Ambush on the Mesa (16 page)

Hugh stepped back. He passed the wounded man. “
Muy hombre
,” he said.

Darrell Phillips smiled for the first time in many days.

• • •

Clymer eased his big shoulders through the opening into the second floor. He waited for Hugh. They placed their hands on the beam and tested it. “Ready?” asked Hugh.

Clymer nodded.

They swung together. The beam end thudded against the rocks and bounced heavily back. They swung again and again. “No good!” said Clymer.

“Keep trying, you big bastard!”

Sweat streamed from their bodies. The beam began
a
steady thud-thud-thud against the stubborn wall. The Hohokam had built well….

High on the northern wall of the canyon the Mimbrenos threw back their blankets as they heard the thudding noise coming from the Place Of The Dead. They stood up and got their weapons….

A rock cracked and then fell from the wall. Another shifted and then fell. The end of the beam was fraying and splintering. Again and again the tattoo went on. Sweat streamed from the bodies of the two big men and a foul miasma rose from their stinking clothing to mingle with the bitter smell of dust….

Silently the Mimbrenos came down the canyon wall, testing the dawn air with all their senses. They stopped on the canyon floor and faded into the unburned brush….

The beam smashed through. Clymer went off balance and hit the wall, Hugh hung onto the beam and grinned. “Made it,” he said.

They smashed with renewed fury. Rocks and ancient mortar crumbled beneath the savage onslaught.

• • •

Darrell Phillips wet his lips and then began to crawl toward the terrace wall, inching his way along until he could pull himself up on his good leg. There was a movement on the slope just below him. A bushy head rose from the brush. The Colt roared. The big slug smashed the buck back down the slope.

Phillips set his jaw. The agony in his leg made him feel faint. He braced his elbow on the wall and fired at a darting Mimbreno. The warrior fell and rolled down the slope.

“
Zastee! Zastee! Zastee!
Kill! Kill! Kill!” chanted the aroused warriors.

Rifles flashed in the light of dawn. Bullets pattered against the dwelling walls and sang eerily off into space. Phillips fired twice more, adding another notch to his tally. Then he stood there and laughed.

The Mimbrenos had scuttled for cover, shrieking in dismay….

There was now a hole in the wall big enough for a man to get through. Clymer and Hugh worked swiftly, cursing in their mad haste. They shoved beams across into the hole. Marion was helped up the ladder by Katy.

They could hear the smash of rifle and pistol fire near the terrace. Clymer leaned out of the west window and snapped out a few shots from his Colt.

Hugh tightened his belt, thrust some sotol stalks into his shirt, then teetered across to the hole, carrying his carbine. He turned and looked back. Katy was standing there, helping Marion up onto the shaky makeshift bridge.

Hugh looked down into the hole. It was pitch black down there. He hastily lit a sotol stalk and waved it to make sure it would burn. He looked down again. The floor of the fault sloped steeply upward and was littered with something brownish. But he felt a blessed draft of cold air on his heated face. There was a way through!

He dropped the stalk. It was about ten feet down to the floor. Katy passed canteens and weapons across to Hugh. Hugh reached across for Marion. Her face was set as she came across. “Put your legs through and drop,” said Hugh.

She shook her head.

“Go on, Hugh!” called Katy.

Rifle fire broke out again. Clymer fired steadily. Hugh hung for a moment and then dropped, hitting hard on something which crackled below his feet, loosing a curious musty smell. He looked up, vaguely seeing Marion. “Drop!” he yelled. “Damn it, woman! Drop!”

Then she landed heavily beside him and clung to him. Above them they could hear the muffled roaring of guns. Katy landed beyond them. Then the big body of Clymer came through the hole. They clambered up the steep slope toward the fresher air, floundering through material which cracked and snapped beneath them. Hugh fell heavily. His free hand touched something smooth and round.

Clymer cursed. “Move on!” he yelled.

