Devil's Canyon (6 page)

Faro laughed. “A small victory for mankind. Rain could drive a man crazy, if there wasn't some escape from it. Even if it's only while he's eatin' his grub and drinkin' his coffee.”

They took the trail, with a chill wind from the west whipping rain into their faces and causing the mules to balk. The rain ceased after two hours, but ominous gray clouds hung low, blocking the sun. In their wet clothing, the wind seemed unseasonably cold. Not until late afternoon did the skies clear, allowing a timid sun to emerge. Levi Collins had ridden on ahead, and when he returned, he loped his horse alongside Faro's wagon.

“Up yonder, maybe three miles,” Collins said, “there's a broken ridge runnin' parallel to the Rio Chama. It'll shelter us from the wind. Might be a good place to hole up for the night and dry out.”

“
Bueno
,” said Faro. “Ride back and tell the others.”

The ridge provided welcome relief from the chill wind, and though it was still early, the teamsters unharnessed their teams. In the “possum bellies”—cowhides slung beneath each wagon—there was dry wood, and soon there was a roaring fire going. Men
gathered around, seeking to dry their sodden clothing before dark. It was as good a time as any for Faro to talk to them.

“Tonight—and every night from now on—the three of us who are sleeping will stay close to one another. No sleeping under different wagons. That attack on Collins last night might have been avoided, if Durham and me had been closer. From now on, we will be.”

“From what I've heard,” Durham said, “that won't stop Indians.”

“Indian trouble will come soon enough,” said Faro, “but our visitor last night wasn't an Indian. Instead of slugging Collins unconscious, an Indian would have slit his throat. We have white men—probably outlaws—stalking us.”

“That makes no sense,” Durham scoffed, “unless there's something far more valuable in these wagons than the supplies you loaded in Santa Fe.”

“What you've said makes even less sense,” said Dallas. “How does anybody learn what might be in the wagons by slugging Collins?”

“Well,” Durham said, “there's bills of lading, I suppose.”

“Yes,” said Collins, “and they're in my coat pocket, where they were last night. But I can assure you, there are no secrets to be found within them. You—or anyone else—had an opportunity to watch the wagons being loaded.”

Durham said no more, for he was treading on dangerous ground. During the day, he had studied the piece of ore he had taken from Collins, and even to his inexperienced eye, the threads of gold set his heart to
pounding. Now that he knew the secret purpose of the expedition, his devious mind began considering ways of dealing himself in, while eliminating Slade and his outlaw companions. Of necessity, Slade must be convinced these wagon loads of goods were to sustain some distant colony through the winter, and nothing more. The sooner Slade could be contacted and convinced of the futility of further pursuit, the more likely that he and his men would ride back to Santa Fe in search of other pickings. With that thought in mind, Durham made his first move right after supper.

“Durham,” said Faro, “where are you goin'?”

“Some private business,” Durham said, “before your shoot-anything-that-moves order kicks in at dark.”

“Risky, goin' out alone,” said Faro.

“Your concern is touching,” Durham said, “but if I needed one of you to go along and hold my hand, I'd have asked.”

“Ask and be-damned,” said Tarno Spangler. “None of us is that kind.”

The rest of them laughed, and Durham went on, satisfied that they wouldn't follow. Slade had come much closer to camp than Durham had expected, and when suddenly the outlaw appeared, Durham was startled.

“Well,” Slade demanded, “what have you learned?”

“Nothing of any interest to you,” said Durham, hoping he was lying convincingly. “All I've learned is that these supplies are for the winter, and that they're going to settlers in southern Utah. I've seen what's in the wagons, and there's nothing but some ammunition and grub.”

“You lie,” Slade snarled. “I had Withers watchin through a glass, and he seen cases of dynamite bein loaded. Enough dynamite to blow Utah into the Pacific Ocean.”

“Well, hell,” said Durham, “I wasn't there for the actual loading of the wagons. All I could do was look in through the puckers, and I couldn't afford to seem too interested.”

