Return to Massacre Mesa - Edge Series 5 (36 page)

‘You are right, Edge. I have talked much and said little that has any meaning for you – when there is much that I can say that is of great interest. And I will begin now to tell you first of the man who called himself Slade. Too, about the men who stole the money that was meant to be given to my people by the government in Washington.’

She looked at Edge for a reaction, registered his curt nod to continue and looked away as she went on in the same monotone as before: ‘You know already how Hiram J. Ricketts and I found the bodies of the officers along with the sand filled boxes and the dying lieutenant who we brought back to the cave below. But it was at this point that I stopped telling what truly happened all those years ago.’

‘And tried the patience of a lot of people by doing that, lady.’

She shrugged and shook her head sadly. ‘It was getting late and everyone was weary. So I considered it best to wait until tomorrow?’

He prompted caustically: ‘But since you can’t sleep and I’ve volunteered to stay awake . . ?’

‘Yes, all right,’ she allowed placidly. ‘After the three men responsible for the death of my man had ridden off, I did not immediately bury Hiram’s body and go to Fort Chance. I went after them.’ She made a gesture to indicate that the killers had headed west: and maybe cut into the mountains or perhaps had skirted the fringe of the high ground and the desert – her casual signal was imprecise. ‘Followed them and 249

watched what happened when they reached the place where it was plain they always knew they were going.’ Again she looked at Edge for a response and watched him strike a match that he touched to the freshly made cigarette. And in the flame she saw on his gaunt with weariness face that normally showed little of what he was thinking there was an expression that mixed surprise with expectation.

‘Just carry on telling me all that happened, Rose,’ he invited and shook the fire out of the match.

Now there was a less taut tone in her voice and a calmer expression on her narrow featured face. ‘They went to
El Mission de Madonna de Sierras
–that is a half day’s ride from here.’ She motioned westward again. ‘And it was there that they hid the money they had stolen from Fort Chance, Edge.’

‘There’s a church way out here in the mountains?’ His tone suggested surprise rather than incredulity.

‘It was built many, many years ago. By the Spaniards who first came to this part of the country from the south. Long before other White Eyes arrived from the east. These were priests who wanted to change the heathen ways of the Indians by teaching them the word of the Good Book.’

‘The church was a ruin by the time you trailed Ricketts’ killers there, Rose?’

She nodded. ‘It was just a roofless adobe, Edge. Larger than most houses. But the way in which it was higher at one end than at the other – where the bell tower had once been, you understand – made it plain to me that it was the remains of the mission I knew had once been in that part of the mountains.’ She scowled. ‘Before some Indians much like the band of hotheads who followed Mountain Lion I suppose, attacked it. They killed the priests and those Indians who were being taught from the Good Book that day. Then they filled the mission with brushwood to cover the dead and set fire to it.’ She shuddered and went on: ‘When word of the slaughter and burning spread no more priests came to do good works among the Comanche. And talk of evil spirits dwelling at the mission kept the Indians away.’

250

The normally level headed squaw shuddered again and looked to left and right into the moon silvered night: clearly unsettled by her own retelling of an ancient legend concerning forces she did not understand. ‘It was a tale of evil I had been told as a very young child – all Comanche in this part of the country knew it. And I believe that nobody ever went anywhere near that mission again until the killers of Hiram Ricketts got there. With me following them.’

‘And just what did you see there, lady?’ Edge asked as he stubbed out his cigarette.

‘I could not stay close behind the men and remain unseen while we were moving. And by the time I was close enough to see and hear all that they did and said they had almost finished hiding what they had stolen. Then there were gunshots – fired by two soldiers who had seemed to appear from nowhere. Like the evil spirits that are said to dwell at the mission?’

Edge ignored her plea for understanding of her implied belief in ghosts and she swallowed hard before she went on: ‘Then the killers of Hiram Ricketts drew their guns and there was much shooting in a very short time. I remained in hiding and only went closer after it was over and I heard talking.’

‘How many of them survived the gun battle, Rose?’

‘Just the two soldiers: and one of these had a bad wound here.’ She moved an index finger across the centre of her forehead. ‘He was afraid he would die but the other man said it was only a slight injury and he should not worry: there was a lot of blood that was all.’