• • •

Darrell Phillips jerked as a slug smashed into his right shoulder. He shifted his Colt to his left hand and steadied the heavy weapon. Somehow he felt calm and cool. A bushy head appeared beyond the wall. Phillips fired, driving the buck from sight.

He raised his head. “Come on, you bastards,” he said.

A knife flew through the air and struck him in the left side of the neck. He fired his last shot. Then a bullet struck him full in the forehead and he went down for eternity.

• • •

The firing had died away. Hugh struggled to his feet, still clutching the rounded object in his free hand.

“Light!” roared Clymer. He lit a match and held it out They looked about them. Marion Nettleton looked at the rounded thing in Hugh’s hand. Then she looked down at her legs, buried up to the knees in loose material. Then she screamed again and again as the match flared out in the draft.

Hugh dropped the brown skull he held in his hands. He moved, feeling the dry bones crackle beneath his feet Katy Corse drew in a sharp breath.

Marion Nettleton screamed again and then became silent.

“Jesus!” said Clymer. “It’s their catacombs!”

Hugh gripped Katy by the arm and pulled her up the slope. They could hear the others floundering around below them.

“You think they’ll come through the hole?” called Clymer.

Hugh grunted. “Into here? You wouldn’t get them within half a mile of this place if they knew it was here.”

He cracked his head against a rock wall. He felt for a sotol stalk and lit it. The passageway was narrow, hardly wide enough for them to get through. He worked his way upward until he felt the coolness of the dawn wind pouring about him. Then suddenly his head emerged even with the mesa floor. “Wait!” he cautioned Katy.

He crawled out on the ground and lay still, listening and peering about. The brush swayed in the wind. There was no sign of life. He pulled Katy up beside him. She shivered in the coolness. “Thank God!” she said.

Clymer pushed Marion up ahead of him. Her face was pale and drawn. She dropped on the ground and lay still.

Hugh picked up his carbine. “I’ll scout,” he said.

He padded through the rustling brush. There wasn’t a warrior in sight. He worked his way to the edge of the mesa and cautiously peered down into the canyon. There were no warriors down there either.

He returned to the others. “Keep your eyes peeled,” he said to Clymer.

“Where are you going?”

“Down below.”

“You loco?”

“You’ll see.”

Hugh slid down the slope, wrinkling his nose at the musty odor. He looked up at the hole. He could hear slurring voices faintly through the hole. He grinned as he thought of those superstitious bucks dropping down into the charnel house. He gathered up half a dozen skulls and threaded a picket line through the eye holes. Then he hauled them up to the mesa top.

“You damned fool!” said Clymer. He clamped a dirty hand over Marion’s mouth to stifle the scream that trembled on her lips.

Hugh cut mesquite branches and bundled them together. He thrust one into a cranny and placed a skull atop it, facing the hole. “Just in case,” he said. “Let’s go!”

They walked toward the west, keeping to the lower ground. Hugh planted another skull at a place where they could make their way down the western slopes.

T
HE SUN
was high when they rested in a cleft which cracked through a great pillar of rock. There had been no sign of pursuit. Hugh let them rest for an hour, then drove them on. They descended the side of the huge brooding mesa and stopped again in the middle of the afternoon.

It was dusk when they reached a small stream. They filled canteens and then went on until the faint moon tinged the eastern sky.

Hugh looked back at the mesa. “Starvation Mesa,” he said.

They reached the San Francisco in four days of hellish travel. In all that time Marion Nettleton spoke hardly a word. Katy took care of her as though she were a child, binding cloth about her small feet, and feeding her with the meat of a deer Hugh had killed. Abel Clymer didn’t speak much either.

They rested at the river for two days, then trended north along its course, keeping away from the faint trails they saw. It was murderous going, but Hugh drove them like cattle.

They found a good spring after three more days of travel. Here they made camp and rested. Hugh killed another deer and fashioned rude moccasins for the women. It was as though they had wandered off the earth and were traveling on some unknown, uninhabited planet.

