The Savage Curse (15 page)

A pounding on the door interrupted John's thoughts.

“John, open up. It's me, Ben.”

John walked to the door, lifted the latch. Gale and Ben rushed inside the lab. John closed the door, then dropped the latch. Both were breathless; neither saw Coyote at first. They were still adjusting their eyes to the dim light in the lab.

“You took your sweet time, Johnny,” Ben said, “lettin' us in.”

“I was busy.”

“Now, now, boys,” Gale said, “let's not quarrel. John, there's a small troop of soldiers ridin' this way. Maybe a dozen.”

“A patrol?” John said.

“Looks like,” Ben told him. “That's why we ran down here. They're headin' straight for us. Them Navajos light a shuck?”

John hiked a thumb toward Coyote.

Ben looked over at the wall. Gale twisted her head in that same direction.

“You got one,” Ben exclaimed.

The three walked over to Coyote.

“Recognize him, Gale?” John said. “He's one of Red Hand's band.”

She shook her head.

“Nope, never seen this one before. Where's the others? Where's that young 'un you run off?”

“There are two more,” John said. “Waiting for Red Hand and this one.”

“Where are they?” Ben asked. “You got 'em tied up outside?”

John shook his head. “No, they're probably running from the soldiers by now. This one calls himself Coyote.”

“Well, he sure looks moth-eaten,” Ben said.

John noticed Coyote's ragged clothing for the first time. He had been studying his face, a face that was hard to decipher, round and dark, with a small pinched nose, sensuous lips, high prominent cheekbones, black hair. His shirt was thin and threadbare, a pale blue, as if it had been washed out in lye soap a thousand times. His sash was faded black, the thread unraveling in several places. His pants were old, too, grimy and dusty, tan, and his moccasins were without beads or ornaments, just scuffed and patched and holey.

“Bedraggled as hell,” Gale said.

“He speaks a little English and some Spanish,” John said.

“What're you goin' to do with him, John?” Ben asked.

“I don't know.”

“How'd you get him?” Gale asked.

“He came after me with this knife.” John pointed to the knife in his belt. “I knocked him cold with the barrel of my Colt.”

Gale and Ben looked at each other.

Both were silent for a few seconds.

“You tie him up real good?” Ben said, a trace of trepidation in his voice.

“Good enough,” John said.

“I think the soldiers saw your smoke, John,” Gale said. “They turned right afterward. They might have seen us run down here from behind those tailings. If they were lookin' through their glasses.”

“Well, let's go out and wave them up here,” John said.

“What about him—Coyote there?” Ben asked.

“He'll keep,” John said. “I don't want the soldiers to get him.”

“You don't?” Gale said. “Why not?”

“I think we might make a friend out of him.”

“Friends with a Navajo renegade? I don't think so.”

“Ever try?” John asked.

Gale looked at him with flinty eyes, her head cocked like a bird eying a bug.

“They don't tame,” she said, and John detected the bitterness in her voice. “I was brought up knowin' the only good Injun was a dead Injun.”

“Maybe that ought to change,” John said.

He lifted the crossbar and opened the door. The three of them stepped out into the sunlight.

Gale and Ben held their rifles at the ready as they walked to the edge of the flat and gazed down at the approaching soldiers. There was no sign of the other two Navajos. They seemed to have vanished among the rocks. John wondered if they had horses or were on foot.

“They've broken up,” Ben said. “About half of them are ridin' south.”

It was true. Six soldiers were just now climbing the road up the slope toward the laboratory. Seven others were probing to the south, guidon flying. The wind blew at their faces and John saw the giant thunderheads floating toward them. The small clouds were gone from the sky, swallowed up by the big white ones.

“They're hunting the other two,” John said, a trace of sadness in his voice.

“Good riddance, I say,” Gale said.

John wished he had the other two inside the lab. He felt sorry for the two that got away. He felt sorry for Coyote. The Navajos were being hunted down like animals. Kept like animals on reservations. Prisons. It didn't seem right. They were people, human beings like himself.

“I hope they get away,” he said softly.

And Gale glared at him, her lips pursed tight. The hatred in her went deep, he thought. But then, a Navajo had killed her husband.

Red Hand.

It was too bad that one bad apple had to ruin the barrel, he thought.

19

THE ARMY LIEUTENANT HELD A GLOVED HAND UP TO SIGNAL A HALT upon reaching the top of the shelf.

“Sergeant Pierson,” he said, “post two sentries at our flanks.”

“Yes, sir,” Pierson said and ordered two men to take up positions on either side of the dwindling column.

John could see the look of distaste on the sergeant's face, but the young lieutenant was unaware of the older man's feelings about the asinine order.

“Hello,” Gale said. “What brings the army out this way?”

The lieutenant rode up on top of the shelf, leaving his men behind on the slope. He was a trim, slight man, with neatly cut hair, sideburns, a wire-thin moustache. His uniform was covered with dust, which he patted with a gloved hand.

“Ma'am, I'm Second Lieutenant Clive Bellaugh,” he said, “and we're looking for some bandits.”

“Bandits?” Gale said.

“Yes, ma'am. You see any ride this way?”

“Why, no, officer. There's just the three of us. I'm Gale Gill and I'm the owner of this mine.” She cocked a thumb and pointed to the adit, which the lieutenant could plainly see from where he sat his horse.

“What kind of mine?” Bellaugh asked.

“Gold,” she said.

“Well, you'd better be careful, ma'am. There was a gold mine robbed yesterday south of Tucson. Every man jack of them killed except one, who escaped to tell us about it. He was badly wounded, but he might pull through.”

“Why, that's awful, Lieutenant,” Gale said. “Do you know who the robbers were?”

“We have a couple of names. First, though, I'd like to know who these two gentlemen with you are.”

