Madigan

by R. Howard Trembly

  His hair was light brown, almost blond, and was cut short and well-trimmed compared to other cowboys she’d seen, certainly much shorter than most Indians wore their hair. His face was an honest face with strong, yet somehow gentle features. He was well muscled and there was a confidence about him she could not remember seeing in any other man. If anyone was able to help her people, it would be this man.

  She was happy to see he moved with an ease and grace not often seen in big men. It also showed his wound was healing fast. The gun hung low on his hip did not escape her notice either.

  After hearing Mila’s story and giving her and her two friends food and drink, LaRue, Shorty, and Madigan made quick plans to follow Mila back to the hidden valley.

  Mila told them that they were the first white men to ever enter the valley by invitation, and Madigan wished it weren’t for the job at hand. She also said the leader of the outlaws was none other than Harry O’Neill.

  At O’Neill’s name, Shorty suddenly remarked, “I should have killed that maggot back when I had the chance!” About now, they all wished he had. No one needed to tell them O’Neill was a violent and vicious man, one who’d stop at nothing to get what he wanted, even if it took killing every man, woman, and child in his way.

  Seeing Mila again and remembering how Lewana affected him with her even greater beauty made Madigan’s task at hand more urgent. They all knew that O’Neill might kill the men and children at the drop of a hat, but the women would be another matter altogether.

  O’Neill was a convicted rapist. Now given the freedom to do whatever he wanted, he would make it a living hell for any woman he wanted.

  Madigan’s blood ran cold with the thought of Lewana falling prey to O’Neill’s evil desires.

  Chapter 16

  By the time they all saddled up, the sun was almost down, leaving growing shadows in its wake. In a strange sort of way, Madigan felt good about finally having a showdown with O’Neill, and he suspected LaRue and Shorty felt the same.

  Each of them had their own reasons for wanting to be done with this troublesome rogue that had hurt so many, and as they rode out it was as if three knights in shining armor were going off to the Crusades. But there would be no glory in what they intended to do, only death.

  As they rode, Madigan held his Winchester across his lap while the Sharps filled the rifle boot. He was glad to have replaced the lever bolt with a spare one LaRue had given him. Before leaving, he had made sure there was ample ammunition for both.

  “You think you’ll need that?” LaRue asked, nodding toward the Sharps as he prodded his horse up alongside Madigan.

  “Hope not, but I’ve always kind’ve like the gun, and we may need the range, from what Mila tells us. If O’Neill’s holed up at any distance, the Sharps might give us the edge we need.”

  “See what you mean. But are you up to firing that thing? I shot one of them once, and it almost knocked me on my butt,” LaRue said, grinning at the experience he remembered.

  It was a good question and one Madigan had asked himself several times since riding out. “I won’t know the answer to that until I’ve pulled the trigger,” he answered. “If we’re lucky, we won’t have to find out.” Still, Madigan wondered about it himself. His wound was healing fast, but it would be some time before he felt like his old self again.

  As they rode along, Mila told them about the cave that was the entrance to the hidden valley. She also told the men of its dangers to the uninitiated. But as she explained later, they would not have to worry about the tunnel or its traps, for they would get into the valley as she and her comrades had come out.

  Upon questioning her further, she explained, “We waited until Lewana had the attention of O’Neill and his men, then we slipped quickly up a narrow foot trail to the top of the rim. From there, we followed the trail across the top of the rim some five hundred yards to the outer edge where it dropped down the side of the rock face to a ledge a hundred feet above the outer floor.

  “Lowering a rope ladder, which was kept there for such a purpose, we climbed down the rest of the way and walked to the cabin.”

  Lewana had placed herself in grave peril to try to save her people. And at the thought of O’Neill touching her, a rage came up within Madigan that turned his blood cold. Then just as suddenly, he came to the realization that he was in love with Lewana! He had only met her twice, but it was enough.

  He’d heard of people falling in love at first sight but didn’t think it possible. Never had it occurred to Madigan before that he could be in love with her, or anyone for that matter.

  But it was true! Since their first meeting he often thought of her and it always gave him a warm feeling inside. But love her! It had taken the thought of her in another man’s arms to make Madigan see the truth. Now more than ever, he had to save her or die trying!

  By the time they arrived at the spot where they would make camp, it was well after dark, and although Madigan wanted desperately to go on, there was nothing more they could do until daylight. It would be impossible to follow the ledge up the side of the cliff with no light to see by. They built a small fire, and unrolled their bedrolls out in the shadows at the base of the cliff.

  Only men new to the West ever slept close to the fire. The firelight not only blinded those too close to it, but also let anyone coming up on the camp see without being seen.

  Morning came with the first gray dawn breaking into the blazing light of the desert sun. By the time the rocks began to warm, they were already high on the cliff above their camp carrying their packs along a narrow trail cut into the side of the shear wall.

  As he walked along, Madigan noticed that in places the trail was cut out of the solid stone face of the cliff. Yet weathered as it was, it seemed like it had been done by nature.

  “How did your people find this trail?”