• • •

Hugh could feel the pebbles through the thin soles of his boots as he waded across the stream. He had caught a reflection of himself in a clear pool and hadn’t recognized himself. His beard was matted and filthy and his clothing wasn’t fit for a self-respecting scarecrow. He dropped on the far bank of the stream and drank the cold water. Then he left the stream and headed steadily through the rough mountains, heading for the Rio Grande. The others were three days’ travel behind him, holed up in a cave near a good spring.

Suddenly he passed a huge outcropping of rock and looked out on a distant plain, mottled with the drifting shadows of clouds. There was a thread of dust rising not more than a mile away from him. The sun sparkled on something. He took out his field glasses with shaking hands and looked at the dust. “Troopers!” he said. “By God, Troopers!”

• • •

He led the two horses and mules up the rocky trail. “Hello the cave!” he called.

Abel Clymer appeared carrying his carbine. “Kinzie!”

Katy Corse came out of the cave and brushed back her hair with a tired hand. She smiled when she saw Hugh.

Hugh tethered the mounts and took a pack from one of them. “It isn’t much as to quality,” he said, “but there’s plenty of it. I met a patrol from Fort Craig. They were looking for Apache raiders.”

“Why didn’t they come for us?” demanded Clymer.

Hugh looked at the big man. “I was lucky enough to get horses and mules from them. As it was, some of them had to ride double.”

“How far are we from the Rio?”

“About sixty-five miles.”

Clymer was busy opening the pack. “We’ll leave tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

Clymer ripped open the pack and reached for a chunk of jerky. Hugh clamped a hand on the officer’s wrist. “Remember the ladies,” he said quietly.

Hugh carried the pack into the cave. Marion Nettleton was lying down. She sat up at Katy’s urging and obediently ate what was handed to her.

They ate silently, looking at each other. “I never thought we’d make it,” said Katy.

“We’re not out of here yet,” said Hugh.

Marion Nettleton carefully brushed hardtack crumbs from her filthy dress. “I’d like some cherries for dessert,” she said.

Clymer stopped his sandwich halfway to his mouth. “What the hell!”

Marion smiled. “With fresh cream over them.”

Katy stared at her.

Marion looked at Hugh. “I always have cherries when they’re in season,” she said. There was a peculiar look on her face. She touched her hair and then leaned back against the side of the cave. “After dinner I’ll have them bring my pony cart around and we’ll all go for a ride. I have two matched Shetland ponies.”

“Jesus,” said Clymer. “She’s gone looney!”

Katy looked at the two men. “Get out of here!”

They walked outside. Hugh reached inside his shirt and brought out a packet. He undid it and handed Clymer three cigars. He kept two for himself. “Lieutenant Espinosa sent these with his compliments.”

Clymer bit off the end of one of the dry cigars and lit up. He eyed Hugh through the smoke. “You tell him what happened?”

“All I said was that we’d been attacked by Apaches and there were only four of us left. I didn’t feel like going into details.”

“Good.”

Hugh looked quickly at the big man.

Clymer waved his cigar. “I mean, being as I’m in command now, I’ll have to make out a report to the department commander, and I’ll be blasted if I want to go through all the details.”

“Yes.” Hugh lit a cigar. “Funny damned thing about Nettleton vanishing at the last minute. You don’t suppose he broke free by himself?”

“Hell no!” Clymer scratched himself. “You say we’re about sixty-five miles from the Rio, eh?”

“Roughly.”

“Hard trail?”

“Not too bad.”

“How does it go?”

Hugh sucked at his cigar. “Past that big peak just to the north and east. Follow the San Augustin Plains north for a time, then head east again between the Gallinas Mountains and the San Mateos.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“Seems damned easy.”

“It is.”

Clymer stood up. “Well, I’ll clean up a little.”

“There’s soap in the pack.”

Clymer nooded and walked away.

“I wonder if that sonofabitch ever thanks anybody for anything,” said Hugh to an inquisitive jaybird.

The jay twitched his head and flew off. Hugh laughed.

Katy Corse came out of the cave. She looked down at Hugh. “Thanks,” she said.

