Taggart (1959) (5 page)

She left her position and worked her way around the top of the mountain, studyin
g
the country in every direction. Their lives depended on remaining unknown to th
e
Apaches who occasionally passed through, and so far they had been secure.

Adam came up the mountain and met her at the first position. "See anything?"

"A rider, I think." She indicated the bare spot on the shoulder of Black Mesa. "Ca
n
he get down to the river from there?" Adam took the glasses and studied the place.

"I killed a dee
r
over there the first week we were here. Yes, he can come down, all right."

He studied the area again. "No sign of anyone now." "There won't be. I have a feelin
g
he doesn't wish to be seen."

He made a slow search of the country. "Connie doesn't like it here," he commente
d
suddenly. "I don't blame her, exactly." "She's had enough, I think," Miriam responded.

"She had it before we did, you know. She grew up with it."

"Is she afraid?"

Miriam considered the question. "Aren't we all? I think she is less afraid than w
e
are. She's a strong woman."

"I know ... and she believes I'm weak." "You love her, don't you?"

"As I never loved anyone." He lowered the glasses. "There is somebody over there."

He handed her the glasses. "See? On the cliff above the river?"

"I see him. He's looking for a way down."

They were silent as Adam took back the glasses and watched the far-off figure.

"Yes, I love her," he said after a moment. "I loved her from the first day we met
,
and I believed she would come to love me." "I think she does." As she spoke, Miria
m
was surprised t
o
realize she really believed it. "I don't believe she knows that she loves you, o
r
how much, but she doesn't believe you are strong. "

"I know."

"He's found a way," Miriam said, watching through the glasses. "He's coming down."

Adam took the glasses when she offered them and studied the distant figure of th
e
man on horseback. "One man alone in this country ... it doesn't look right."

"He could be an outlaw."

Adam continued to watch the rider. "When we've gold enough we'll go out," he said.

"I know the ranch I want, and once I have it we can go to San Francisco or even bac
k
east. After that I think Connie will feel different ... and I'm planning a real house
,
something she can be proud of."

He passed the glasses to his sister. "He's across ... he's disappeared in the brus
h
on this side."

He caught her shoulder. "Look! West of him ... see the dust?"

She shifted the glasses to study the dust cloud, and saw a war party of perhaps
a
dozen Apaches, traveling in the same direction as the strange rider, but some distanc
e
from him.

There was no way they could warn him without revealing their position. And Consuel
o
was alone at the house. "Apaches," she said.

He got to his feet. "Let's get back before they cut us off." They snatched thei
r
rifles and almost ran down the steep trail. At the canyon they could defend themselves
,
but caught out like this they would be killed in a matter of minutes if they wer
e
seen, and alone in the canyon Consuelo could do little. The lone rider must shif
t
for himself.

Swante Taggart,rode down off the mesa and into the water. At this point it was scarcel
y
knee-deep for the horse, and a few minutes later Swante rode up the bank and int
o
the willows along the river.

Dismounting there under cover of the brush, he trailed hi
s
reins and walked back to the edge of the water. With a clump of sage he brushed ou
t
his tracks and sifted dry sand over them until all evidence of his crossing had bee
n
eliminated. On the other side of the river he had been riding across shelving rock.

He worked his way through the brush, leading his horse, and paused in the outer edg
e
and with his field glasses studied the mountains ahead of him. Only a few minute
s
earlier Adam and Miriam Stark had fled down the trail, but he was too late to hav
e
seen them there, and their route led down a deep, water-worn cut.

Still leading the steeldust, he went up an arroyo. Suddenly he felt the horse's hea
d
come up and saw his ears prick. "Easy, boy!" he whispered. "Easy, now."

The gelding turned slightly toward him, but the ears remained pricked, listening.

And then Swante Taggart heard the sound himself, a click of a hoof on stone.

Drawing the horse back under the slight overhang, he waited, rifle in hand.

The shadow of a riding Indian appeared on the far wall, then another, then several.

One hand on the nose of the steeldust, Swante waited, his heart pounding heavily.

Sweat trickled down his cheeks, and inside he was cold and still. A pebble fell nea
r
him, then a trickle of sand. Letting go the gelding's nose, he lifted his rifle.

He could hear the low mutter of their voices, for they were scarcely fifteen fee
t
above him. They argued briefly, and then moved off along the edge of the arroyo
,
and he knew enough of their language to know they were looking for something. Bu
t
what? Who?

He squatted on his heels against the wall, the rifle across his knees. It was growin
g
hot.

His canteen was full, but he knew that neither the horse nor himself could go o
n
as they had ... they must find a place and hole up for a rest. Also, Shoyer mus
t
still be on the trail, and the reason was obvious, for there were only two place
s
he might be going ... to Globe or to Morenci.

