Devil's Canyon (9 page)

“It's time we had an understanding,” Durham said. “I agreed that you could use the wagon and the teams, but I don't recall promising to help defend you against hostile Utes or outlaws.”

“Suit yourself,” said Faro, “but as long as you're part of this outfit, you stand to be shot just as dead as any of us.”

“Then I don't choose to be part of this outfit,” Durham said. “Not unless I'm told where we're headed, and what's in it for me, once we get there.”

“You've been promised sufficient supplies to take you on to California,” said Collins, “and that's all you have any right to expect.”

“That's right,” Faro said, “and we reserve the right to withdraw
that
offer, if you're unwilling to help us defend the wagons against Indians and outlaws. You're
welcome to saddle your horse and ride on, but you get nothing.”

“Damn you,” said Durham bitterly. “Damn all of you.”

He said no more, but neither did he mount his horse and ride away.

“Now,” Faro said, “if you'll stay with the wagon, Collins, I'll trail those four
hombres
and see that they don't have any mischief planned somewhere ahead of us.”

“Very well,” said Collins.

The teamsters mounted their wagon boxes, Collins returning to Faro's wagon. Durham mounted his horse, his hate-filled eyes on Odessa McCutcheon, as she climbed to the box of what had been his wagon.

“I'm not finished with you,” Durham snarled.

Odessa laughed. “You got that turned around all wrong, gamblin' man. You was more than finished with Mamie and me when you left Amarillo like a scairt coyote. The truth is, we ain't finished with you. You should have rode out while you had the invite.”

Faro had no trouble trailing the four riders, and it soon became obvious why they did not attempt to hide their trail. When Faro judged he had ridden more than twenty miles, the trail continued. The outlaws were counting on any pursuit being limited because of the possibility of bushwhackers. If the pursuers got too far ahead of the wagons, they ran the risk of being ambushed by Indians or outlaws at a point too distant for their companions to join them. Just on the chance the outlaws might have doubled back, Faro rode ten miles north without finding any sign. He then returned to the place he had left the trail of the outlaws, and rode ten miles south. There were no telltale tracks, so he rode back to meet the oncoming wagons. Levi Collins saw him coming and reined up. It was time to rest the teams. All of them—including Durham—gathered around to hear Faro's report.

“I rode a good twenty miles without getting close to them,” Faro said, “and then to north and south, without finding any sign they'd doubled back.”

“What do you think it means?” Collins asked.

“They're not ready to bushwhack us,” said Faro,
“and by staying far enough ahead, they don't figure we'll force a fight.”

“They're figurin' that right,” Dallas said. “Best defense against an ambush is to ride the varmints down, before they're able to find cover and dig in.”

“Damn them,” said Shanghai, “they got us between a rock and a hard place. They'll be knowin' we can't afford to leave the wagons and all of us go after them, nor do we dare split our forces.”

“In that case, Faro,” Collins said, “since we're still in danger of Indian attack, I think your scouting ahead every day is a needless risk.”

“Maybe,” said Faro, “but we need to know that these riders are still far enough ahead of us to rule out an ambush. We can't be sure of that, unless I trail them. As for Indians, that's a risk I'll have to take.”

“I can do some of the scouting,” Collins said.

“That's generous of you,” said Faro, “but I can handle it.”

Tarno laughed. “Faro ain't much for blowin' his own horn. What he won't tell you is, for four years, he was a scout for John Mosby.”

“My God,” Collins said,
“The Gray Ghost
. Please do your own scouting, Mr. Duval.”

The wagons moved on, covering another fifteen miles before reining up for the night. Durham had kept his silence, mulling over what Faro Duval had said about the outlaws and their obvious intention of staying far ahead. Durham wondered if the outlaws had been near enough to have heard the shot, and if they had witnessed his fall from grace. He had to believe they had washed their hands of him, for now there was
no way he would be able to rendezvous with Slade. That meant when the outlaws decided an ambush was in order, Durham would be just another target in the sights of their rifles. Double-crossing Slade was no longer a possibility. Like it or not, he must cast his lot with these teamsters, if he was to survive. To that end, immediately after supper, he began mending his fences. Going to Faro Duval, he spoke in as friendly a manner as he could.

