Twisted Hills (14 page)

On the morning of the third day, the woman returned, finding Sam seated on a stone slab out in front of the entrance to the deep cavern. The walking stick leaned against a low broken stone wall; a pot of coffee boiled on a bed of coals and low flames in front of him. He sat with a tin cup of coffee in hand, a blanket around his shoulders, another blanket piled on the wide stone slab beside him. The knapsack lay off to the side.

Leading Andre into the ruins from the place where she'd left the wagon hidden, she looked around, seeing the blankets, the knapsack, the campfire.

“You have moved out,” she said. “Was it the darkness or the loneliness?”

“Neither,” Sam said. “It was an earthquake.”

“Yes, I know,” she said. “I felt it in Agua Fría. There were windows broken. Some livery horses spooked and broke through the corral rails.”

“No one hurt, I hope,” he said.

“No one injured,” she said. “There was only the surprise of it.” She stopped Andre a few feet from the fire and looped his lead rope around a spur of rock.

“I met the she-panther you told me about,” Sam said.

“Ah, and what did you think of her?” Lilith asked.

“She's pushy,” Sam said. “I wouldn't be surprised if she has cubs nearby.”

“She is pushy . . . and she
always
has cubs nearby,” Lilith said. She smiled at Sam and said, “Speaking of surprises, I have one for you.”

“Oh?” said Sam.

“Wait here. I'll only be a moment,” she said.

Sam watched as she walked away in the direction from which she'd come. In a moment she reappeared out of the surrounding vines and foliage leading his dun by its reins.

Sam set the cup down and stood up.

“How in the world . . . ?” he said, at a loss for words.

“It was easy,” she said. “I told the hostler you sent me for your horse. I paid him, had this fellow saddled up and I led him away.”

“No one tried to stop you?” Sam said.

“No one even saw me,” she replied, “and believe me, I checked all the time on my way here, to make sure I wasn't followed.”

Sam took the dun's reins and rubbed its muzzle. The dun chuffed and sawed its head a little as if glad to see him.

“But wait,” said Lilith. “I have more.”

Sam watched her step back, open a saddlebag flap and pull out his Colt and the two guns he'd taken from the scalp hunters, Ollie McCool and Bo Roden.

“Well, well,” Sam said, taking his Colt in one hand, the two extra guns in his other, “I wasn't even going to ask if you managed to get a rifle. These three sidearms are going to do just fine.”

“Oh, but I did get a rifle. A French rifle. It's in the wagon,” she said, smiling proudly. “And a bandoleer of cartridges for it. I also found a second horse for the wagon. Andre is delighted.”

Sam looked impressed.

“You've had a really good trip,” he said.

He checked the guns over good and found his Colt loaded. He shoved it down into the waist of his pants.

“Yes, I have,” she said, watching him intently. “Now that you have guns, and your horse, what will you do when you leave here?” she asked almost warily.

“I'm not going to lie, Lilith,” Sam said. “I'm going after the men who did this to me.”

That much was true, he reminded himself. He'd tried working his way into the gang and he'd failed. His next move would be to fight his way through the gunmen, get to Segert and Madson and take them both down. He realized a large part of it was now personal—vengeance for what had been done to him. But it was still his job. Now that he was getting over his last round with the gunmen, the next round was waiting to be fought.

She looked concerned for him.

“But, Joe, this time they will kill you,” she said. “You are lucky to be alive right now, after what they did to you.”

“I know,” Sam said. “But I can't let it go, Lilith,” he said, realizing he couldn't tell her why.

“But it seems so senseless—” she said, not getting her words all the way out before he cut her off.

“It's something I don't want to talk about,” he said. “I'm going and that's all there is to it.”

She stepped in and stood closer to him, only inches away. “Have you thought about me while I was gone?” she asked with a cool level gaze.

Sam caught the look and the meaning right away.

“Yes, I have,” he said. He hesitated for a moment, then said quietly, “I have to be honest with you, Lilith. . . .” He stopped, finding himself stuck for words. He was not going to be honest with her and he knew it. For just a second he felt tempted to reveal his true identity. But then he caught himself. No, he couldn't do that. Deceit was a part of the job he was on. He knew that coming in. There was no changing it now.

