Coyote (19 page)

I lit out — my three black beauties, their tails high and prancing, were more than ready for trouble. They were well rested, well petted, and I had no doubt their desires would be soon fulfilled.

I just kept chanting the directions. ‘Head southwest … find the great red rock shaped like a brave sitting astride a horse … turn due south and ride for a day … the entry to Big Sun Canyon is two red pillars called Coyote's Fangs.'

For the hour before I left, even as I was saddling up the girls, the Abbess had driven me wild. She'd repeated one thing, and one thing only: ‘You must get to Coyote's Fangs as soon as possible. Don't stop for anything. And don't let anything stop you.'

But every time the Abbess told me to get my arse into Big Sun Canyon as fast as possible, because no one would dare follow me in, you could see her falter at the thought of what could await me once inside those blood-red gates.

Her parting words were, ‘Don't let them catch you in The Badlands, boy.'

 

I know how The Badlands got its name.

From the Santa Avia Mountains, it looked flat, but close up it was an arid stretch of blackish-grey wasteland, pitted with rock-filled arroyos and meandering, shallow gullies. And each one held its own nasty little surprise package.

At the start the vales were just full of thorny bracken, bristling with poisonous reptiles and clusters of twittering birds.

It was the birds that frightened the living crap out of me. If we scared the birds they'd scatter shrieking and act like a natural alarm system, warning every predator within earshot of our presence.

My three equine warriors became as quiet as possible, expertly picking their way up and down the rocky slopes … without a stone disturbed, nor a hoof beat sounded. They knew.

But between the thorns, the snakes, the birds and the constant tramping up and down the gully slopes, we slowed to a trot at best and an excruciating crawl at worst.

The sweat from my anxiety made my fingers slip on the reins.

The longer we took to get through this wasteland, the more likely we were to be discovered. And the lack of a clear view ahead meant we could be ambushed at any moment. Every time we rode up the other side of an arroyo, my heart raced and I went into a cold sweat, waiting to see if the next gully was occupied.

And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse — it did. We stumbled into the inner circle of hell.

When we'd made it to Chieftain Rock, I thought we'd be okay. I'd found water as per the Abbess' instructions, fed and rested the girls, then turned due south also as instructed … But then the landscape transformed, as though the closer we got to Big Sun Canyon the more toxic the land became.

The slopes of the arroyos deepened into cruelly steep cliffs that could collapse under the girls' hooves into bone-breaking avalanches. The thorny bracken gave way to forests of eerie purple-yellow cacti that towered over our heads in bizarre shapes and forms, mimicking attacking monsters. The weird cacti were covered in foot-long black spines, razor sharp and dripping with some kind of nasty yellowish juice.

Here and there, the rigid bodies of tiny animals, and even birds, hung impaled on the spines.

I'd never seen or heard of anything like these purple-yellow cacti before. But the three mares'd showed the whites of their eyes and backed away at the first sight of it.

It chilled me to the bone.

This place was the perfect setting for an ambush … a natural trap from which it was impossible to escape.

It took me far too long to talk the girls into the first cactus forest, and every step deeper into this spine-filled territory they'd held a fragile truce with their panic. I softly crooned to them, and to myself, for comfort.

Then at the bottom of one nerve-rackingly steep ravine the cactus forest became totally impenetrable. A lethal wall.

It took me an hour to find a way through. It was a tiny tunnel into that horrible purple-yellow wall. I dismounted and led the way in. The mares followed, shivering. We were now encased in a long, narrow cage of spines dripping a yellow poison.

My breath became shallow, panting. It would just take one spine to scrape just one of my girls … just one sharp prick and they'd all erupt into a lashing, kicking explosion of flesh — and it would be as though we'd been forced through a meat grinder.

I was as scared as I've ever been. But I fought my panic. If I lost control of it, the girls would too. I clung to one thought, one piece of hope — if the Abbess was right we'd soon be in sight of Coyote's Fangs. Very soon.

We struggled to the end of the tunnel, shaken. I wanted to stop, to rest, but was afraid to. ‘If it just doesn't get any worse …' I muttered. ‘If it just stays like this and we stay calm, then we'll make it.'

But then it got much worse …

We climbed the steep slope up and out of the ravine, me riding Incendio with Azucar and Duquesa following us in a single line … Suddenly I felt a jolt to the top of my head — as though an anvil or a piano had fallen out of the sky, just like in one of those kids' cartoons.

The air sparkled in front of my eyes, shimmered once and then went back to normal.