“Duval, I've been doin' some thinking, and I owe you and Mr. Collins an apology. The deal I made with you in Santa Fe was legitimate, and I was wrong, trying to back out of it. If we're attacked by Indians—or anyone else—I'll take part in the defense, and I'll do my best. I'll take over the wagon again, if you wish.”

“Far as I'm concerned,” said Faro, “your apology's accepted.”

“Mr. Duval speaks for me, as well,” Collins said.

“Well, there don't neither of you speak for me,” said Odessa McCutcheon. “I like this teamsterin', and I reckon I'll stay with the wagon.”

“Since it's your wagon,” Durham said, “I can't argue with that.”

“Praise be to God,” said Mamie, “he's admitted it.”

Durham's apparent repentant attitude did much to lighten the mood of the camp, but Mamie and Odessa McCutcheon still viewed the gambler with distrust. It was a fair night, with moon and stars, and during the first watch, Mamie McCutcheon took the opportunity to speak to Shanghai, Tarno, and Dallas.

“Durham's got a lyin' tongue. Don't believe nothin' the little sidewinder says, and if Duval or Collins will
listen to you, warn them. He knows them outlaws was trailin' you for some reason, and he's makin' peace so's he can hang around and find out why.”

“You don't have to convince me,” Dallas said. “I still think he's the varmint that crept up and slugged Collins.”

“I think so, too,” said Shanghai, “but there's no proof.”

“There might have been,” Tarno said. “We should have searched the varmint.”

“Without givin' away any secrets,” said Mamie, “could he have taken something from Collins that might tell him where these wagons is goin', and why?”

“My God, yes,” Dallas said, recalling the little sack of gold ore. “He could have taken part of something that wouldn't have been missed.”

“He done it, then,” said Mamie.

“I believe you're right,” Shanghai said. “I wish you'd talk to Faro.”

“Odessa will do that,” said Mamie. “The varmint's slick as calf slobber, and we purely don't believe for a minute he's reformed. He's just waitin' for a chance to turn somethin' to his advantage, and he'll back-shoot any one or all of us, if he has to.”

“Faro can fool you,” Tarno said, “and I think Collins is deeper than he looks. I won't be surprised if they're thinkin' like you and Odessa. Whatever Durham has in mind, I can promise you, he won't get the jump on all of us.”

Mamie laughed softly. “I didn't think so. You
hombres
has been over the mountain and seen the bear. The kind of men we knowed in Texas before the war.”

The night wore on. Shanghai, Tarno, and Dallas felt some better for having talked to Mamie McCutcheon. Odessa seemed even more forceful, and they had little doubt that the outspoken woman would be equally convincing to Faro Duval and Levi Collins.

The Sevier River, southwestern Utah.
August 6, 1870
.

“My God,” Isaac Puckett groaned, “don't them Utes ever let up? If we had dynamite, and Levi was here, we still couldn't work the claim.”

“That's been botherin' me some,” said Felix Blackburn, feeding more shells into his Winchester. “Levi's been gone near three weeks, and we ain't accomplished a damn thing.”

“I ain't been much help,” Josh Snyder said, “layin' here with a stiff shoulder and sore arm. I can't even comb my hair left-handed.”

“I wouldn't complain too much,” said Blackburn. “You could have took that Ute arrow in your belly, or through a lung. Besides, it might have been Isaac or me, instead of you.”

“Yeah,” Puckett said, “and we'd best all lay low, because we got no more whiskey for fightin' infection. At least, not until Levi brings us supplies from Santa Fe.”

“I got all the confidence in the world in Levi,” said Snyder, “but we got to face the possibility that he never got to Santa Fe, that these damn Utes got to him first.”

“Well, hell,” Blackburn said, irritated, “why don't we just surrender to these Utes and let 'em have their
way with us? If Levi don't bring us some ammunition, we'll soon end up throwin' rocks.”

“Don't be talkin' agin Levi,” said Puckett. “I reckon he'd of backed off and let either of you go, instead of him, if you'd wanted to. If you aim to lay here and sweat over what might go wrong, chew on this for a while. I'd bet my share of the claim that Levi made it to Santa Fe. What concerns me is that he may not find a teamster in all of Santa Fe with the sand to risk comin' into these mountains.”

