lantern to the ground. There was a shower of sparks and puffs of smoke and the tunnel was plunged in darkness.

  Her feet pattered off.

  “Damn.” Fargo tucked the Smith and Wesson under his belt and hurried back. He crossed to where Esther was on her side, furiously struggling to break free.

  “Did you stop her?”

  “She got away.”

  “You’re next to worthless,” Esther criticized without slackening her effort. “Now she’ll tell that lunatic pa of hers and we’ll be lucky to make it to the surface alive.”

  Fargo drew the Arkansas toothpick. He was about to cut the rope around her ankle when seemingly from the bowels of the earth wafted a piercing howl.

  “Did you hear that?”

  “My ears work fine.” Fargo slashed the rope and raised the knife to free her wrists.

  “Hurry. You must take me to James. I’ll tell him about these shafts and he can come down and wipe these lunatics out.”

  Fargo held the toothpick poised to slice. “The best thing to do is to leave Kill Creek.”

  “I can’t do that and I suspect you know it. Now hurry, damn it, before it’s too late.”

  It already was.

  From the tunnel came a growl.

  13

  Fargo whirled. He thought it was a dog. But then he saw the figure hunched over in the opening. Its size, the fact it was on two legs, the suggestion of a frock and a hood—he jammed the Henry to his shoulder.

  Esther screamed.

  The figure sprang from sight. Fargo started to go after it but Esther screeched his name in stark fear.

  “Wait! Don’t leave me!”

  Reluctantly, Fargo returned to her side. He cut the last rope and helped her to stand.

  “That monster tied me so tight, he cut off the blood.” Esther rubbed her wrists and said gratefully, “Thank goodness you came along when you did. You have to get me out of here.”

  “Was that who brought you down here?”

  “Yes. I was sleeping and felt something over my mouth. I woke up to find him carrying me as easily as I might carry a flower. He’s hugely strong, that
monster.”

  “Why do you keep calling him that?”

  “You haven’t seen his face yet or you wouldn’t ask. I swear. He’s so grotesque, he turns your stomach.” She started to go past him but he held out an arm.

  “I should go first. I have the guns.”

  “I want a weapon too. Don’t worry. My father made me go quail and rabbit hunting with him when I was a girl. I hated it but I learned to shoot.”

  Fargo was about to say no but at close range the Colt was lethal as the Henry. He held out the rifle.

  “Thanks.” Esther took it and pressed the stock to her shoulder. “It’s heavier than I expected.” She gripped the lever as if to work it.

  “There’s already one in the chamber.” Fargo moved to the opening and peered out. As near as he could tell, the tunnel was empty.

  “Which way?” Esther asked. “I was so scared when he carried me down here that I didn’t pay much attention.”

  Fargo debated. If they went right it would take them the way he had come. He should be able to find his way back to the ladder he had used but the trapdoor was stuck. There were bound to be others, so he went left.

  Esther walked so close, she brushed his back with every step. “Do you hear anything?” she nervously whispered.

  “I might if you hush up.”

  “Sorry. I’m scared.”

  Fargo didn’t blame her. He was on edge too. He went slowly, the dark pressing in on them. Presently they came to a bend and had another choice to make.

  “These damn tunnels go on forever,” Esther remarked. “We could wander around here for a year and not find our way out.”

  “I doubt that.” Fargo faced to the right and then the left. From the left came a suggestion of breeze. Left it was. He took a step and was bumped hard in the back.

  “Sorry.”

  “You need to calm down.”

  “Fat chance. I’ve always prided myself on my self-control but I’ve never been through anything like this. Ironic, isn’t it? There wasn’t supposed to be anyone here. Moon assured us there wasn’t.”

  “He did, did he?”

  “Yes. It was his idea to come to Kill Creek. He said we would be safe, that no one would think to look for us here. He and his men even covered the stage tracks with brush and whatnot to be sure no one could track us.”