I checked my aching head. Nothing had hit me …

Seeing my distress, Azucar and Duquesa immediately moved forwards and onto either side of me. Incendio swung her great head back to study me. Her fearful eyes pleaded with me to go forwards, to get them out of this nightmare before they broke.

But every time I decided to ride forwards and down into the next gully, the air would shimmer in front of me.

I took a deep breath. It was time to check out our position again anyway. From the ridge top, I scanned the way ahead, to the south. A long line of high cliffs
blazed white in the hot sun. At last! That had to be the walls of Big Sun Canyon. We were so close … so very close.

I looked down into the gully just below us, but could see nothing. A thick shield of purple-yellow cacti hid the contents from view. Damn! Not another tunnel!

I scanned the gully again.

The gully was quiet … Maybe it was too quiet? No birds singing … no scurrying reptiles or rodents.

Suddenly my forehead became unbearably itchy. I dug my nails in, scratching it to the point of pain.

Then for some unknown reason, a wave of paralysing terror swept through me …

I wasn't going down into that gully!

There was a thick grove of stunted pinyon trees to our immediate left. I moved us silently into its dark cover and waited, while I fought with my fear.

Half an hour must've passed, filled with too many rapid heartbeats. Then gradually my cold sweat dried and the paralysing terror receded before a driving urge to get to Big Sun Canyon as fast as possible.

I noiselessly pulled out my binoculars and scanned those white cliffs again. I could see a dark crevice in the walls. I focused on it. No, those were two dark columns … Two pillars that just had to be red!

I scanned the land between us and Coyote's Fangs and felt a quick rush of hope.

It looked as though The Badlands flattened out into a smooth plain dotted with mounds of giant red boulders.

If it did, then we could be at those red pillars in forty minutes … maybe even less.

I stashed my binoculars and looked down at the gully below. We had to go down there. I took a deep
breath, ready to urge Incendio down another steep slope one more time …

Then I saw them.

A single line of horsemen trooped silently out from under the shield of purple-yellow cacti and up the far slope. They were keeping carefully in line, to minimise their hoof prints.

Just as we had.

The horsemen wore long cloth breech clouts, thick buckskin leggings and high moccasin boots to protect them from the cacti. Their black hair hung to their shoulders, tied back at the brow with wide cloth headbands. Their black eyes gleamed out of visages covered in war paint.

It was a war party. They were Apache.

And they were so close I could count the owl feathers in their leader's war cap.

They were armed with lethal-looking bows with quivers full of arrows slung over their lean and muscular shoulders.

A memory from Santa Fe clouded my vision … the bald, French undertaker and his dead and dying patients. The three broken arrows pointing out of the middle-aged man's blood-soaked back. The boy with a deadly black arrowhead sticking out of his pus-filled stomach. The stench …

I shivered.

The Apache leader rode up to the top of the next slope and scanned three hundred and sixty degrees. He flicked over our pinyon trees, went on … then came back for a closer look.

I checked down and around; we were covered. What was he staring at?

We couldn't retreat into that spine-filled tunnel. If they came at us, I'd have to stand and fight. But there
were too many of them at close quarters … and this was their back yard. They were experts at fighting in this terrain.

I pulled my modified rifle down off my back and laid it over my saddle, ready. I swear I could hear my heart pound with terror. I didn't want to kill — but I would if it meant my survival.

The leader waved one of his warriors forwards and swung round to consider the canyon walls ahead. He pointed at Big Sun Canyon and then to the right, at a mound of red boulders that had a tree growing out the top. They spoke, then the warrior went back to take his place in line. At the leader's signal, the war party moved off in the direction of the red boulders.

I exhaled.

The Apache rode over the rough surface of The Badlands with no more sound than a soft breeze.

If I'd gone blindly down into that arroyo, I'd have been dead for the past thirty minutes.

 

I watched the Apache war party move off to the southwest, then made my move. There could be more of them around, there probably were … Staying put would get me just as dead as anything else …

We made it halfway across the flat plain that stretched out to Coyote's Fangs. There was still a mile to go before they found us.

It was the same band. Six Apache warriors charged us from the rear, while the rest hunted us from the sides in a pincer movement. They must've crossed back over our trail and read the girls' shod hoof prints like a wanted poster.

I shoved my binoculars back in my shirt pocket and we took off.

Incendio, now that the weird forests of purple-yellow cacti were behind us, had regained her courage. She neighed orders to her sisters and a contemptuous challenge to our pursuers. She launched herself into top gear and stretched out her long black legs, eating the ground like a champion thoroughbred.

