Badger glanced over at Rodelo. “You know where they’ll camp?”
“North … that’s the only place I know of with water. There’s two or three springs on the shore to the north of here.”
“D’you think that boat might be in the other bay?”
“If it came at all, and if it hasn’t gone back, that’s where it will be.”
Joe Harbin drank the brackish water. He studied Dan Rodelo. “I don’t figure you,” he said. “You’ve come a long way for nothing.”
Rodelo looked at him and said nothing, but he could feel the showdown coming.
“You figured we might cut you in for a piece of it, is that the idea? You want a piece of the take?”
Rodelo smiled. “I want it all, Joe. Every last bit of it.”
Harbin chuckled. “Well, you’re honest. I’ll say that for you.”
“That’s just it, Joe. I’m honest.”
They looked at him now. “What’s that mean?” Badger said.
“I went to prison for a year simply because when they caught Joe Harbin I was riding alongside of him … I just happened to meet up with him on the trail. I didn’t know there had been a holdup, but I had worked at the mine, I knew the gold was going up the trail. The jury figured it was too much of a coincidence.”
“So you got stuck,” Joe said. “Well, what of it?”
“I am going to take the gold back to them, Joe, and I’m going to rub their noses in it. I’m going to show them what a bunch of two-bit fair-weather friends they were, and then I’m going to ride away.”
They stared at him, nobody speaking. Nora Paxton could hear the slow, measured beat of her heart. Suddenly Joe Harbin said, “You figured to murder us and take the gold?”
“No. I figured the Indians might do that for me, or the desert. Failing that, I thought I might come up with a plan that would get the gold without anybody being hurt.”
“Now, there’s a good lad,” Harbin said. “He’d take our gold and not hurt us! Why, you damn fool! Who would buy a story like that?”
“I might,” Badger said. “Or once upon a time I might have.”
“Tell you what,” Rodelo suggested. “Suppose I give you each a thousand dollars? We’ll call it reward money for helping to recover it.”
“Generous, ain’t he?” Harbin sneered. “You ride off with our gold and leave us settin’ with a thousand each! You got gall, kid, but you’re in the wrong business. You ought to be a con man or a gambler.”
He looked over at Nora. “Did you know about this?”
“Some of it. I believe he’s telling the truth. I believe he intends to return it.”
Harbin had the saddlebags behind him on the sand. He put a hand on them. “You forget it, Rodelo. You’ll never lay a hand on a cent of this.”
“How about some coffee?” Nora suggested. “We could take a chance on a fire. They know where we are, anyway.”
Nobody paid any attention. Harbin was looking at Rodelo, and Dan could see he was ready. “How about it, kid? You going to try me? You want a piece of the action right now?”
Dan Rodelo smiled stiffly. It was an effort to smile because his lips were cracked and his face was stiff with dust, but he made it. “No, Joe, not yet. I’m going to need you for those Indians, and you’re going to need me.”
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Badger said. “I think the coffee is a right idea. We’ll have us a fire, make coffee, and then we’ll build up the fire some an’ ease out of here. We can walk in the water … those tide flats stretch quite a ways out. We can get on over to that other bay.”
They kept well back from the fire, although it was screened by the mound of sand they had piled up. Nora made coffee, and they drank it slowly, savoring every drop. All of them needed food, but thirst had taken the edge from their appetites. What they wanted was liquid, in any form. The coffee brightened them up, and when the time came to move out they started cautiously, Tom going first and taking the horses. They reached the edge of the water together and started along, walking single file.
The Indians came out of the night suddenly. There was a flash of a gun and a horse went down, and Dan Rodelo swung his Winchester, firing at the flash. He sprang aside, hit the ground flat-footed and fired at another flash, then dropped to the sand and rolled over behind the dead horse, firing again quickly.
He emptied his rifle and fired the Indian’s gun, and when that was empty, calmly reloaded his own.
Then came a lull. Somebody was beside him and suddenly the man spoke. It was Tom Badger.
“That straight about you comin’ after the gold?”
“I told the truth, Tom.” He paused and then added, “I never had much, Tom, but I was working into something back there. I was making a place for myself, and then I had to fall in with Joe on the trail after that holdup.”
“Tough,” Badger said.
They waited a moment. Then Badger asked, “D’you think we got anybody?”
“Uh-huh … one, maybe two.”
“No tellin’ in the dark, like this.” After a pause he added, “I got a hunch, kid. I got a hunch I’m not goin’ to make it.”
“You’re crazy. If anybody makes it, you will.”
A few hundred yards east of them the Indians drew together. Yuma John was feeling disgusted. “I think it is finish,” he said. “I want no more. Too many die.”
“They are but men,” Hat said.
“We are men also,” Yuma John replied. “I think it is well to wait for another time.”
“No,” Hat said. “These I will have.”
“I go,” Yuma insisted. “Who goes with me?”
Two of the Indians joined him. When they had gone, Hat looked at the others. Four were still with him. Well, it was fewer with whom to divide, but it would go hard with him when he returned home. He had always been successful, and the young men had sought every chance to ride with him. Now they would say his luck was gone.
Hat led the way back toward the beach, where they found a dead horse and a few tracks. Their quarry was gone. Hat started on, leading the way.
The ambush should have succeeded. He had recognized the trick of the fire for what it was, and they had gone ahead and waited for the white men to come. They heard them walking at the water’s edge but had miscalculated in the darkness. Several of his men must have shot at the horse, wasting bullets. The return fire had killed another man.
“Look,” one of the young Yaquis said.
There was a darkness on the sand … blood. Hat lifted his head and looked after them. One of them was wounded, and had been hit hard.
Joe Harbin discovered it at almost the same instant, and a quarter of a mile further along the beach. Tom Badger was lagging, hanging to the side of the grulla.
“Tom? What the hell?”
“I caught one.”
Harbin paused. “Bad?”
“Don’t let them get me, Joe. I don’t want them to cash me in.”
“They won’t.”
“I mean it.”
Dan Rodelo fell back. They had reached the point—what was it called? Sea Lion Bluff …
“Let’s stop here,” he said. “We can see the bay. It’s high here, and we can run up a signal, make a fire, or something.”
“Them Injuns,” Tom said, “they’ll be comin’ along.”
“Why not lay for them?” Joe Harbin said. “We ain’t likely to find a better place.”
There were rocks along the shore, and on the outer edge of the bluff some sea lions had gathered, justifying the name of the point. Among the rocks and brush, with the bulk of the bluff rising behind them, they waited.
There was a rustling of surf … the tide was out … there was muttering and movement among the sea lions only a short distance away. Nora huddled close to Rodelo and whispered, scarcely moving her lips. “What will we do?”
“Wait,” he said.
“Tom?” It was Harbin. “Where you hit?”
“In the belly.”
Harbin swore.
Suddenly Nora spoke. “Dan, there’s a light out there! On the water!”
They all saw it then. It was well out, and plain to be seen. Undoubtedly the boat lay at anchor and in swinging with the tide it had turned, showing the light.
“We made it,” Tom said. “That’ll be Isacher’s boat.”
Minutes passed. There was subdued movement from the sea lions, but nothing else. The blackness of the bluff would give perfect concealment for their small party, and any sound of movement would be laid to the sea lions.