  Mila smiled as though reading Madigan’s thoughts. “You mean how old is this trail, don’t you? My people cut this and several more over four hundred years ago, when they first came to the hidden valley.

  “They were running from the Spaniards that came and destroyed our people’s homes many miles to the south of here. Our people were very rich with gold and jewels, and the Spanish wanted all the wealth for themselves.

  “The people tried at first to fight them, but more and more Spanish came from the sea. We had many warriors in those days, numbering into the many thousands, whereas the Spanish had only a few hundred at first.

  “Yet, the Spanish wore armor and used cannons and guns. We used only clubs and swords made of wood. Many of our people would die at each attack while only wounding a few of the Spanish, and the fighting went on for many days.

  “Finally when our leader saw that it was useless to fight, he tried to reason with the Spanish. For a while it worked, then the priest stirred up the people. Our leader was killed by one of our own warriors as he stood on a porch beside the Spanish leader.

  “The priest said it was a mistake, that the warrior who shot the arrow was trying to kill the Spanish general. We knew he lied. So in the night, several thousand of our people took what gold they could carry and started to the north after burying all the rest of the gold and jewels they could lay their hands on.”

  “You mean the Spanish hadn’t gotten all the gold yet?” LaRue asked.

  “No, they thought they had most of it, but they only were in possession of a small portion. Most of the gold and jewels was hidden when the first Spanish ship was sighted in the bay. It was the keepers of this treasure that were the forbearers of us in the valley.

  “There had been a prophecy that foretold of the coming of the Spanish, so our people prepared themselves accordingly. It is the gold they brought here to the valley that O’Neill is after, and we will give it to him to save our Queen’s life, if that’s what it takes.”

  So the truth was out. Lewana was not only their leader, she was their queen! Madigan felt himself go sick in the stomach. The woman he was in love with was a queen,
and for all Madigan knew about queens, she would not be allowed to marry a commoner.

  And, Madigan reflected, that was exactly what he was to these people-a commoner, and not even of her own blood. Yet, this knowledge did not alter the fact that he was deeply in love with Lewana and that she was in danger.

  Soon they were at the top of the cliff, the climb taking the better part of an hour, with the heavy packs they all carried on their backs. As Madigan looked to the east, he was blinded by the sun just barely creeping over the rim of the plateau. If they hurried, they could get to a position on the east side of the rim and be able to scout the valley below with the sun at their backs. They would have to plan on just the right moment so that the sun blinded the men below.

  Madigan’s first plan of action was to get the men on the ledge up to safety, and to this end he had the rope ladder carried to the top with them. He’d figured they’d better move fast as the sun climbed rapidly in the morning sky, and much would depend on the outlaws not being able to see the warriors climb up the ladder to safety.

  Madigan’s first sight of the hidden valley was one of awe. They were lying on their stomachs at the edge of the rim with the sun behind them, below was the ledge on which the Indians were trapped, and beyond was the fountain with O’Neill’s camp spread around it.

  Beyond that was the village of white buildings standing brilliant in the first rays of the morning sun. One building stood out from the rest, and this, Mila told Madigan, was the repository of the treasure of her ancestors. This building was much larger than all the others and on its walls hung great disks of gleaming gold.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he motioned the man with the rope ladder forward. “We must hurry to get the stranded men off the ledge before the sun climbs much higher and gives away our protective shield of light,” Madigan whispered to him.

  In a matter of seconds they tied the ladder to a huge rock and lowered the other end to the ledge below. Quickly the Indian climbed down to the ledge to inform those below what was at hand and to help any man too weak to make it by himself.

  Thinking of the terrible thirst these men must have endured, Madigan sent a second Indian down with several canteens of water. Soon the trapped men started the climb up to freedom.

  Madigan was so intent on getting the men off the ledge that he hadn’t taken time to scout for signs of Lewana. As the last man came up over the edge, the ladder was quickly pulled up after him so as to leave no evidence of the rescue. No need to alert O’Neill to their presence before they were ready, Madigan thought.

  Carefully moving into the shadow of the boulder, Madigan raised his field glasses and took a good look around. To his shock, he saw Lewana lying on the ground by the fountain. His heart leaped with the sight of her lying there, quickly followed by suppressed anger at the men who held her prisoner.

  Lewana and Madigan were separated by only a few hundred yards, yet it might as well have been miles, for all the help he could give her. He couldn’t even tell if she was dead or alive.

  Lewana lay where she had fallen. The morning sun beat hot on her back but she did not move, for to do so would give away the fact that she was no longer unconscious. Her hands and feet were bound and she could not tell whether she was being watched. She was surprised to find that she had been unconscious all night.

  Somewhere behind her she heard the sound of men working, the sound of heavy canvas being dragged along the ground. Was even now O’Neill standing over her waiting for her to come around?

  Overhead an eagle soared in ever-widening circles, a silent bystander to the drama below. A warm breeze blew gently through her hair, bringing with it the odor of half a dozen men soiled from days in the saddle.

  Her hands ached from being tied behind her back and she was stiff from lying still, yet her mind was alert, searching for any possible way to escape. Was the tall man out there close by ready to help when the opportunity presented itself? It did not occur to Lewana that he might not come. She only knew that he must come, for her people’s very lives depended on him and she could not believe anything else.