“I'm John Savage,” John said.

“And I'm Ben Russell.”

The lieutenant moved his lips, saying the names to himself.

“Anybody else here working the mine?” Bellaugh said.

Gale shook her head.

“Just us three,” she said. “We're not working it yet. It was my husband's, and he was killed. But there's gold in it and we're going to get it out. We were just looking it over, kind of figuring out what to do.”

“Yes'm. I guess we'll be on our way, then.”

“What about the robbers? You said you might know who they are?”

“The man who got away said he heard two of the names, maybe three. He was in pretty bad shape. But he was pretty sure one of the men was called Cruddy and the other one was named Harley or Arlie, something like that.”

John stiffened slightly at the mention of the names, but he didn't betray the flash of recognition that burst through his mind. Ben swallowed hard, but kept silent.

“Names don't ring a bell with me,” Gale said quickly. “Hope you catch 'em.”

John thought that the soldiers would leave then, but the lieutenant didn't move. He seemed eager to talk.

“It's not only white men we're after, Mrs. Gill. This fellow who got away said they saw some Navajos skulking around the mine. One of them shot his partner and the others came after them with rifles. It was a kind of trap, we think. Because once they all left the mine, the white men were waiting in ambush, started gunning them down.”

“Did they get any gold?” Gale asked.

“They got some bars that had been smelted in Tucson. Worth a heap of money, the man said.”

“Maybe they should have kept those bars in a bank,” she said.

“People around here don't trust banks too much.”

“Too bad,” she said.

“Well, ma'am, we'll be on our way. You see anything suspicious, you come to Tucson, report it to the sheriff. He'll get word to me.”

“I surely will, Lieutenant. Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, ma'am.”

The lieutenant turned his horse and rode down to his men. He said something and they all moved out. The two flankers fell in behind the column, which headed down the slope single file.

Gale waited until the soldiers were out of earshot before she spoke.

“You hear what he said, John? About Harley or Arlie?”

“Ollie,” John said.

Ben nodded. “Sure as shootin' that was Ollie Hobart.”

“You know the other name he mentioned?” she said. “Cruddy, wasn't it?”

“We do,” John said. “He's one of Ollie's men.”

“I should have asked who the miners were,” she said. “But I probably didn't know them. Neither Clarence nor I knew any hard-rock miners around here.”

“If that was Ollie,” Ben said, “he won't be satisfied with what gold he got. ‘Pears to me, he might be interested in your mine, Gale, once we salt it and get the word out we struck gold.”

“You'd think he'd be satisfied and go somewheres else,” she said.

“We'll have to work fast,” John said. “Make sure he doesn't leave Tucson or wherever he's holed up. The sooner we salt this mine and take that ore into the assay office in Tucson, the sooner we can lay our trap for Ollie Hobart.”

“What about that Injun in there?” she said. “What are you going to do with him?”

“Let's talk to him,” John said. “Maybe those Navajos who were with Hobart were part of his band.”

“Will he talk?” Ben asked.

“He might talk,” Gale said, “but will he tell us the truth?”

The three of them stood there watching the soldiers descend the slope. On the plain, the column turned left and headed south, still in single file. They watched the soldiers until they dwindled to small black dots and disappeared in the cloud shadows of the desert.

“Let's get to that Injun of yours, John,” Gale said and turned toward the door of the lab.

She entered first, followed by Ben and John.

They all had to adjust their eyes to the dim light after being in the sun.

A shaft of light from one of the side windows jiggled with gelatinous light. Dust motes fluttered like gilded fireflies. The side window on the opposite wall blared with sunlight that was weak and shapeless, seemingly trapped in shadow.

John glanced at the place where he had left Coyote tied up, a few feet from the open window.

Coyote was gone.

John raced to the spot where Coyote had squatted, saw the piece of rope lying like a dead albino snake. He walked to the window and looked out onto the empty mesa. He could hear the wind moaning through the eaves, saw dust slide across the flat earth, appear and reappear in the blotches of cloud shadows that clotted the landscape.

“What the hell, Johnny?” Ben said.

“Your Injun run off, did he?” Gale asked.

“He's not my Indian,” John said. “And yes, he got away. Must have worked the rope loose while we were outside.”

“So now we've got us a Injun prowlin' around somewheres,” Ben said.

“He's long gone, I'm sure,” John said, turning away from the window. “Maybe we'd better go, too. I want to go back and get that chunk of ore, Gale, and then salt that mine.”

Gale frowned.

“We'd better check on our horses, anyway,” she said. “I wouldn't put it past that thievin' redskin to make off with 'em.”

“They were still there when we came in here,” Ben said.

“Yes,” Gale said, “but that Injun's escaped and he might want to ride instead of walk. John, you should have killed that murderin' skunk when you had the chance.”

John said nothing, but strode to the door. Gale and Ben came out.

“I'd better lock this,” Gale said. “Where's the lock?”

“Inside,” John said.

She found the lock, closed the door, and put the lock back on, closed it, and pulled on it to make sure the bolt had caught. Ben was already walking toward their horses.

“Here's the key, John,” Gale said, handing it to him. “I won't be comin' back with you. Not with all those Navajos running about. I sure wish you had shot that Coyote. The only good Injun . . .”

“Yeah, I know. He was a man, Gale. Unarmed. I have his knife right here inside my belt. Right now he's harmless, probably running like a scared jackrabbit.”

“Or waitin' to foller us to the ranch.”

“I guess if you like to worry, that one's as good as any.”

“What are you, John? An Injun lover?”

“Not particularly. But I talked to the man. I could have killed him, yes. It just didn't seem right.”

“Seem right? He was tryin' to kill you, wasn't he?”

“I reckon.”

“There's your answer,” she said. The two started walking toward the mine. “With Injuns, it's kill or be killed.”