Skeleton Lode (10 page)

“Wouldn’t they, though?” said Davis with a nasty laugh. “Spend their days huntin’ gold, with a pair of hot-blooded chippies to warm their blankets at night.”

“Gary Davis,” Kelly cried, “you’re a filthy brute.”

“I can testify to that,” said Paulette.

“Nobody cares a damn about your testifying, the kind of example you’ve set,” Davis said. “Old Jed had you figured out, and for once in his miserable life, he was right.”

R. J. Bollinger laughed. Disgusted, Barry Rust walked away into the night.

Within the cavern at the foot of the mountain, Yavapai and Sanchez soon had a supper fire going. They had used
this hideout before, and they’d laid in a good supply of wood. The men from town had brought an ample supply of whiskey, and already some of them were drunk and quarrelsome. Two men had lit a pine pitch torch from the fire and were headed toward the dark corridor that led further into the mountain.

“Do not go into the passage,” Sanchez warned. But they ignored him and went on.

“Foolish
gringos,”
said Yavapai in disgust.

The curious pair, Ed Carney and Hamp Evers, soon decided they’d had more than enough of the dark passage, which had begun to seem endless. Their torch had begun to burn short, and their whiskey courage was wearing thin.

Soon after they turned back, they reached a point where the passage split. “Didn’t seem like we’d come this far,” said Ed nervously. “Which one of these forks takes us back the way we come?”

“Left,” Hamp said. “I think.”

They took the left fork, hoping at any moment to see the welcome glow of fire in the big cavern where their comrades waited. But there was only darkness and a constant dripping of water that seemed ominously loud in the silence.

“Oh, God,” Ed groaned, “our light ain’t goin’ to last but a few more minutes. We got to move faster.”

But the stone floor was wet and slippery, and as they tried to hurry, they almost fell. Suddenly, in the darkness ahead, moving toward them, a bobbing light appeared. They froze in their tracks. As the light came nearer, it became a grinning, glowing skull—a death’s head! On it came, bodiless, floating hideously down the dark passage. Terrified, they turned to run, stumbling into another passage. Carney dropped what remained of the torch, and they were left in total, terrible darkness. Evers slipped and fell to hands and knees, and Carney fell over him. The pair staggered to their feet and stumbled on. Their screams, magnified by echo, seemed all the more terrible to their own ears. Suddenly the slippery stone
floor vanished and they were falling! Now their cries were torn from their throats by the rush of wind and lost in the roar of a turbulent stream far below. But the men never felt the icy water, for they slammed into jagged rocks along the way, and their mangled bodies were claimed by a whirlpool that sucked them into the very bowels of the earth.

“God Almighty!” shouted one of the comrades of the doomed men back at the camp. “What was
that
?

The anguished screams seemed to have come from the very pit of hell. Instantly thirteen men were on their feet, looking fearfully toward the pitch-black passage that led from their cavern into the mountain.

“Ed an’ Hamp ain’t here,” said one of the party.

“Mebbe they went outside,” another suggested.

“No, Señor,” said Sanchez, pointing toward the dark passage. “They go into the mountain, and the mountain take them. They do not return forever.”

“Hell,” shouted one of the men, “I ain’t believin’ that. They’re lost in that damned tunnel, and we got to go look for ’em. Jake, Monk, Shando …”

But the men hesitated. Chills crept up their spines and the hairs on the backs of their necks vibrated like tuning forks. The horrible screams they had heard had come from the throats of men who had just been dealt their final hand. Silently the remaining men turned questioning eyes to Yavapai and Sanchez.

“The Apache say the Thunder God live within the mountain,” said Yavapai. “To tempt him is to die. Yavapai and Sanchez bring you here only to escape the storm. Do not take the passage into the belly of the mountain, or you will die, as your
amigos
have.”

“I ain’t stayin’ another minute in this damn mountain,” said one of the men.