‘Then what?’ Edge asked, convinced by her attitude that the squaw was getting to the point of her tale. ‘What happened about the – ‘

‘The most unbelievable thing, Edge! Those two soldiers had not killed the other three men so they could steal the money! They knew nothing of it! They had deserted from Fort Chance for no other reason than to be free of the army. So they had killed the men at the mission only to steal the horses, the food, the water and the clothing of 251

their victims! And so they took what they wanted and rode away. In total ignorance of what was hidden just feet from where they had been standing!’

‘And the feller who got shot in the head was Zane Slade?’ Edge murmured reflectively as he pondered briefly on the cruel trick that fate had played on the pair of army deserters in a place already renown in legend for cruelty and evil. The irony of the desperate men unknowingly accused of stealing the money and having it all but handed to them as a gift then riding off oblivious of what they had missed. Rose explained: ‘That day they called each other Farmer and Crabbe. But I suppose because they had deserted from the army and were wanted men that they later changed their names to Nagal and Slade?’

‘For sure they did,’ he replied absently.

‘And Farmer – who called himself Clyde Nagal – was the man who was imprisoned in Nebraska? And it was him who was coming to Lakewood with the man you knew as Andrew Devlin when the stage was held up. And he was killed and Devlin was badly wounded. He’d heard about the stolen money and how he and his friend were accused of stealing it?’

‘It figures, lady,’ Edge agreed reflectively. ‘And Crabbe, who was calling himself Zane Slade now, found out the same thing. Maybe Dingle’s right: it could be that getting shot in the head blotted out the memory of everything that happened at the mission. And after he heard about the stolen money and how he and Farmer were accused of stealing it, he couldn’t recall anything else about what happened all that time ago.’

‘Yes, I think that could very well be so, Edge.’

‘You recognised Slade as Crabbe right away, lady? Because of the scar on his head where the bullet creased him?’

‘Yes, from the first moment I saw him I knew he was one of those who had killed the men who killed my man. And every time I looked at him I was reminded of what happened to Hiram all those years ago.’

252

Edge expelled a stream of tobacco smoke as he said: ‘Yeah, I can see how that would be. But on that day the three men who stole the money and hid it were dead. And the two who killed them never knew where it was hid. Only you knew and you just walked away from all those dollars and never told anyone the truth until tonight. That’s a little hard to come to terms with, lady.’

‘Everything to do with that mission is cursed, Edge,’ the squaw said in an insistent monotone as she peered out into the night-shrouded desert. ‘I wanted then I still want today nothing to do with anything that comes out of the place where so much violent death took place.’

Edge looked beyond where Rose sat and asked in a conversational tone: ‘I guess you don’t feel that way, feller?’

The squaw caught her breath and wrenched her head around to peer in the same direction as Edge. And a man revealed his presence within earshot as he stepped away from the top of the natural stairway where Edge knew somebody had been silently waiting and listening for several minutes. It was Sam Tree, who had come up to the ledge to take over sentry duty without need to be awakened. The man wearing the deputy’s badge glinting in the moonlight shrugged and explained:

‘The kind of people I’m riding with and the high stakes involved, I’m willing to stoop to any sneaky level to protect my interests, mister.’

Edge came up off his haunches and allowed: ‘I can go along with that line of thinking, feller: but how about your views on the money? It seems like we’re going to find it tomorrow and like you heard, Rose here wants no part of it.’

‘It is not mine!’ the squaw explained vehemently. ‘I have just said I did not want it all then – and I do not want any of it now!’

Tree asked scornfully: ‘So why the hell did you come all the way out here and go through all the trouble you have?’

There was an earnest plea to be believed in Rose’s tone and expression when she answered: ‘Back at the start I wanted only to help Miss Lucy recover the remains of her 253

dead lieutenant. But then, after seeing how men were still dying because of it, I thought to try to end the curse of that money! I thought that perhaps if it is returned to its rightful owners – which in truth are my people but which I fear will be the White Eyes government in Washington – then what would – ‘

Edge interrupted her to ask of Tree: ‘I got the same question as before, deputy: how about you and the money?’