  Behind her a man coughed and footsteps came closer.

  “I seen you with your eyes open,” a voice said. “Maybe you can use some water. Don’t worry about O’Neill seeing you drink. He’s still in his blankets. It’ll be our little secret.”

  The thin man squatted down beside her and rolled her gently on her side. Holding her head so she could drink, he offered the tin cup up to her lips. The water tasted cool as it trickled down her dry throat and she drank slowly so as not to waste any. She was in mid-swallow when to her shock she felt his hand slide down the front of her shirt and take hold of her breast. She tried to roll away but he dropped the tin cup in the dirt and grabbed her with his free hand.

  Terrified, she started to scream, then a thought struck her. “If you don’t get away from me and stay away, I’ll tell O’Neill what you are doing, and that you told me you plan to kill him when his back is turned so you can have me for yourself!”

  The man’s hand froze. “What makes you think he’ll believe you?”

  The man was right, but Lewana had no choice but to go on with the bluff. “Maybe he won’t.” She raised her eyes to meet his. “But shall we find out?” she said defiantly.

  “Look, ma’am, I didn’t mean you no harm,” he said as he withdrew his hand. “I don’t know what got into me. You being such a pretty woman and all, I just lost my head for a moment, that’s all. You got to believe me! I didn’t mean you no harm, honest!”

  Lewana was about to demand him to leave when she got another idea. “I’ll make a deal with you,” she began. “You bring me some more water whenever you can without O’Neill seeing you and I’ll keep quiet about what happened. If I get thirsty, I tell everything. Understand?”

  The thin man looked away from her. “Understood,” he replied. “I’ll bring you more water now before O’Neill gets out of the sack,” he said as he came to his feet and walked off.

  The thin man remembered vividly the fate of Warren Elegant, and knew full well he’d receive the same if O’Neill even thought he was trying to pull something behind his back.

  For the moment Lewana was safe, but there was no way of telling what would happen when O’Neill got up.

  Looking the scene before him over very carefully, Madigan assessed the situation. Lewana was held captive directly in front of him. To his right was the entrance to the tunnel that was now blocked by a boulder, keeping O’Neill, his men, and the Indians trapped also.

  To Madigan’s left stood the Indian village. Encircling this valley were shear rock cliffs, and Madigan and his friends were on top of those cliffs.

  Any animal is more dangerous when trapped, and O’Neill was no exception. So the first thing to be done was give O’Neill an escape route, and that meant removing the boulder from the cave’s mouth. They had enough blasting powder to do the job; only trouble was, if they set the charge inside the cave, it might bring down the roof.

  There was only one thing to do and that was to set the charge in such a way as to roll the rock to the side. Of course, it was easier said than done. Someone would have to crawl under the edge of the boulder and place the charge just right. And they had no way of knowing if there was even room for a man to get it under the boulder. A further problem was the fact that if there was room enough, it might expose the person to rifle fire. A bullet didn’t take much room to kill.

  After talking it over with LaRue and Shorty, it was decided that Shorty would have the best chance of pulling it off. LaRue and Madigan were just too darn big for the job, but it didn’t make either of them feel any better about having to send their friend to do the dangerous work.

  “We’ll keep them so occupied they won’t even know you’re around!” LaRue promised. For Madigan’s part, it was the first time in his life he’d wished he wasn’t so damn large.

  Madigan gave Shorty enough fuse so he’d have at least ten minutes to get out once he struck a
match to it, then took an old axle grease can, wiped it clean so it wouldn’t foul the powder, and packed it to the brim with blasting powder.

  After packing it, he secured the lip and punched a hole just large enough for the fuse and wrapped the whole affair with rope to make it into the neatest little bomb you ever saw.

  Soon Shorty was on his way down the outer wall with Mila and one of the warriors leading the way. They figured it’d take three hours before Shorty could get to the inside of the boulder, so Madigan and LaRue sat down to wait, each of them lost in his own thoughts. The biggest one on Madigan’s mind was whether he would be able to save Lewana in time.

  Several times he checked on Lewana, his heart aching at the thought of her lying there, possibly hurt. Oh, how he wanted to lay waste to the men that held her captive.

  “You think Shorty will be able to get the can far enough under the rock to move it out of the way?” LaRue asked after a while.

  Madigan picked up his binoculars and took a long, hard look at the boulder below.

  “From what I can see from here, there seems to be a little room under the north end of it. Might just be room to get the charge in the right place. If we’re lucky,” he added.

  The hours dragged on slowly and Madigan wanted desperately to know how Lewana was doing. He would have given anything to speed the time up.

  He was just taking a slow drink of water, letting it trickle down his throat when movement from below caught Madigan’s eye. Rolling out of his blankets was the unmistakable image of Harry O’Neill, his snowy white hair standing out like a beacon in the night.

  A fleeting thought ran through Madigan’s mind upon seeing him. Just one shot and O’Neill would be no more, just a hunk of dead flesh rotting in the sun, meat for the vultures to feast on. Nothing more, nothing less.