The sentiment was quickly echoed by the rest of them. Grabbing their saddles, their bedrolls, and their packs, the thirteen men left the cavern, wading the stream that ran through the passage to the outside. Beneath the overhang, Gary Davis threw off his blankets and sat up, wondering
at the exodus after dark. With the storm past, starlight and a quarter moon bathed the canyon in an eerie light. Yavapai and Sanchez were the last to leave the cavern. Davis got to his feet and approached them.

“Since your bunch is movin’ out, you got any objection if we move in?”

“None, Señor,” said Yavapai.

Uncertainly, Davis watched the two Mexicans follow their companions down the canyon, where the lot of them made camp for the night.

“Come on,” Davis told his outfit. “We’re gettin’ a roof over our heads.”

“There must be some reason for that bunch moving out of such a shelter,” said Rust. “You think it’s wise, us going in without knowing why they didn’t stay?”

“Who cares?” Davis said. “Maybe they only wanted shelter from the storm.”

Davis went in first and stirred up the fire so they had some light. Once Paulette, Kelly, and Kelsey were inside, Davis turned to Bollinger and Rust.

“Now we’ll go get our bedrolls, packs, and saddles.”

While the three men were outside, Paulette, Kelly, and Kelsey looked around. Light from the fire barely reached the dark maw of the passage at the back of the cavern.

“It’s spooky in here,” Kelly said. “I don’t blame those men for leaving.”

As though in response to her words, there came a moaning from somewhere within the mountain.

“The Thunder God,” whispered Kelsey. “Uncle Henry told us about him.”

“Nonsense,” Paulette said. “Henry Logan was a superstitious old fool. What you’re hearing is only the wind blowing through the tunnel.”

But from within the dark passage, eyes looked out into the cavern. Eyes that ignored Paulette Davis and focused on Kelly and Kelsey Logan as they moved about in the dim light from the flickering fire.

* * *

Arlo and Dallas arose early, thinking it unusual that Paiute still slept.

“No graze for the horses and mules last night,” Arlo said, “so we’ll for sure have to take them tonight.”

“What a shame we can’t do that in the daytime,” said Dallas. “We got the whole day ahead of us and not a blessed thing to do until sundown, when we show Paiute the death’s head on the side of that mountain.”

“Until then,” Arlo said, “we’re going to stay out of sight. Without knowing where we are, the Davis outfit and that bunch from town will be on their own. They’re going to be frustrated as hell, not knowing where to even start looking for the mine.”

Just before dawn the Davis contingent was awakened by gunfire. Davis flung aside his blankets, grabbed his gun rig, and left the cavern on the run. Bollinger was right behind him. Rust followed less enthusiastically. As Davis dashed into the open, arrows began whipping past him. He turned and ran back to the safety of the cavern, colliding with Bollinger. The two men stumbled back along the passage, where they encountered Rust.

“What’s going on out there?” Rust asked.

“Indians,” Davis gasped. “The whole damn canyon’s full of ’em. There’s one bunch comin’ up canyon and more of ’em along the walls. Them claim jumpers from town is all catchin’ hell.”

“You ought to be out there helping those men,” said Paulette, “instead of cowering in here. What’s going to stop those savages from coming after us?”

“We don’t owe that bunch from town a damn thing,” Davis said angrily. “By God, it’s their fight. We’re safe in here.”

“But our horses and pack mules are out there,” said Rust. “You call that safe, being stranded in these mountains on foot?”

“You wanna get yourself shot full of Apache arrows over some horses and mules,” Davis snarled, “go ahead.”

On the heels of his words, nine men came splashing
through the stream bed toward their shelter. First into the cavern were the Mexican guides, Yavapai and Sanchez.

“Hold it,” said Davis, cocking his Colt. “You ain’t welcome in here. Git the hell out!”

“Madre de Dios,”
cried Sanchez, “the Apaches kill us!”

While Sanchez had Davis’s attention, Yavapai drew and fired. Paulette screamed and Davis dropped his Colt. He stared numbly at the blood welling out of his right arm, just above the elbow. Rust had made no move, and Bollinger paused, his hand on the butt of his Colt. Every man who had entered the cavern, except Sanchez, had drawn his gun, lest the Indians attempt to follow. Davis regained his voice, his hate-filled eyes fixed on Yavapai.