“It’s all right, Katy. It’s my job.”

“We owe you our lives.”

“Forget it.”

She sat down beside him. “She’s going back to her childhood, Hugh. She just told me she had more party dresses than any girl in town, and that she’d rule the White House better than Dolly Madison when her father became president.”

Hugh shook his head. “She’ll be all right after a rest.”

“I suppose the loss of Maurice did it.”

He eyed her. “Marion? Don’t be silly. She never thought of anyone but herself.”

“She seemed to like you, Hugh.”

He grinned. “
Everybody
likes me, Katy!”

She stood up and eyed the ruins of her dress. “I wish you could have brought us some clothes,” she said.

“I’ll go right back!” Hugh stood up. “I’m sure those
cavalrymen will have at least four or five ladies’ dresses in their saddlebags.”

“You’re a fool, Hugh Kinzie.”

Suddenly he drew her close and kissed her hard. “I know,” he said. “You’ll forgive me, Katy? I did a lot of thinking when I was alone on the trail.”

She returned his kiss. “There’s nothing to forgive, Hugh.”

They walked toward the cave. “Watch Clymer,” she said quietly. “He’s been acting peculiar.”

“He always did.”

“He’s been asking me if I was sure she’ll live long enough to reach the Rio Grande.”

“Very solicitous.”

“He worries me.”

Hugh shrugged. “You’ll soon be rid of him,” he said.

• • •

Hugh lay on his blanket listening to the voices of Marion and Katy coming from the cave. Katy sounded like a mother talking to a ten-year-old girl. The wind soughed through the trees. Clymer had rolled up in his blanket long ago and was asleep twenty feet from Hugh. Hugh lay there for a long time listening to the night sounds. Something was missing. Then he realized what it was. Clymer was a heavy breather and his deep breathing while he slept had always annoyed Hugh.

Hugh got up on an elbow and looked through the shadowy dimness toward Clymer. Not a sound came from the big man.

One of the mules brayed suddenly from down in the hollow. Hugh stood up and picked up his Colt. He padded toward the hollow. Suddenly he stopped and looked toward Clymer. Best to wake him up if Apaches were prowling about.

Hugh stopped beside the big man and bent down to place a hand on his forehead in order to wake him up without startling him. He stared down at the sleeping man and then stood up. Quickly he stepped behind a tree. He eyed the darkness, listening for every sound. The soughing of the wind; the rustling of small rodents; the splashing of the creek.

Hugh circled around through the trees to his own blanket. Swiftly he gathered dry grass and placed it in a heap. He threw the blanket over it and patted it here and there to
make it look as though a body were beneath it. Then he placed his hat at the head end. He pulled off his boots and placed them beside the dummy. Then he eased into the brush and squatted there, ten feet from his bed.

Abel Clymer walked softly for a man his size. He had heard that damned mule bray but he had heard nothing from the camp. He eased through the scrub trees until he could see Kinzie’s body beneath a bush.

Clymer drew his knife and tested the edge on a broad thumb. He wet his thick lips and felt inside his shirt for the government drafts. The game was all but won. First get Kinzie and then Katy Corse. Marion Nettleton was out of her mind. The whole thing fitted together neatly.

He’d be the biggest damned hero in the Southwest. All he had to do was say Kinzie and the girl had been ambushed on the last leg of the journey to the Rio Grande. Kinzie had done his job. Katy was not to be reached by money or threats. Marion was mind-gone-far as Kinzie had said of Isaiah Morton. No one would listen to her ramblings, and even if she did regain her sanity, Clymer could always say she had imagined many of the things which had actually transpired.

Hugh heard Clymer before he saw him. He squatted lower to get the big man against the sky. Clymer stopped behind a tree. Then Hugh saw the upraised arm and the knife. “Clymer,” he said harshly.

Clymer moved with instantaneous reaction. He whirled and lunged toward the sound of Hugh’s voice. Hugh foolishly rose to meet the attack. He was driven aside as though by a charging grizzly. His Colt flew from his hand.