“We give him the authority to swap a quarter of the strike, in return for wagons and mules, if he has to,” Snyder said.

“True,” said Puckett, “but there must be some limit as to how far a man will go for gold, or the promise of it.”

Blackburn laughed. “Damn right. Was I in Santa Fe, knowin' what I've learned about these Utes, I'd think long and hard about takin' teams and a wagon into this godforsaken country. For a quarter claim, a half claim, or a full claim. All the gold in the world ain't worth havin' an arrow drove through your brisket.”

Blackburn had raised up just a little, so that the crown of his hat was visible above a boulder behind which he had taken cover. Suddenly an arrow whipped the hat from his head, and he fired.

“Get him?” Puckett inquired.

“No, damn it,” said Blackburn. “I should have saved the ammunition.”

“I think that's their game,” Snyder said. “They know they're no match for our rifles, but they also got to suspect there's a limit to our shells. I think the varmints
tempt us to shoot, even when we ain't got a chance of hittin' one of 'em.”

“I wish you hadn't brought that up,” said Puckett. “There's a little more than two hundred rounds for each of us, and we'll be out of ammunition for our Winchesters. Two more weeks, and if Levi don't show, we're dead men.”

*   *   *

Durham continued to ride behind the last wagon, and when disaster struck, it was he who first became aware of it.

“Indians!” the gambler shouted.

Odessa was the first to rein up her team. Seizing her Winchester, she stepped off the wagon box and dropped to the ground, as arrows began to fly. The nearest cover was a windblown pine behind which Hal Durham had already crouched, firing his Winchester. In the seconds it took Odessa to fire twice, two Indian ponies galloped away, riderless. Each of the teamsters had bellied down, with or without cover, and their rapid fire took its toll. Their losses had been too great, and the attacking Indians wheeled their horses and rode back the way they had come.

“They're finished,” Faro shouted. “Anybody hurt?”

Nobody had been hit.

“Durham,” said Collins, “that was fast work.”

“Yes,” Faro said. “That's the way you stay alive in Indian country. Our Winchesters can cut them down before we're within range of their arrows, but only if we see them in time.”

Durham said nothing. Odessa McCutcheon eyed
him with as much distaste as ever. But Faro had something more to say.

“We've been concerned with Indians ahead of us. Now we know there's just as much danger from our back trail. Durham, I want you to continue riding behind the last wagon, and sing out when you see anything or anybody suspicious. Collins, if you'll take over the wagon for a while, I'll scout ahead.”

The teamsters mounted their wagon boxes and again took the trail. Faro rode ahead, and Durham loped his horse alongside Odessa McCutcheon's wagon. He grinned at her.

“You heard him,” Odessa snapped. “You're to ride behind the wagon, so's I don't have to look at you.”

“Pardon me if I don't take Duval seriously,” said Durham. “He's so concerned with possible Indian attacks from behind, why is he riding ahead? So the rest of us can get shot full of arrows?”

“Durham,” Odessa said pityingly, “you'd have to go to school and study some, before you could work your way up to ignorant. The big attack, when it comes, will be from up ahead somewhere. They struck from behind, hopin' to rattle us.”

“You know so damn much about Indians,” said Durham spitefully, “why don't you just keep one eye on the teams, and the other on the back trail?”

“Durham,” Odessa said, drawing her Colt, “if you don't drop back behind this wagon so's I don't have to hear you or look at you, I'll shoot you.”

For emphasis, she cocked the Colt, and Durham slowed his horse, allowing the wagon to move ahead.

*   *   *

“From that shootin',” Hindes said, “I'd say that bunch with the wagons has had 'em a taste of Ute. Ain't it funny, us ridin' miles ahead, and the Indians strikin' them from behind?”

“You'll likely be laughin' out of the other side of your mouth, 'fore we're done,” said Slade. “I've had some experience with Utes, and it just tickles hell out of them to do what you ain't expecting. Just when you think they're behind you, they'll start bloomin' like yucca on a rise ahead of you.”