The thing to do was to stop. If a man left no tracks none could be found, and Pet
e
Shoyer would go on to Globe, then to Morenci, looking for him.

It was a risky thing to try, and he would need food, which meant either trappin
g
or shooting game, and shooting was likely to attract Apaches. He must find a plac
e
with water for himself and grass for the gelding.

When half an hour had gone by he rolled and lighted a cigarette to still the gnawin
g
of hunger. Hunger, however, was not new to him, and he was not a man who pampere
d
himself.

When a full hour had passed he climbed to the rim of the arroyo and sat among th
e
rocks to study the country. There should be springs somewhere around the mountai
n
to the east, which was Rockinstraw, for run-off water had a way of coming to th
e
surface. Any spring would be a danger, for the Apaches were almost sure to know o
f
it and visit it from time to time.

As he started to rise, a rabbit jumped up and he seized a rock . . . the rabbit wa
s
gone. Probably couldn't have hit it, anyway. He had never been much good at throwin
g
things ... except lead once in a while.

The Apaches had gone off to the south. His own way led to the east, so he mounte
d
and started on.

Desert though it was, the country was brushy. There was prickly pear, pin oak, an
d
a variety of desert growth, so that a man riding slowly to raise no dust, and takin
g
advantage of the brush and juniper, could keep under cover at least half the time.

With Rockinstraw Mountain looming ahead of him, he worked his way slowly across country
,
stopping frequently, constantly aware of danger from Apaches, but equally ready t
o
observe the slight touch of green that might mean a spring or small seep.

Ahead of him in a canyon bottom was a heavy stand of brush, and pushing up to it
,
he noticed that some of the brush was dead. He paused, studying the situation. Wha
t
it was that first arrested his attention he did not know, and anyone riding les
s
cautiously than he would have noticed nothing, but something about the area disturbe
d
him.

The patch of thick brush lay in the shallow opening of th
e
canyon, and Taggart skirted the brush warily, trying to decide what it was that bothere
d
him. Dismounting, he walked into the brush leading his horse. Glancing from tim
e
to time at the steeldust, he noticed nothing. If there was anything alive around
,
the horse was as unaware of it as he himself.

His eye caught the abrasion before his attention came to a focus on it. He had take
n
a step past when he suddenly became aware of what he had seen, and turning back h
e
looked again.

The trunk of a twisted mesquite tree had been bruised by some heavy object. Nor wa
s
the bruise in such a place that it might have been caused by a horse's hoof . . .
t
he abrasion was higher, but not fresh. He studied it, knowing that his life no
w
hung precariously and any slight mistake could mean its end.

Squatting, he turned his head and looked around, and so it was that he saw the wheel.

It was a wagon wheel, almost entirely concealed in brush, but beyond it there wa
s
another wheel. Ducking under the brush, crawling on his knees, he reached the wagon.

A wagon concealed in such a manner meant that whoever concealed it meant to fin
d
it again, but intended that it should not be found by anyone else. How anybody ha
d
gotten a wagon this far was more than he could conceive, yet the wagon was here.

The presence of a wagon must mean the presence of men. He studied the bottom of th
e
wagon as much as he could in the concealing brush. There were some threads that mus
t
have come from burlap sacking ... and caught on a sliver of the wagon-board was
a
cotten thread. He scowled ... from a woman's skirt? It seemed ridiculous, and ye
t
...

The tracks had been wiped out, but not by one skilled in tracking. Searching, h
e
found a partial hoof-print under the edge of a bush ... the wagon had been draw
n
by mules.

Returning to the steeldust, he lighted another smoke and considered the situation.

Whoever had brought the wagon this far could have taken it farther; hence it wa
s
logical to suppose that the driver had reached his destination, or close to it.

Had the wagon been abandoned because his animals had been killed, at least a skeleto
n
would have remained.

What would a man be doing in this country? Cattle were impractical with the Apache
s
on the loose, although here and there a few were trying it. But he had seen no cattle
,
nor any signs of them.

Mining? That might explain the wagon, brought in to carry supplies and equipment.

Why not bring it in on mules? Or horses? But if the man did have a woman along, h
e
might prefer a wagon, or if he were bringing a large amount of supplies, plannin
g
a long stay.

For one man alone or even a half-dozen men to remain in this country during Apach
e
trouble meant a secure position, well-fortified, well-supplied.

Of course, it was always possible the wagon had been so cumbersome they had decide
d
to abandon it, but then the wagon would most likely have been left in the open, whereve
r
the driver had stopped. There was no reason to conceal the wagon unless the owne
r
was expecting to remain nearby, and expecting to use it again.