The Delaware joined him. “You know the place?” he asked.
“I’ve never been there… not up close.”
“There’s water… plenty of it, if they have savvy. Three, maybe four springs within a few miles.”
“And an Indian sitting on every one of them.”
The Delaware shrugged. “I think so.”
“The water holes where would they be from that lone peak?”
The Indian looked at him. “I go with you.”
“Like hell. You’re all in. Anyway, one man alone has a better chance.”
“In open country? Nobody has a chance.”
With a small stick he spotted in the sand the locations of the springs from the lone peak. He indicated an isolated butte. “That’s Wildcat. You point for that. No matter what, go uphill. The land rises all around in a great circle toward the top of the swell. The peak is at one edge of that rise, right east of it. From what Garrick said, those soldiers are within a mile of water.”
“Thanks.” Callaghen got up and stretched. “I’ll get some sleep.” He turned to the Delaware. “Get my horse ready, will you?”
He went into the cabin, got his blankets, and rolled up in a corner.
Malinda watched him go. “Aunt Madge, what is he going to do?”
“You know what he’s going to do.” Her aunt took up the coffeepot, filled a cup, and handed it to Malinda. “He’s the kind of man who will always know what to do, and he will never ask anybody to do it for him.”
CHAPTER 15
It was dark and still when he came out into the night. His freshly cleaned rifle, which he held in his left hand, smelled faintly of gun oil; a cup of coffee was in his right. His horse stood ready, a long-limbed black horse that had seemed the best of the lot. Aside from a small blanket roll behind the saddle he carried a small packet of food in his saddlebags and two canteens.
Only a few stars were showing. The wind was blowing a not unusual thing in the Mohave Desert and this was good. It would disguise the small noise he might make in leaving. The outer gate had been standing open for nearly an hour, with two men watching it. The gate had been opened and ready so as to make as little movement as possible at the moment of departure. The Delaware ghosted to his side. “The wind… it will help,” he said as he glanced up where, between wisps of high cloud, a part of the Milky Way was visible. “The Chiefs Road,” he said. “So it is called by the Crees.”
MacBrody was there too. “They’ll likely be in bad shape,” he said. “You’ll be needin’ more grub.”
“They’ll have to do with water. But you be watching for us if I find them we’ll come back.” He spoke in low tones. “And watch Wylie. The man’s not to be trusted. He’s a crook, and worse, and he’s a damn fool along with it.”
“I will do that,” MacBrody replied. “You be carin’ for yourself now. It is not good that an O’Callaghan should die out there.”
Caliaghen handed his cup to Malinda, who had suddenly appeared beside him, and touched her arm gently. “It will be fine to come back,” he said, “knowing you are here.”
Taking the reins of the horse, he walked through the gate and turned sharply along the wall, keeping close to it in the darker shadow. At the end of the wall he stopped and looked out across the first ground to be covered.
He still had about two hours of darkness before the night was gone, but he did not like the look of the desert out beyond the corner. It was lighter there, and keen eyes might see him. He tried to judge how far an Indian could see in that semidarkness and decided that to see him moving, a man would have to be within thirty or forty yards.
The ground here was gravel, and brush grew spottily. He stepped out softly and led his horse between two clumps of brush, close enough to them to make his outline indistinct. When he had gone fifty yards or so he glanced back. The redoubt was only a spot of blackness against the shadow of the mountain.
He put a boot in the stirrup and swung to the saddle, leaning forward at once to make himself smaller, and then he walked the horse forward carefully.
He saw nothing, heard nothing. Continuing to walk the horse slowly, he kept himself in line with the small isolated peak ahead of him. The ground rose gradually but steadily. He had crossed this area before, and it stirred his curiosity, arousing questions his limited knowledge of the earth sciences could not solve.
There was here a vast dome, rising from all sides. In approximately four and a half miles the ground rose twelve hundred feet, but at the top there was no peak, not even a knoll. The huge dome was flat, and it was broken by only two or three minor outcroppings. But about a mile or so from the top of the dome there was a jagged peak about five hundred feet high.
It was that peak toward which he was now pointing. Opposite it, near the end of a rugged range of mountains was another peak. At the base of that was where Sprague and his men were believed to be.
He rode carefully, skirting the dome on a wide swing that kept him low enough so that he was not outlined against the sky. At intervals he hesitated, to listen. And always he watched those surest indicators of movement near by the ears of his horse.
His rifle was slung to his pommel, his pistol ready to hand. If action came it would be at close range. He had gone a mile… and then went on another mile. He was walking his horse when suddenly of its own volition its pace quickened. Alert to every move of the horse, he sensed its fear at once. He heard nothing, but he knew there was some danger nearby.
It was out there in the night, and his horse knew it. The animal half turned its head, and he glimpsed the whites of its eyes. It was something coming up behind them, something that made no noise in the night.
There was no wind. He could hear only the movements of his horse, the creak of the saddle. Suddenly the horse shied, and from the ground in front of him a wraith-like figure came up. At that moment something whispered from the other side and he turned sharply.
The turn saved his life, for a thrown club just missed his skull. At the same instant something leaped at him from the other side. He clubbed his pistol barrel over a skull, and slammed the spurs to his horse. The frightened animal, unaccustomed to such treatment, gave a great bound forward and he felt the clawing hands fall away. He swung the horse at right angles and went up the hill.
They were all around him now, and there must have been a dozen of them. They had been running to meet him, and now they tried to close in. He swung his horse again, driving at one of them, who tried to swing aside, too late.
The big animal charged into him and the man went down, a scream tearing from his throat as he went under the trampling hoofs. And then Callaghen was away, and running.
He heard something it might have been an arrow but he had slipped away from them it was partly luck, but even more, it was the speed and intelligence of his horse that had saved him.
He did not for a moment believe they would fall back. A good runner can run a horse down… all it needs is time, and the Indians had time. He was away for now, but he could not run his horse forever and they would close in those swift, deadly fighters following after him.
Dimly against the starry sky he could see the peak toward which he was aiming. The dome up which he was now riding went steadily upgrade, and he swung his horse along the side of the slope in a vast, easy circle, going always toward the peak. He scarcely hoped he would confuse his followers he did not underestimate them, for he knew well enough that they were shrewd, relentless, and ruthless.
He moved his horse into a trot and held it so for a good half-mile. Then he slowed down and walked it up the dome. A dun shadow appeared on his left, another on his right. They were attempting to turn him. But if he turned back, those coming up behind would close in around him.
He drew up and stopped momentarily, listening, then he turned sharply at right angles and started his horse along the slope again at a rapid walk, turning constantly to look to all sides. By now they knew where he was going, and they had no intentions of permitting it. His eyes were accustomed to the darkness, and he could now distinguish the Indians from the Joshua trees… if they moved.