“Mount up, Pen,” I said, “we’re riding out.”
Even as I spoke my mind was laying out the whole scene, taking everything in.
The bank of the creek was low and flat, just rising a mite near the edge of the trees that surrounded the clearing. There were a few good-sized boulders close by. Some of their horses were back on the left, standing under the trees. Penelope’s horse, loaned her by Mims, was over with the team from the buckboard. The harness had been stripped off and both of them now wore Indian-style bridles, made by Flinch, I’d bet.
“She’s not going,” Sylvie said. “This is family trouble, and we’ll settle it here.”
Bishop wasn’t talking. I wanted to know where he stood, but as long as I didn’t make a point of it he could wait and listen.
“There’s no reason for trouble,” I said, “family or no family. You and Ralph go your own way and she can go hers.”
“We found Andrew,” Ralph said.
Well, here it was. The whole thing was shaping up now just the way I thought it would, but had hoped it wouldn’t.
“You shot me, Ralph,” I said, “and Andrew figured to finish the job. He didn’t quite make it.”
“I think you’ve got the gold,” Loomis said. “Why else would you be so ready to ride off?”
I shrugged. “Why waste time around here? The show’s over.”
Sylvie suddenly seemed to give in. “All right. Let’s forgive and forget. We were just getting ready for supper. Get down and I’ll pour some coffee.”
This had gone on long enough. “I don’t like your coffee, Sylvie. It comes out a mite strong for my taste. Pen, you get your horse. We’re leaving … now.”
Pen started toward the horses and Sylvie sprang at her. All I needed was to move in to help her and somebody would take a shot at me.
But Pen didn’t need any help. Sylvie tried to grab at her hair with both hands, but Pen wasn’t having any. She let her have it.
Well, I couldn’t believe it. Seemed I’d never learn. Here was that girl I was always for protecting, and she needed no more protection than a mountain lion. Sylvie sprang at her, hands upraised, and Pen hit her right in the stomach with a doubled-up fist. When Sylvie gasped for breath and brought her hands down, Pen slapped her across the mouth with a crack like a pistol shot. Then she caught up the reins of her horse and swung up.
“Stop her!” Loomis shouted. “Bishop, you stop her—or give me a gun and I will!”
Bishop never moved. He just glanced over at Loomis and said, “You better be happy, old man, that you ain’t got a gun. Nolan Sackett would kill you.”
So we rode out of there and started west again. But I was worried. Noble Bishop would be wanting that gold, and how much of my story he believed I didn’t know. Only thing I was sure of was that he hadn’t wanted a shootout down there by the creek. There were too many people and too many guns, and it would be a matter of luck, not skill, if a man survived. There were too many chances of a wild bullet doing what you didn’t mean an aimed bullet to do.
We rode fast. We were going to pick up that gold and ride out of there, and I was hoping I’d seen the last of all of them.
13
We were northeast of the Rabbit Ears now, and the peaks were red with the dying sun. There was a dull glow over the canyon and we could hear, even at this distance, the roar.
We headed for Rabbit Ears Creek, and from time to time I turned in my saddle, but nobody was following us that I could see. By the time we were due south of the mountain the stars were coming out and it was well on toward dark.
“They won’t leave it alone, Sackett,” Mims said. “They’ll come.”
“Sure, they will.”
Penelope had not done any talking, and I was just as pleased. I was still mad over her riding out and leaving us in the night that way.
Taking the bulk of Cienequilla del Barro Mountain for a landmark, I kept on west and when it was well after dark I changed direction several times until we were close under the shadow of the mountain. Then we switched and turned northeast toward the creek where the gold had been buried.
Mims drew up suddenly. “Sackett, I don’t like the smell of this. Something’s wrong.”
Of course it was … but what? It had gone off too easy, altogether too easy. I was sure we had not been followed, but what if there had been no need? Supposing we had been observed earlier in the day? Observed in the vicinity, even if not while burying the gold.
Maybe they knew approximately where we had gone, but not exactly. There was a good deal of smoke, the clouds were low, and there might have been intervening trees or brush. As I thought of it, it was plain enough to me that they might have been watching from up on the Rabbit Ears.
“What’s wrong?” Penelope asked.
“Mims has got a hunch we’re walking into some land of a trap.”
“How could that be? They’re all back there.”
“Are they?”
A faint breeze stirred across the bunch grass levels, but it brought with it none of the canyon’s smoke, for that was all to the east of us now. The clouds were heavy and it was now full dark. A horse stamped impatiently. The horses wanted water, they wanted rest, and they wanted grass. I had a feeling it would be hours before they were that lucky.
“All right,” I said, “let’s go on.”
Moving ahead, I walked the dun slowly, pausing often to listen, but there was no sound beyond those to be expected—the sound of the horses’ hoofs in the grass, the creak of saddle leather.
We were within two hundred yards of the Cienequilla when I drew up again, but again I heard no sound. Flinch would have been the one on the mountain, of course, whether it was their idea of his. He would have been Indian enough to go up on the Rabbit Ears where he could watch everything that took place. He could not have seen us get the gold, but he could draw some conclusions from the way the pack horses moved.
So what would they do now? Wait in hiding until we had the gold out and loaded again? That would be what Bishop would want, but would the others be patient enough for that?
Suddenly I knew what I was going to do.
“Harry, do you know the peak called Sierra Grande? Due west from here?”
“I know it.”
“Six or seven miles south of it there’s an outcropping of lava and there’s a peak there about four hundred feet high. When we get the gold loaded, you and Pen head due west for that lava flow and hole up somewhere south of the peak.
“You can water your norses on the Middle Fork of the Burro, but water won’t be a problem. There are scattered ponds all over that country. Go on to the Carrizo if you want to, but it’s about thirty miles, probably nearer forty the way you’ll have to go to the peak. I wouldn’t go out of my way if I can help it.”
“What about you?” Penelope asked.
“It’s dark. You move off quietly and they’ll never know. I’ll stay behind and tumble rocks around, cave in the bank here and there, make them think we were digging or hunting for the place. I figure I can give you an hour’s start before they close in.”
“And after they close in?”
“Why, there’s liable to be a little difficulty, Penelope. I sort of doubt if they’ll take my word, but I figure to be convincing.”
“And then?”
“I’ll come and join you.”
There was a long moment of silence, and then she said, “There will be six of them—seven counting Sylvie … and just you.”
“Maybe I can slip away before they close in.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“That’s a lot of gold.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier just to shoot Mr. Mims and me? There’s only two of us.”
“We’re wastin’ time talking like this. Anyway, I was never much on doing things the easy way. We’ll ride in now. If we’re lucky we’ll get the gold loaded and you out of here before there’s trouble.”
With that, I turned my horse and rode on to the creek. I felt pretty sure that they were close by, and that they would wait until we had the gold uncovered … it all depended on that. But you couldn’t be sure about Sylvie and Ralph. Nobody knew when they’d go off half-cocked.