“Damn you,” he growled. “Damn you!”

“I should have kill you,” Yavapai hissed. “Do not tempt me, Señor.”

While Paulette was pale and shaken, Kelly and Kelsey stared at the wounded Davis in contempt. Just when it seemed that the commotion outside had ceased, there was a roar of gunfire nearby. With captured weapons, the Apaches began firing through the passage, into the cavern. Slugs slammed into the stone walls, each deadly ricochet screaming across the cavern’s stone floor, into the stone overhead, or into another wall.

“Madre de Dios!”
Yavapai shouted. “Into the belly of the mountain!”

Followed by Sanchez, Yavapai tumbled into the forbidding passage where Ed and Hamp had so recently vanished forever. Forgetting his dropped Colt and bleeding arm, Davis ran for his life. Kelly and Kelsey followed, while Rust, Bollinger, and the rest of the men from town fought to enter. Paulette Davis was the last to move. Throwing aside her blankets, she got to her hands and knees, only to collapse facedown on the floor. A slug had whanged into a stone wall, and the deadly ricochet had taken off the back of her head. Blood and brains soiled her still-warm blankets.

The thunder of early-morning gunfire wasn’t lost on
Arlo and Dallas. Paiute continued to drink his coffee, his expression unchanged.

“Apaches,” Dallas said gravely. “I hope we ain’t waited too long about helpin’ the girls.”

“So do I,” said Arlo, “but from all the shooting, I’d say the fight is with the bunch from town. I hope Davis had enough savvy to take his people and make a run for it.”

“I’m goin’ out to look around,” Dallas said, getting to his feet. “Don’t seem right, us sittin’ here doing nothing, when them damn Apaches might be killin’ Hoss Logan’s only kin.”

“I know how you feel,” said Arlo, “and I’ll go with you, but what can we do? I doubt the Apaches would harm Kelly and Kelsey. At worst, they’d be taken captive.”

“But for a woman,” Dallas said, “that’s a fate worse than death. They’d likely end up bein’ Apache wives.”

Paiute watched the partners leave the cavern. When he was sure they were gone, he took the cork out of the bottle and removed some matches. Then from the same nook where he kept the bottle, he withdrew a wad of tangled rawhide strips. He looped several of the longer ones to the thong around his lean neck, a thong whose other end was secured to the shaft of a Bowie knife that hung down his back, concealed by his patched flannel shirt. He then entered the passage in the back wall, behind the cascading water. Again he did not follow the narrow corridor to the west rim where he’d once taken Dallas and Arlo. When he came to another passage that forked off, the old Indian felt along the wall until his hand located a single wooden peg driven into a crevice in the rock. He went on, pausing at the next passage long enough to search the wall again. At the third passage, his seeking hand found a pair of wooden pegs in the stone wall. This passage he took, following it as it angled down into the very heart of the Superstitions.

Even after the firing finally ceased, those who had taken refuge in the dark passage remained still, uncertain of their next move.

“Per’ap the Apache be gone,” Sanchez said, “Let us go see.”

In the dim light of the cavern, Yavapai and Sanchez were the first to view the grisly remains of Paulette Davis. As much death as they had seen, a spark of decency remained in them still, and they felt some pity for the Logan girls. Sanchez returned to the dark passage and spoke to Kelly and Kelsey Logan.

“Per’ap you should remain here,” he said, “until we have look outside.”

“No,” said Kelsey. “It’s frightening in here.”

She pushed past Sanchez, Kelly following close behind. They were shocked into silence by the awful scene that greeted them. Every man—including Davis—stood there grimly, viewing death in one of its ugliest forms. With choked cries, both girls dropped to their knees on the stone floor. Whatever else she had been, Paulette was their mother.

“Kelly,” said Davis lamely. “Kelsey …”

When they raised tear-ravaged faces to him, even Davis was moved. While he had seen hate in their eyes before, it had been nothing to equal this.