Tree shook his head. ‘I know what you’re thinking, mister. You figure that when I see that many silver dollars all in one place and consider the hassle I’ve been persuaded against my better judgement to go through to get to where it is, I won’t be able to resist wanting a share of it, right?’

‘It crossed my mind. Since I’ve got a similar concern about my own motives, feller.’

‘I prefer
deputy
to
feller
, mister!’ Tree growled. ‘And you just better do the lawful thing. I was sent out to bring Lucy Russell back to her pa safe and sound. Kind of an unofficial duty for a deputy sheriff: more a favour for an old friend. But the theft of government property is a full-blown felony and it’s my sworn duty to do all I can to square things on that score. And in doing that I’ll be backed by Brod Goodrich who’s also a deputy. Like me, maybe he’ll be a little doubtful when the time comes, but he’ll do his sworn duty.’

Edge nodded and handed the watch to Tree as he moved to the head of the way down then paused to point out: ‘That just leaves Dingle. But I reckon between the three of us upholders of the law that we ought to be able to persuade him to see things from the legal point of view?’

‘I figure we can make him do that, but I’m not so sure about the Indians.’ Tree jerked a thumb in two directions. ‘The squaw here and the kid down there: when the time comes they may figure they could do themselves a whole lot of good with their own people by bringing in a pile of dollars they reckon belong to them anyway? Buy themselves out of trouble in the event word has gotten round that they maybe had a hand in helping the army to slaughter Mountain Lion and his bunch?’

254

Rose spoke a terse phrase in Comanche as she glowered at Tree. Edge said: ‘Well I believe everything Rose has said here tonight, deputy. And I reckon I’ll be trusting her and Crooked Eye more than I will you and your buddy Goodrich when the dollars are found.’

‘Just so long as we all know where we stand,’ Tree allowed without rancour,

‘Which will mean everybody will get what they expect and no nasty surprises, right?’

‘No sweat.’ Edge started down the side of the mesa, closely trailed by the tightlipped squaw. As he neared the mouth of the cave he saw firelight and heard subdued sounds coming from inside and saw only three blanket-draped forms when there should have been five: including the corpse of Slade. Rose registered his intrigued expression and explained:

‘When the man had died I showed Miss Lucy where Hiram Ricketts buried the body of her lieutenant: far inside the cave away from the weather and from where roaming animals could unearth it. She said that she wished to be left alone there and took with her the shovel she requested before the soldiers left this morning. She wanted to reclaim what is left of Lieutenant Montgomery by her own efforts. Then the squaw shrugged and gestured to where Slade’s body had rested. ‘I said the dead man should be buried in the grave that would now be empty – for why make extra work by digging another one? And Miss Lucy agreed.’

Dingle and Goodrich continued to sleep as deeply as Crooked Eye, if not so quietly. But their heavy breathing and occasional snorts and groans were little more obtrusive to Edge as he bedded down than the more distant noises made by Lucy Russell as she worked carefully by the flickering light of a small fire to recover the remains of Lieutenant Glenn Montgomery. Which would be no more than dry and brittle discoloured bones after so many years buried in the arid soil inside a Southwest cave. He awoke to the appetising smells of fresh coffee and frying pork and feigned sleep for a few more moments as he relished these aromas and how well rested he felt. 255

Which was surprising because of the doubts that should have concerned him about how some of the people who shared the camp would behave during the day ahead. Then he snapped open his eyes and blinked against the brightness of the desert morning sky. And saw he had been right, for whatever reason, to enjoy a period of untroubled rest. For almost everything seemed to be exactly as it should be. Rose Bigheart was cooking breakfast. Sam Tree, John Dingle and Broderick Goodrich were continuing to sleep as peacefully as Edge had. And Crooked Eye was attending to the horses. Just Lucy Russell was missing and there were no longer any digging sounds from within the cave. Seemingly unaware that Edge was awake the squaw said something in Comanche and for a change when she spoke her native language the words were not harsh toned. Then as he sat up he realised the young buck was too far away to hear her and respond, which meant Rose was talking to him. Smiling in a way that showed she felt better than at any time since he first saw her in the doorway of her squalid Farm Trail adobe outside of Lakewood. The smile suddenly became a gentle laugh and she made a deprecating gesture with her free hand.