Conagher (1969) (16 page)

After a few moments he began to gathe r some sticks together. Did he dare build a fire? There seemed little likelihood tha t the flames could be seen, and as for smoke , it was already night, and the chances wer e small.

With trembling fingers he shredde d bark, added twigs, and lit a small fire, t o which he then added some large twigs.

The light cheered him, and the warmt h felt good.

Carefully, he looked all around him.

The rock wall of one of the pinnacles wa s at his back, trees and brush were aroun d him, and the basin, so far as he could see , was empty.

Thinking back, he recalled the twiste d way he had come, and how he ha d emerged along the face of the jagged rock.

No rider could have reached that place , and, looking up from below, they coul d not have seen the break between th e overlapping rocks.

So he had vanished.

Would they come back in the mornin g to look? It was possible, even likely. Bu t from here he could control the opening , and nobody was going to get in a s long as ammunition and strength held out.

With careful fingers he felt of his bac k and found a deep gouge where a bullet, o r a fragment of one, had entered the fles h slightly above his hipbone and had cu t through the flesh along his ribs, jus t nicking the thick muscle before going off.

It was a painful wound, but not a seriou s one. He had lost blood, and it was going t o hurt when he moved, for his side was badl y bruised, and possibly some ribs wer e broken, though they did not feel like it.

The bullet must have glanced up fro m the cantle of his saddle. The cold an d perhaps the thickness of his woole n underwear and shirt had stopped th e bleeding for the time being.

He had no coffee, nothing. He drank a little water heated in a dish he made fro m bark, an old trick he had often used. Th e flames heated the water but did not bur n the bark as long as they only touched i t below the water level. The water insid e absorbed the heat.

The hot water helped to warm him, an d then he dug out a place among the leave s and pine needles, cowered deep within hi s sheepskin coat, and went to sleep.

He awoke shivering in the cold morning , with the last stars solitary in the vas t darkness. He started to sit up, felt a twing e of pain, and lay still again. He was going t o have the devil's own time of it, he coul d see that. He was miles from the ST
h eadquarters, without a horse, withou t food, and wounded. Although the calenda r said this was a month of spring, th e weather gave no indication of it, and eve n a tenderfoot would have known he was i n serious trouble.

After some struggle he got his fire goin g again. Fortunately there were a good man y dry branches lying around, and there wer e the remains of a fallen tree and some pin e cones. He could reach enough fuel to kee p his fire going for some time withou t moving around too much. Once the flame s leaped up, he eased himself into a sittin g position, favoring his wounded side.

The effort left him gasping, and he sa t still, letting the fire warm him, an d reaching for an occasional stick.

If they came back they might find him , but they might not. The snow was gon e from the top of the talus slope along whic h he had come, and the ground was frozen.

He might have left no tracks on that froze n ground.

They might find some broken twig s where he had forced a way over the brush , but even that was a question. But did the y need to find him at all? They knew he wa s wounded, they knew the cold was no t over, and they knew how small is th e chance of a wounded man, who has los t blood, in fighting off the cold.

They only needed to keep him bottle d up here. They did not need to find him , and to run the risk of coming in after him , which would be like going into a den afte r a bear. They could just ride a patro l around the area and be sure he did no t leave it.

Smoke Parnell had been out there. An d the voice he had heard had sounded lik e that of Tile Coker . . . both tough men.

When he was warm enough to take a n interest in his hideout, he looked aroun d and assayed his situation. So far as h e could see, there was only one opening, th e one through which he had gained access.

Because of the sheltered position, the gras s had already begun to turn green, and ther e were leaf buds on the cottonwoods. On th e far side of the hollow, where the su n reached only briefly, the snow had froze n into a bank of ice.

There was fuel enough at hand for som e time, there was shelter in some of th e rocky overhangs and there might be herb s with which he could treat his wounds.

Using his left hand, he caught hold of a branch and pulled himself erect. Prowlin g along the slope, he found some cliff rose, a resinous, strong-smelling plant, sometime s called quinine bush. It was a plan t important as winter browse for deer , cattle, and sheep; and judging by remnant s he had found in caves, Conagher kne w that the primitive pre-Indian peoples ha d used to braid the bark into sandals, rope , and mats. The Hopis used the wood fo r making arrows, but what was importan t for Conagher at the moment was tha t they used the plant to make a wash fo r wounds.

He gathered some of the bark, leaves , and smaller twigs and began to heat the lo t in his improvised bark dish. When it ha d boiled, he stripped and, using his bandan a and taking his time, bathed his woun d with the decoction, his sheepskin over hi s shoulders to keep him from getting to o chilled.

Whether it did any good he was no t sure, although he knew that the Hopi s swore by it. After that he wandered about , found some dry spectacle pod, crushed i t to powder, and put it on the wound , another remedy used by both the Hop i and Tewa Indians.

After an hour or so of lying beside th e fire, he began to think more about food.

Conagher was a man who had often misse d meals. Going hungry was not a ne w experience, though not a pleasant one, bu t food was a necessity now if he was t o recover and regain the strength it woul d take to get him out of this situation.

Animals and birds must know of thi s place, he thought. Men, if they had eve r discovered it, had left no signs here. But i f animals came here, he should be able t o trap or kill one for food.

After a time he got up and moved hi s camp to the overhang. This had th e advantage of bringing him within range o f a new supply of fuel. Sitting by the fire, h e carefully studied the plants within rang e of his eyes. Meanwhile he chewed on a couple of leaves from the salt bush. Ho w much food value they possessed he had n o idea, but they gave him the satisfaction o f chewing and the taste was pleasant.

He was very thirsty and went often t o the stream to drink. He saw rabbi t droppings near the water and the tracks o f several small animals in the sand near th e stream.

