Skeleton Lode (25 page)

“You won’t be,” Arlo assured her. “Remember what a hell of a time we had, just getting into that mountain that had the death’s head at sundown, only to find that a passage led into it from the other end? We had to take the hard way in, because we knew of no other. Well, it’s going to be the same with the underground river. Only a fool would believe Hoss Logan hauled gold ore up over a bluff as high and as dangerous as that. So again, there has to be a better way in and out, but to find it we must first get in, and that means goin’ down the bluff. The underground stream has to go somewhere, and I believe at some point it’ll empty into the Salt River. Once we learn where it goes—and maybe where it originates—we’ll find a better way in and out.”

“Much as I hate to give up this camp,” Dallas said, “when Kelly and me return from town, I think we’d better move out. Maybe off the mountain. If this bunch Davis is tied in with ain’t searchin’ the tunnels, they soon will be. Besides, we’re plumb out of graze for our horses and mules.”

“Hustle, then,” said Arlo, “and if there’s anything else you can think of that we might need, bring it. This may be our last chance for supplies. Once we find the gold, we’ll have to fight to keep it.”

Gary Davis had been gone for an hour, and Pod Osteen was fuming.

“Eldon, you and Zondo go and bring some rope. By God, this Davis had better have a good excuse. Like two busted legs.”

Sandoval and Carp returned to camp and told Cass Bowdre of the missing Davis.

“Hell, I ain’t seen him since he left with you,” said Bowdre, mystified. “His hoss, his pack, and his grub’s still here. Maybe he took a wrong turn.”

“All he had to do was foller that stream of water,” said Sandoval. “A blind mule could of done that.”

“Ah knowed it,” Mose Fowler groaned. “He done been took by the spirits.”

“Damn it,” Bowdre growled, “it don’t make sense. If he was wadin’ water, soon as he left it, there’d have been tracks. Some mud, anyhow.”

“No tracks, no mud, no sign,” said Carp.

“Is simple,” Sanchez said. “Señor Davis no leave mountain.”

“Per’ap he never will,” Yavapai added. “It have take others, and now it take him.”

“Damn fool superstitions,” Bowdre scoffed. “For whatever reason, Davis went down the wrong end of that shaft, and he’s lost in there. Let him find his way out, or stay lost. Now you hombres take a pair of ropes and get back to Osteen and the others.”

Sandoval and Carp took the lariats and started back, while Cass Bowdre eyed his three companions in disgust. While Fowler and the
Mejicanos
might pull their weight in a fight with Apaches, they wouldn’t be worth a damn in a search of the dark passages beneath the Superstitions. Silently Bowdre cursed Gary Davis for a swollen foot and ankle that still refused to support his weight.

From the east rim, Dallas and Kelly delayed their descent until Sandoval and Carp had disappeared into the mountain.

“Like we figured,” said Dallas. “They’re into the tunnels, and I reckon they’ve reached that hole I fell into, so they went back for ropes.”

“I just hope they don’t find their way to our camp,” Kelly replied, “with only Arlo and Kelsey there.”

“They’ll be a while gettin’ across that hole,” Dallas said, “and when they do, all they’ll get is a trip back the way they come. But it’s the only passage they know of, where the stream flows out and into the canyon. Once they cross that hole, find nothing, and have to cross it again, the day will be mostly spent.”

“So they won’t have time to find their way into our camp before tomorrow, even if they choose the right passages?” asked Kelly.

“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.