From his freshly cleaned rifle he could smell the gun oil as he stood in the open gate, looking out into the night. In a few minutes the stage would roll through that gate and move out toward the Government Road to Rock Springs. Ahead lay that long sweep of open country across the valley toward the Mid Hills. By day they would have been completely exposed, but at night there was a chance. Whether these Indians preferred fighting by day, as did their friends the Apaches, Callaghen did not know; he only knew that by night they seemed less vigilent.
He heard the creak of the stage as Aunt Madge and Malinda got in, but he did not turn his head as he watched the area outside. Callaghen would go, and with him the Stick-Walker and Beamis, as Lieutenant Sprague had decided. Their mission would be to guard the stage and, if possible, to give help to the beleaguered station.
Sprague came to the gate. He held out his hand to Callaghen. “Luck go with you. You’ll need it.”
“And luck to you, Lieutenant. It has been a pleasure serving with you.”
Sprague smiled wryly. “Has it? We’ve had nothing but trouble, Sergeant.”
“We expected that when we joined up.” He paused. “I’ll get them through, Lieutenant, and then I’ll come back.”
“You’ll do no such thing!” Sprague spoke roughly. “Don’t be a damn fool, Callaghen. You’re out of it your discharge is due. You stay with that girl. Anyway, we’ll have relief before you could get back… or it will be too late to do us any good.”
They stood silent, and Ridge came to them. “We’re ready, Lieutenant. Sergeant, are you riding inside?”
“No, I’ll keep my horse.”
“All right. I’ll take the Delaware on the box with me, and let Beamis ride inside with the women. He’s a good lad, and he’ll reassure them.”
Callaghen chuckled. “Reassure Aunt Madge? Ridge, you’re joking. That woman is tougher than any one of us. She’s got sand.”
Ridge shrugged. “All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Callaghen went to his horse and stepped into the saddle. He lifted a hand in salute to the Lieutenant, then led the way through the gate. All was quiet; there was only the stirring of the wind, only the odd moan of it through the Joshua leaves. He kept to the sand, and the stage rocked and rolled after him, moving slowly. Nothing else moved. The twin ruts of the trail showed white before them as they moved into the trail.
They went ahead almost silently. He could hear the creak of the stage springs and an occasional rattle of harness, but nothing else. Out on the road he moved into a canter, and behind him Ridge shook his lines and the horses began to trot.
They were well away, and whatever happened now, they were committed.
The minutes went by… nothing happened.
When an hour had passed, Ridge drew up to rest his horses and Callaghen rode back beside the stage. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes. Is the worst over?” Malinda wanted to know.
“Not until we get to Fort Mohave. We’ve gotten out without their hearing, or else they’ve been willing to let us go. Really, it is the station they want. They believe there’s more there than there is.”
Then for another hour they moved steadily, walking the horses, with frequent stops to rest them and to listen. During all this time they saw nothing in the night around them, heard no sound; but off to the south they could make out the strange white gleam of the great dunes that banked the mountains, ahead of them the ridge of the Mid Hills.
It was past midnight now. Callaghen rode back to the stage again and drew up where he could talk in low tones. “We’ve been climbing the last two, three miles. Right ahead is Cedar Canyon. It’s narrow, and the road winds more than two miles through the canyon, every bit of it a danger. So sit tight.”
Beamis spoke up. “You think there’ll be Indians?”
“Maybe. You keep your gun handy, Beamis.”
One of the horses stamped on the hard road. The stars were bright, and the Joshua trees flung their wild arms to the sky.
“If we get through the canyon it’s a nice run to the Government Holes. Usually there’s water there, but if there isn’t, there’s Rock Springs right beyond. There’s too much cover there for safety, too much chance of an ambush. We’d have to stop short and one man would have to go for water.”
“I’ll go,” Beamis said.
They waited there a moment more in the cool wind. Starlight glanced along the polished rock of the mountain’s face a few miles south just a black shine above the white of the sands.
“All right, Sarge?” That was Ridge.
“Let ‘er roll.”
The Delaware looked at him. “I smell trouble,” he said. “I do not like this place, this Cedar Canyon.”
The stage started on, and Callaghen rode on the left side of it, keeping pace with the window where Malinda sat. It was good to be that close to her.
Now they were in the canyon itself, with only the sky overhead. The sides of the canyon rose up steeply. By the time they had rounded the second turn they could smell the cedars. The trail narrowed. The horses were pulling well. Callaghen rode forward, but he had not passed the driver’s seat when there was a crashing volley and something struck him alongside the head. He felt himself falling, grabbed wildly, and held briefly as he fell clear. Then he hit ground, lost his hold, and darkness rolled over him.
It was cold. He was lying on the hard ground, lying on stones. He opened his eyes slowly and saw a sky faintly gray-blue, with only a few stars remaining. He lay perfectly still, not yet fully aware of things. Then it returned to him the sudden firing, falling… He started to move, and felt a throb of pain in his skull. He lay still then, gathering strength to try again.
He could hear nothing in the night. Slowly, more carefully this time, he sat up. It hurt, but he made it.
The stage was gone. A dozen yards away lay the body of a man sprawled on the road. He got up, felt for his gun. It was there. His shirt had been ripped open. He touched his pocket where he had put the map, and it was gone. No matter… he didn’t need it, and unless they could read it right it would do them no good.
He succeeded in getting to his feet, and looked around for his rifle. It did not seem to be there.
He went to the body and turned the man over. It was Ridge. He’d been hit at least twice through the lungs. There was no sign of Beamis he must still be with the stage then… but what of the Delaware? He was gone, too.
Callaghen’s head throbbed with a dull, heavy ache that made him wrinkle his forehead against it. Weaving slightly, he walked away from Ridge’s body and looked down at the ground.
The tracks of the stage were there, tracks of some horses, and the tracks of two feet, side by side, deep in the loose earth on the trail. Callaghen considered those tracks. He was only an average tracker, but those footprints… Somebody had jumped from the stage, landing on both feet.
Scouting, he picked up one more track. The man, whoever he was, had ducked into the rocks and cedars near the trail. It was poor cover, but for a man who knew how to use it, it might do. It was probably the Delaware, and there was a good chance he had gotten away, and would be trailing the stage.
With the growing light he suddenly saw his rifle. It had fallen in the grass and prickly pear close to the trail. Retrieving it, he walked along the trail to higher ground. Where was his horse? He remembered it bolting as he fell, and it might have gotten away, or might be grazing somewhere nearby.
He followed slowly along the stage tracks. He desperately wanted a drink, but the nearest water he knew of was at Government Holes, five miles away. And either the attackers or Indians…
OrIndians? Now, why had he thought that? Of course: his gun was still on him, and only the map was gone. Kurt Wylie then Wylie, Champion, and Spencer. By this time there might be others, for Wylie might be working according to some preconceived plan that Allison’s death had interrupted. They had the map, the stagecoach, and the women. They would certainly get rid of the stage, for it could only be a hindrance to them. But the women? Callaghen did not like to think of that.
He walked on, but when he had gone less than a mile he pulled up short. A dim trail turned off to the south through the hills which would lead into a valley below and the stage tracks turned into it. He started to follow, but his eyes caught a glimpse of something farther ahead.