Like the soldiers they were, Azucar and Duquesa kept between me and our pursuers, ready to block their arrows. I let them because the Apache war party — though they'd kill me in a heartbeat — would do everything they could to catch my beautiful girls alive.

But before the war party could do anything about it, we'd outpaced them.

The Galindo mares, exhausted as they were, were completely out of the Apache ponies' league. Their forebears had crossed the Sahara, triumphed in battle and won the fastest races in the world — they were dynamite on four legs.

Then I noticed that even though we were out of range and accelerating, the war party still didn't give up. They just kept on coming, full bore. Once the Apache band realised where we were headed, they fired a few arrows to either side of us, as though to keep us on a straight course.

They seemed to be herding us along …

As we raced through Coyote's Fangs, the warriors whooped and howled with glee. Their leader shouted that he wished me a long and horrible death in Coyote's trap.

I didn't care. I'd rather deal with haunted canyons than have to kill to survive.

Well, that was what I thought until I saw what was on the other side of the red pillars …

Then I stopped thinking altogether.

Big Sun Canyon was a giant's sculpture garden, carved out of a deep pinky-red rock that stretched as far as the eye could see. Now I could understand why such wild legends had been woven around this place.

It was so beautiful it was surreal.

The high canyon walls enfolded a geological treasure trove of towering monuments sculpted by wind and rain into a bizarre wealth of shapes and forms.

Majestic towers that watched over all, noble totem poles displaying the profiles of warriors, lofty spires that threatened to pierce the diamond-blue sky, great archways waiting for the gods' triumphal return, swirling fans of delicate patterns and textures, immense sea shells left behind on an ancient ocean's shore … and all in the same glowing, iridescent pinky-red rock.

The whole canyon, from top to bottom, from dirt to monument, was the same rich, gorgeous colour. After the ugly blackish-grey of the treacherous Badlands, this place was so exquisitely beautiful it felt
like a different planet. How could nature's random efforts create such heartbreaking glory?

I took in a deep breath. My fear retreated, replaced by exhaustion. For the first time since I'd left the safety of the Santa Avia Mountains — and despite the threat the Apache warrior had yelled at my back — I felt …

Was that feeling — safety?

I shook my tired head. This was no time to let my guard down.

But as I gazed around, I couldn't help but feel good … at peace. There was something about this mighty canyon, which so richly displayed the power of nature, that spoke to the deepest core of my soul.

I don't believe in gods and demons … or supernatural oogie boogie of any kind, and I don't have a creed that I follow. But if such exquisite beauty could form solely in accordance with the laws of nature, then did that mean there was some kind of order, some kind of web that truly united us all?

Whatever the answer was … this was surely sacred land.

 

Then it struck me: this place was huge. And that was only what I could see from just inside Coyote's Fangs. How far back did Big Sun Canyon go?

And there were mesas — steep-sided, table-topped hills and mountains — in every direction. Big, wide ones it'd take hours to walk across; long, narrow ones that I could cross in a bound and were really just giant knife blades pointed at the sky …

But which one was Spruce Tree Mesa?

I could spend days searching this vast canyon.

And for what? I still had no idea how to identify Spruce Tree Mesa. All the Abbess had said was that I'd recognise it when I saw it.

What did that mean?

And she'd never even been in Big Sun Canyon.

There was only one thing to do. I was here to find Hector Kershaw and Ernesto, not the mesa itself. So after resting and watering the girls, I mounted Duquesa and started searching for their trail.

We wended our way into the heart of the giant sculpture garden, but without finding a single horse track. There was no sign to show that Hector and Ernesto — or indeed anyone else — had been in Big Sun Canyon at all. I could only hope that there was another entrance into the great canyon, one facing south to Santa Fe, and that they'd entered that way.

We climbed up onto a hill, crowned by five tall pinky-red spires. I halted in the cool shadow of the nearest spire, looking around for even the slightest hint of which of the five possible routes to take off the hill. I couldn't find Hector's tracks, so I had to settle for finding Spruce Tree Mesa. But Big Sun Canyon stretched out as far as the eye could see in all directions and, though it was full of stunning geological features, I could see nothing that had ‘Spruce Tree Mesa' printed in big letters on the side.

I had absolutely no idea which way to go …

I sighed. I was exhausted. I hadn't slept at all since we left the Abbess, but kept guard while Incendio, Azucar and Duquesa rested. I surveyed them. On my right, Incendio returned my questioning gaze with an encouraging gleam in her tired black eyes, as if to say, ‘Well, we made it!' Azucar had her eyelids shut, trying to grab some sleep while she could.