“You'd better
get
more interested, and you'd better do it quick,” Slade said. “There's more to this than supplies bein' hauled in for the winter. If you don't come up with some information we can use, we'll lay an ambush, gun everybody down, and figure it all out for ourselves.”

“And you'll learn nothing,” said Durham desperately. “If there's anything to be learned it'll have to come from them, but not if they're dead.”

“I'm not the patient kind,” Slade said, “especially when I think I'm bein' strung along. I don't make threats, either, so you can take what I said about that ambush as gospel. To the last man, Durham. By God, to the last man.”

Slade turned and walked away, the finality of his words ringing in Durham's ears. He had been told, in no uncertain terms, that if an ambush became necessary, he would die with the others. Durham fought down the tremors of fear that crept up his spine, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. He knew, as surely as if the outlaw had spoken the words aloud, that if he betrayed the valiant men with the wagons, he would never share any of the spoils. His reward would be a lead slug, probably in the back. It strengthened his
resolve, and as he made his way back to the wagons, his devious mind dealt him an inside straight. He would double-cross Slade, and his double-cross would be the granddaddy of them all.

Sante Fe, New Mexico. August 4, 1870
.

Mamie and Odessa McCutcheon had no difficulty discovering which way the wagons had gone. At the mercantile, they loaded their saddlebags with supplies. They then mounted their horses and rode northwest, along the Rio Chama.

“Five wagons,” Odessa said. “We're on the right trail.”

“That storekeeper was right helpful,” said Mamie. “He remembered them teamsters was needin' a fifth wagon. Just in time, with no mules or wagons for sale, they come up with one.”

“It's all the better for us,” Odessa said. “If Durham's throwed in with experienced teamsters, maybe the Indians won't burn our wagon and eat our mules.”

“What we don't know,” said Mamie, “is where these wagons are going. I can't imagine being stuck somewhere between here and California, in Indian country, with only Durham. Can you?”

Odessa sighed. “It
does
strain the imagination. I'm thinking, if these teamsters are fair men, they'll allow us to return with them to Santa Fe, bringing our mules and wagon. For that matter, perhaps we can sell the teams and wagon to them, for the thousand dollars we gave Durham.”

“Oh, God,” Mamie said, “to recover our mules and wagon, I hope we don't have to tell them
everything
.”

“That he compromised our honor, and that if he hadn't run out on us, we'd have willingly gone with him, allowing him to compromise it some more?”

“Especially
that
,” said Mamie. “Oh, what is that damnable fault in females that leads them to make fools of themselves over no-account men?”

“It goes with the territory,” Odessa said. “What
else
is a woman goin' to make a fool of herself over?”

They were only a few miles from town, when Odessa reined up.

“What is it?” Mamie asked.

“Tracks,” said Odessa. “Horse tracks.”

“Durham had a saddle horse,” Mamie said, “and it's likely tied behind the wagon. The other teamsters may have horses too.”

“No matter,” said Odessa. “There's tracks of four horses that are on top of all the other horse, mule, and wagon tracks. Four riders are followin' the freight wagons.”

“Not necessarily,” Mamie replied. “Since Durham took everything we had to give, you have become unnaturally suspicious.”

“Look at this ground,” said Odessa. “There are no permanent ruts, so this has never been a wagon road. There are no tracks except those made by the five wagons, their mule teams, the led horses, and the horses of the four riders following. Except for what we can see right now, there might not have been anybody through here for a hundred years.”

“So?” Mamie said. “That proves exactly what?”

“That these four horsemen didn't just
happen
this way,” said Odessa. “They're following the freight wagons.”

“Oh, damn it,” Mamie said, “you're impossible. I don't wish to discuss it further.”

“Have it your way,” said Odessa, “but I think those teamsters are about to encounter some unexpected trouble, and I won't be surprised if Hal Durham is neck-deep in it. Why else has he thrown in with them?”

“Oh, God, I don't know,” Mamie said, exasperated, “but I hope he has. Perhaps one of them will shoot him.”

*   *   *

“I laid it on the line to Durham,” Slade told his outlaw companions. “If he don't soon come up with some information we can use, we'll ambush the lot of them, and figure it all out for ourselves.”