“What is it, Joe?” she asked, seeing the look of regret on his face. “You can tell me.”

Huh-uh, don't do it,
he told himself.

“You were right about me. I am a gunman. I'm not better than the rest. You don't want to pin any hopes on me.”

“Yet you're honest enough to tell me,” she said, defending him from his own accusations.

“Stop it, Lilith,” he said softly. “You deserve better. Don't mislead yourself.”

She seemed to consider it for a moment and take a breath.

“All right, Joe,” she said. “If we stop here, we are only two people who have helped each other, and now it is time we go our own way.”

“Yes,” Sam said, gently, yet firmly. “I think that's best.” He watched her walk to the stone slab, sit atop it and look into the low fire.

“You are much better now, I see,” she said, without looking at him. “Tonight I am tired from the trail. But in the morning I will leave.”

“You don't have to leave,” Sam said.

“No,” she said. “I have a long, hot ride ahead of me to San Carlo. It is best—”

“San Carlo?” Sam said, cutting her off. “That's straight up the middle of the Blood Mountain Range—right through the Apache stronghold. You can't go there alone.”

“Yes, I can,” she said. “I can, and I must.” Her eyes turned up from the fire to his as he walked over and sat down beside her.

“What's so important about you going to San Carlo?” he asked.

She looked back into the fire for a silent moment.

“Every year my father and I go there to pay tribute my father owes to a great Mexican don who holds title to the land we live on, who even owns the wagon I drive.” Sam saw her eyes well up; he saw a tear spill down her cheek. “My father is gone, but his debts are not forgiven. It is my duty to go.”

“But you can't go alone, Lilith,” Sam insisted.

She turned her gaze to his.

“How else can I go, Joe?” she said. “I am now a woman on her own. I must do what it takes to live here.”

“But it's too dangerous. They'll kill you. It makes no sense to do something that's going to get you killed.”

“Oh . . . ?” She gave him a knowing look.

“It's different,” Sam said, realizing her point. “I have to go after these men.”

“And I have to pay the tribute owed to Don Marco for the land on which I live, and the wagon which I use to make my living.” She paused, then said, “Whose journey makes more
sense
? Which is more important?”

Sam considered it for a moment. He knew where Madson and Segert were. He knew they would be there. It would be a week's ride to San Carlo, another week back. Settling with these gunmen would have to wait. The woman had risked her life taking him in.

“I want to ride to San Carlo with you,” he said.

“It is a long ride,” she said. “Are you sure you are up to it? You can stay here and rest and mend awhile longer.”

Sam gave a wry smile.

“I'm one of those people who heal better when I keep moving,” he said.

“What about going after the men who did this to you?” she asked him quietly.

“Forget them,” Sam said. “I've had a change of heart. This is more important to me.”

She reached over and took his hand.

“See?” she said. “You tell me you are a bad man, yet I see so much good in you.”

Sam held her hand in return.

“Don't go seeing too much good in me, Lilith,” he cautioned her quietly. “One thing I've learned about life is there's a surprise around every turn.”

“Yes, I know,” she replied quietly. “Living here in the Twisted Hills, I have learned that very thing myself.”

•   •   •

It had been two days since Kelso and the Hooke brothers had their
honest
discussion about the stolen bank money they were searching for. Kelso had finally told them the truth about the money, how he'd gone off and left it with Curtis Rudabell—
for safekeeping
, he'd explained. Since their honest talk, they had scoured the desert floor along the bottom of the Twisted Hill line, turning over every rock that lay near the trail where Kelso and Rudabell had split up when the lawman had gotten too close on their trail.

“Split up,
ha
!” said Hazerat, recounting what Kelso had told them. He and Charlie Ray sat slumped in their saddles, watching Preston Kelso from horseback in the blazing afternoon sun. Kelso had walked ten yards down a rise of loose sand and turned over a large stone. “First gunshot, I bet Preston lit out like a streak. Left ol' Curtis out here to die alone.”