Clymer whirled and struck savagely at Hugh with the knife. The tip raked across Hugh’s chest. Hugh grunted in pain. Clymer laughed. Hugh jumped behind a tree, feeling for the knife in the sheath at his back. It was gone. Bark flew from the tree as Clymer slashed viciously at Hugh.

Hugh jumped back. Clymer charged again. This time Hugh gripped Clymer’s knife wrist with his right hand. He stepped aside, thrusting his right leg in front of Clymer. Clymer fell heavily over the leg.

Hugh felt about for a rock or a branch. Then he was forced to retreat as Clymer rolled to his feet, roared like a bear, and came on again. Hugh’s foot slipped and he went
down before the mad rush. His wind was nearly knocked out of him. Clymer slashed at Hugh’s face. The blade sank into the dirt inches from his head.

Hugh kneed the big man in the groin. They rolled over and over down the slope. Clymer’s head hit a tree. He shook it. Then he got up to meet a straight left which drove him back. Hugh followed through with a right hook. Clymer was staggered, but there was a tremendous vitality in his body.

Hugh stepped back. His foot hit something. It was his Colt. Clymer hurdled a log and came at Hugh, weaving a pattern of cuts and slashes at the air. He mumbled to himself.

Hugh fired from the hip. Clymer staggered as the slug hit home. He shook his big head and came on again. Hugh fired two more times. The shots awoke the echoes. Birds scattered from the trees.

Clymer swayed in a cloud of powder smoke. He stared at Hugh with bulging eyes. “Damn it!” he said. “I’m not supposed to die like this. Not General Clymer!”

Hugh stared at the big man. Then Abel Clymer pitched forward on his face and lay still with the powder smoke rifting where he had fallen.

Hugh thrust his Colt under his belt. He walked to Clymer and rolled him over. The cold green eyes were already clouding.

Katy ran to Hugh. “What happened?”

“He tried to kill me.”

Hugh felt for the big man’s oxlike heart. Something crackled beneath the filthy shirt. Hugh unbuttoned it and felt inside. His fingers moved in an unpleasant stickiness. He drew out a thick fold of papers.

Hugh stood up. He lit a match and handed it to Katy. He looked at the papers. “Government drafts,” he said. He wiped the blood from his fingers. “I’ve done my job,” he said quietly.

“He would have been quite the hero to come into Santa Fe with two women, one of them Boss Bennett’s daughter, and with twenty thousands dollars’ worth of government drafts in his hands.”

“
Two
women? You didn’t think he’d take you there to talk, did you, Katy?”

She shivered. “Come stay with me in the cave, Hugh.”

“With
her
there?” He shook his head. “You stay with me instead, Katy.”

She looked up at him. “All right, Hugh.”

Hugh helped her up the slope. They did not look back….

• • •

They drew rein on a rise and looked to the east. There was a darker green line against the light green and gray of the brush flats. Hugh turned to Katy. “The Rio Bravo,” he said. “The Rio Grande!”

She leaned over and rested a hand on his.

“I have more party dresses than any other little girl in town,” a calm voice said behind them.

“Yes, Marion,” said Katy.

“You must call me Miss Bennett.”

“Miss Bennett.”

“That’s better.”

Hugh turned north rather than south. “There are garrisons all the way up the Rio,” he said. “We can travel in style to santa Fe.”

“It’s all over, isn’t it, Hugh?”

He shrugged. “I’ve cleared my brother and brought back Marion Bennett.”

“
Miss
Bennett,” insisted the calm voice behind them.

“Miss Bennett,” said Hugh.

“You’ll get your commission now,” said Katy.

“Probably.”

“I’ll wait for you, Hugh.”

He smiled. “I know you will. But it will be a long wait.”

She glanced at him. “As sweetheart or wife, Hugh?”

“Both,” he said.

Hugh looked back at the distant mountains, hazy purple and mysterious. They had taken heavy toll from the thirteen souls who had dared to enter them.