After a while he lay down again, feelin g very tired. It was only with an effort tha t he could replenish his fire, but he kept i t alive. The wood was dry and gave of f almost no smoke.

He slept, but awoke suddenly, feelin g the chill of night. Evening had come an d his fire had burned itself down to gray ash.

Only one small branch still glowed. He fe d it gingerly with tiny bits of shredded bark , then with twigs.

Conagher stripped off his shirt and , hanging the coat over his shoulders fo r warmth, bathed his wound again with ho t water and cliff rose, then powdered it wit h the crushed spectacle pod.

After he put on his clothes he walke d with great care down to the bank of th e stream. In the brush close by he rigged a couple of snares, and then went over to th e notch through which he had crawled.

Peering out, he could see only a patch o f sky, and below it the darkness where th e earth lay, the valley below the rim wher e he had taken refuge.

Kneeling down, he began with hi s bowie knife to cut the brush away so tha t he could tunnel through to the other side.

He would work a few minutes, then stop t o rest and to listen. Once he believed h e heard movement, but when he continue d to listen for a long time there was n o further sound. After a while, havin g scarcely made a dent in the clump o f brush, he went back to his camp, adde d fuel to the fire, and lay down, huddling a s much of him as possible under th e sheepskin coat.

He slept, dreaming wild dreams, and h e awoke in a cold sweat. His side hurt hi m and he wanted to change his sleepin g position, but every movement hurt, so h e lay quiet listening to the leaves whisperin g and the subtle movements of smal l creatures. When morning came his snare s were empty.

On this day he chewed some of th e leaves from the salt bush, drank wate r from the stream, slept, and woke again. H
e found and ate some juniper berries, an d rigged another snare.

In the night he awoke, built up the fire , and huddled near it with the back wall o f the overhang as a reflector that threw th e heat back toward him. His head ached an d he was very tired, but he did not feel lik e sleeping. He heated water, crushed som e of the juniper berries into it, and drank th e liquid. He had heard that the Hopi s sometimes made a tea from junipe r berries. After a while he slept again, an d when he awoke it was raining.

For a time he huddled over his fire, hi s feeling of irritation growing. Finally h e lurched to his feet, moved everythin g inflammable away from the fire, and takin g his rifle, went back to the opening.

Listening, he heard nothing. Then h e hacked at the wall of thorny brush until a partial opening was made. He had starte d to go through, then stopped, went bac k and tore down his empty snares. H
e wanted nothing to be trapped there to di e uselessly.

He forced his way through the brush , paused, and listened, but he heard nothin g except the soft fall of rain.

Weak though he was, he had decide d that to stay here longer would only mea n that he would grow weaker. He worked hi s way along the comb-like ridge, and foun d a place where he could climb down slowl y and painfully.

Off?to the right he saw what seemed t o be the glow of a fire, and he started towar d it. He needed food and he needed a horse , and he would be damned if he was going t o go without them when his enemiesi f that was who they werehad both.

Judging by the stars, it was pas t midnight when he came close to the fire. I t was burning brightly under a crudel y made shelter.

First he noted where the horses wer e tied, and then he saw his own horse ther e among them. Evidently they had foun d the horse running loose on the prairie, an d had roped and kept it.

He looked around the camp. There wer e three men there, two of them in their beds , sleeping; the other was dozing beside th e fire.

Conn Conagher was weak as a cat, bu t he was mad clear through. He had a bitte r anger that drove him recklessly, and he di d not hesitate. He walked right into th e camp, kicked the rifle away from the hand s of the man who dozed, and put a bulle t into the ground between the two sleepin g men.

One of them was young Curly Scott, th e other was Smoke Parnell himself. Th e man by the fire was Pete Casuse.

The two sleeping men jerked erect an d Conagher held the gun on them .
Dam n you, Smoke , he said, if I wasn't weak a s a cat I'd beat you within an inch of you r life. Now you lay right there, and yo u make a move, even to scratch, and so hel p me, I'll put a bullet in your belly.

You
, he said to Casuse , dish up a plate of that grub, and hurry .

Si
.
Casuse started to rise.

Stay where you are. Just reach ove r and ladle it up, and use your right hand. I never shot a man who wasn't holding iron , but right now I just don't give a damn .

He lowered his rifle, slid his six-gun int o his hand, and proceeded to feed himsel f with his left hand.

I hope you try something , he sai d grimly .
I just hope you do. I'd like t o bury the three of you right on this spot.

Now, Smoke
, he said , I'm going t o ride out of here. You boys are then goin g to get up and leave the country, and if yo u stop this side of Tascosa or Trinidad , you're crazier than I think you are. You'v e had your try at me and you failed, but as o f noon tomorrow I'm hunting you, and I'
m going to shoot on sight, without an y warning whatsoever. I am going to rid e your sign until you've killed me or I've pu t lead in all of you .

Parnell stared at him .
You're loco!

You're plumb, completely loco !

Maybe . . . but you've given me grief , and I'll take no more from any man. Al l I'm going to give you is a running start .

He finished the plate of food and thre w down the plate, then he drank three cup s of coffee. Parnell made a slight move, and a bullet burned his shoulder.

Conagher swore. He had meant to hi t him, but it was evidence of his weaknes s that he had missed .
You , he said t o Casuse , you get my horse and saddle up , and don't try anything foolish .

Moving slightly to keep the Mexica n under his eyes, he watched him saddle u p and carefully tighten the girth.

Conagher then moved around to pick u p the reins with his left hand. His grip on th e gun was very weak. Parnell was watchin g him.

Hell
, the outlaw said , you're s o weak you can scarcely stand .