“Yeah, I can see it that way myself,” Charlie Ray said, without taking his eyes off Kelso. “We best be careful he doesn't leave us the same way.”

“He tries, he'd better know we'll kill him,” said Hazerat. He turned his head to the side and tried to spit in contempt. But in that arid furnace, all his spitting amounted to was a gesture and a dry puff of air. Dust stirred from his mustache. He didn't even bother swiping a hand across his dry lips. “I'm on a tempted urge to kill him anyway,” he added.

The two quieted down when Kelso walked back to his horse standing beside Charlie Ray and stepped up into his saddle.

“Next ones you get, Charlie Ray,” Kelso said, lifting his canteen by its strap and uncapping it.

Charlie Ray looked off along the trail in front of them, leading upward onto a rocky hillside.

“Brother Hazerat and I got the last six or seven, Preston,” he said sidelong to Kelso. “It seems to me you've got some catching up to do.”

Kelso took a short sip of warm water, lowered the canteen and capped it.

“Don't make me remind you, Charlie Ray, you and your brother wouldn't even be out here if it weren't for me,” he said.

Charlie gave a dry chuff.

“That's my point exactly, Preston,” he said.

The three turned their horses back along the trail and nudged them along at a walk without another word on the matter.

They rode forward for the next hour, sharing the burden of overturning stones along their way until they'd ridden up off the sandy desert floor onto a rocky sloping hillside. When they stopped again and the three stepped down from their saddles, Kelso looked all around at the countless stones lying strewn all over the rocky terrain. Hazerat and Charlie Ray stood slumped, looking all around.

“Jesus . . . ,” Hazerat murmured under his breath, seeing the endless enormity of the task lying before them.

“The quicker we get started, the quicker we'll get done,” Kelso said. He took a deep breath and a step forward.

Hazerat and Charlie Ray looked at each other.

“For God sakes, Preston!” said Charlie Ray. “We can't overturn every rock in the Mexican desert!”

“What's worth doing is worth doing right,” Kelso said in a dry, hoarse voice, as if reciting the words mindlessly from some imaginary text.

“Uh-oh, the heat's making him loco,” Hazerat said to Charlie Ray, looking Kelso up and down. “We need to get out of here into some shade. My horse is starting to falter at a walk.”

“We're not going anywhere except to turn the next stone,” Kelso said with the ring of rusty iron in his dry voice. “This damn money has gotten me arrow struck and cost me my hair. I'm not leaving this hellhole without it.” He started to throw his hand to his new Colt, but seeing Charlie Ray crane his neck and look out around him, Kelso followed suit.

A drift of trail dust had risen beyond a sand rise.

“We've got company,” said Hazerat, a worried look already coming to his face. “I knew if we stayed out here too long, we'd get ourselves seen.”

The three gigged their tired horses forward and rode at a stiff run the last two hundred yards up the rock-strewn hillside. When they stopped behind a large land-stuck boulder, they jumped down from their saddles and took position, rifles in hand.

“Don't let the heathens get too close before we blast them out of their saddles,” Kelso warned in a whisper, even though the riders were still a good way off. “They're dead shots with them arrows, up close.”

With a battered telescope raised to his eye, Charlie Ray watched intently for a few moments until three horses topped up into sight as if rising out of the earth. Charlie Ray let out a sigh of relief.

“Fellows, we're in luck,” he said. “It's not 'paches—it's the scalp hunters, Fain and the Mexican, Montoya.”

“Who's the third?” Kelso asked, squinting out suspiciously at the riders with his naked eyes.

“The third is a packhorse, Preston,” said Charlie Ray. “If we play our cards right, we can eat something besides hardtack tonight.”

“What are those fools doing out here?” Kelso asked aloud, staring out, still wary.

•   •   •

An hour passed before Fain, Montoya and their supply horse drew up along the trail below. They looked down at the tracks of the three horses and all around at boot prints leading to and from stones that had clearly been overturned. Then they turned their horses and followed the hoofprints winding up the hillside among broken rock and large boulders.