I patted Duquesa and dismounted. It was time for another rest and a water stop anyway. Maybe after that I'd be able to work out which way to go.

I went over each mare with a fine-tooth comb, checking their legs and hooves. Then I unsaddled them so I could check for friction wounds from the saddles and bridles. All three were fine, so I wiped them down and left them loose to forage for food in the shade of the spire. They'd worked hard the past few days and I had to make sure they didn't get saddle sores or come up lame.

I pulled out the metal pan I used to cook my food and water the girls. Too tired to stand, I plunked it down on a flat, pinky-red rock, and squatted over it with my canteen. I took a swig to wash the dust away, then poured one ration of water into the deep pan. ‘Come on, girls, it's time for your water.'

They wandered over, Incendio claiming the first ration, and I leant back against a smooth-sided rock to give them room.

When they were all watered, I gave them each a small handful of grain, just enough to give them some energy, but not enough to slow them down. Who knows what we may meet next?

I sat down in front of my chosen backrest and leant back to gaze up at the sky, my tired body shaping to the rock like overcooked spaghetti.

The five majestic stone spires framed the brilliant blue sky while wispy white clouds played ‘catch me if you can' with each other …

Not that long ago, I'd been groping my way around the electricity-deprived Rewind offices and dashing between buildings to avoid the pouring rain. I licked my dry lips. If we didn't find Hector soon, I'd have to hightail it straight to the Rio Hama to fill my canteens.

Where the hell are you, Hector?

My eyes slid shut and I slipped into that twilight zone between waking and sleep, where reality
dissolves into a swamp of half-formed thoughts and distorted memories.

I saw the Abbess standing in the cave beneath her church, the pistol at her side ready to shoot me …

Then I was looking down into her strange pool. The sun was melting … a drop of golden liquid falling onto the face of the Earth …

I was slipping deeper and deeper into a boneless slumber …

Ouch! Something bit my rear!

I sat up, almost snapping my neck as I bent around, trying to find the jaws that'd latched onto my skin. I frowned down at the culprit. It was an ant. A huge red one. I flicked it off me and rubbed the bite, cursing.

Incendio wandered over to give a horse laugh at my plight.

‘Yeah, girl, thanks!' I snarled up at her. As if my rear wasn't sore enough as it was!

Incendio nuzzled my shoulder, trying to hide her dancing black eyes.

Then I squinted down at the ground. I was surrounded by a throng of big red ants, impossible to miss. I leapt to my feet. They hadn't been here when I sat down. Then I saw what'd attracted them — the bag of grain at my side, the one I'd used to feed the mares. I grabbed it up, carefully flicking the clinging red shoplifters off as I did.

I gaped at the contents; they'd managed to make off with over half my supply! There was a line of big red ants, leading away from where the bag had sat, each carrying a single grain. I crouched over them, cursing. The line stretched out and across the top of the hill …

I followed it. Incendio, still chortling, trotted at my heels. I was both outraged and mesmerised by the
well-organised heist. The line of red ants marched up to the foot of the southernmost spire and then filed up the natural spiral staircase that led to the top.

Incendio nudged my shoulder, as though to say, ‘Aren't you going to get my dinner back?'

Curiosity made me start climbing. It took me a while to reach the very top. Somewhere along the way the line of ants disappeared.

But by then I was caught by the view that was unfolding before me …

 

Big Sun Canyon was a rough circle. I checked my pocket compass. To the north lay Coyote's Fangs. Below me, the hill of five spires sat right in the middle of the canyon. I scanned the view to the north. Had I unwittingly passed Spruce Tree Mesa? But I couldn't spot anything that seemed to yell, ‘I'm different!'

I scanned my way around the western and eastern compass points … still nothing leapt out at me. But then, high as I was, I couldn't see every formation … just get a glance at a part of most of the main ones. What if I'd missed the right sign because it faced away from my route?

I crushed that thought.

I turned south, my last chance, and slowly perused every formation within eyesight. Again nothing …

I squinted straight ahead … there was a giant arch. Something black gleamed through from the other side. It wasn't much to go on — but the whole canyon, from top to bottom, from dirt to monument, was the same glowing colour. Pinky-red.

I frowned. Could that black just be a shadow?

What else was there to head for?

I climbed back down, resaddled the girls and headed due south — for the arch.

We climbed down from Five Spires Hill and into a long gully that led up to the great arch. It looked like it should've had a triumphal parade passing through. We mounted the slope at the end and came to an abrupt halt.

Spruce Tree Mesa was straight ahead. It was framed by the great stone arch …

It looked like a giant's unblinking eye.

And it was watching me.