“I think you just played hell,” said Hindes. “You're givin' Durham all the reasons he needs to double-cross us. Now he's likely to throw in with them teamsters, to save his own hide.”

“I got to agree with Hindes,” Withers said. “They ain't been on the trail long enough for Durham to learn much.”

“I'm agreein' with Hindes and Withers,” said Peeler. “Damn it, this was all your idea, plantin' Durham in their camp. Now that he's there, give him time to play out his hand. If he double-crosses us, we can shoot him when we bushwhack the others.”

“I'll buy that,” Kritzer said.

“So all of you are lined up against me,” said Slade
bitterly. “By God, we should have split up after Hindes shot that bank teller in Tucumcari.”

“We ain't wantin' to split up,” Withers said soothingly. “Hell, can't we disagree with you, without you wantin' to ride off and quit?”

“Yeah,” said Kritzer, “this is no time to fold. Usin' Durham may not be a bad idea, but you're goin' at it wrong.”

“Thanks,” Slade said. “Why don't
you
tell me how I should go at it?”

“I will,” said Kritzer defiantly. “After we hit that bank in Tucumcari, Durham saved our hides. You made him one of us, you been usin' him ever since, but you ain't promised him a damn thing.”

Hindes laughed. “Slade's promised to shoot him if he don't come through for us.”

“My point, exactly,” Kritzer said. “If a man's takin' a risk, he's got a right to expect some reward.”

“Yeah,” said Withers, “and bein' shot ain't exactly a reward.”

“I reckon I been overlookin' that,” Slade said. “I'll loosen the reins a mite, and maybe convince Durham he's one of us. We got just a little over two thousand dollars from that bank job in Tucumcari. Each of us would of had five hundred, but bein' fair, we got to cut Durham in. Five men thins the pot down to four hundred for each of us. Next time I meet Durham, I'll see that he gets his share.”

“What the hell?” Hindes bawled.

“That wasn't exactly what we had in mind,” said Peeler.

Withers and Kritzer said nothing. Slade laughed.

*   *   *

When Durham returned from his meeting with Slade, he looked grim. While nobody said anything, Shanghai, Tarno, and Dallas eyed the gambler suspiciously.

“Remember,” said Faro, “when you sleep, spread your blankets near one another. We don't know how soon the Utes will discover us, and I reckon they'd like nothing better than finding us sleeping under separate wagons.”

Faro had seen to it that the wagons were in the open, away from underbrush or trees that might leave them partially or fully in shadow. The three men on watch were moving constantly, coming together only occasionally for brief conversations. It was near midnight when Faro heard movement.

“Durham!”

“Damn it,” said the gambler, “I have a cramp in my leg. I need to stand.”

“Not near as bothersome as a bullet through the head,” Faro replied. “Stay put.”

“It's time for us to begin the second watch,” said Collins. “We might as well get up.”

“Please, Mr. Duval,” Durham said, “since I'm on second watch, is it all right if I get up, too?”

“Careful, Faro,” said Dallas. “Next thing, he'll be wantin' you to go to the bushes with him, and hold his hand.”

Shanghai and Tarno laughed.

“That's enough,” Faro said angrily. “The three of you get to your bedrolls. Durham, you get the hell out of yours.”

“Yes, Daddy,” said Durham meekly.

Faro silently cursed Durham for his sarcasm, and his three companions for using it as a source of cowboy humor. He barely spoke to Collins or Durham throughout the second watch, as he wrestled with a troublesome question. What
was
Hal Durham's game?

*   *   *

Fortunately for Slade and his companions, they made their camp well away from the river, in the surrounding brush. Being in no hurry, lest they catch up to the wagons, they slept well past dawn. So it was that when they heard approaching horses, they hadn't yet started their breakfast fire. They watched from cover as Mamie and Odessa McCutcheon rode past, obviously following the wagons. Suddenly, Odessa reined up. When she spoke, they heard her clearly.

“Them four varmints that was followin' the wagons has left us.”

“Like I told you,” Mamie said, “they likely wasn't followin' the wagons at all. They just turned off somewhere and went their way.”