Spanish Gold (8 page)

“We won't be able to take much with us.”

“I'll close the cabin. If we find nothing, I'll come back here. My friends will make sure that my things are left alone. If we find the gold, then I won't need any of it.”

Travis shrugged. He pulled out a chair and sat down. She turned and began to work at the counter near the sink and the hand pump for water.

“You know,” said Travis, “you could give me the information and the maps and I could go in search of the gold. You wouldn't have to leave here.”

“I thought I made myself clear,” she said, turning to face him. “There is nothing left for me here. I want to go. I have to go.”

“Fine,” said Travis. “It was just a thought.”

She cracked the eggs into the pan, scrambled them with a wooden spoon, and then walked to the fireplace. She set the pan on a metal grate and shook the handle. She studies the fire and the eggs and didn't say anything else to him.

Travis had planned to ride out as soon as breakfast was over. He'd then revised the plan, telling her they'd take only what they needed to get to El Paso and then would buy any additional supplies there. But Emma Crockett didn't have a horse, just her father's mule. Travis ended up riding into Hammetsville to buy a buckboard and two horses to pull it. He returned to find Crockett waiting for him. She had dragged the chest out of the door and was sitting on it.

“We're not going to be able to take this all the way to the cave,” said Travis, stopping close to the gate.

“Why not? The Spanish had their wagons close to it. It'll make it easier to get the gold out.”

Travis wrapped the reins around the brake after setting it and dropped to the ground. He took a deep breath and thought about telling her to wait behind again but knew it would do no good. She was a strong-willed woman who had nothing to wait for in the cabin.

She stood up and moved away from the trunk. Travis grabbed the leather handles and lifted. The trunk was lighter than he would have expected it to be. He glanced at her.

“Just a few things I want to keep safe,” she said. “The important things.”

“I thought your friends would watch the cabin.”

“They will.” She retreated to the cabin.

Travis loaded the chest and shoved it toward the front. He turned as she came out of the cabin closing the door behind her. She carried a double-barreled shotgun and a revolver in a holster.

“My father's,” she said.

Travis took the weapons from her and put them in the back, near the trunk. He then held out a hand to help her as she climbed up to the seat.

He walked around the back, made sure that his horse was ready, and then climbed aboard. He unfastened the reins. “If you're sure.”

“Let's go.”

Freeman was standing at the base of a tree, hidden in the shadows of it. He had an unobstructed view of everything that was going on below him. As Travis climbed to the seat far below him, Freeman turned to Crosby.

“They've got a wagon now.”

“Which means?” asked Crosby sitting up and scrubbing at his face.

“It means that he's going to be moving slow and that the woman is going with him. We hang back and they'll take us to the gold. It means that they won't be running away from us.”

Crosby stood up and moved to the tree. He stepped behind it as if afraid that Travis or Crockett would see him. He watched as the wagon moved down the road and into the small town.

“We follow them?”

“Hell,” said Freeman, “that's the road to El Paso. A straight shot in. I figure they're going to El Paso. We'll just ride on ahead and wait for them there.”

As the wagon disappeared among the low buildings, Crosby stepped out into the open. “What if they don't go straight to El Paso?”

“Then we backtrack and find where they left the road. It won't be that difficult to find them.”

Crosby stretched and then reached down, opening his fly. As he relieved himself, he asked, “What are you going to do with your share?”

Freeman grunted and then shrugged. “Buy a whorehouse and stock it with the best whiskey. After a month or two, I'll come out and think of something else.”

Crosby finished, shook his foot, and then buttoned up. “We going to eat breakfast first?”

For a moment Freeman stood looking down the ridge. At the far end of the town he saw the wagon reappear, heading for El Paso. It was obvious that Travis was in no hurry and that he didn't suspect anyone was behind him. He was taking it easy.

Freeman turned and moved down to where the fire was burning low. He'd let it die during the night so that no glow would be visible, even though on the reverse side of the slope, away from the cabin, there was no chance for Travis to see it.

“Breakfast first,” said Freeman. “Then we'll ride down, make sure they're still on the road, and then head on to El Paso.”

“And wait.”

“And wait,” agreed Freeman.

Travis met her in the lobby of the hotel. Her room was on the first floor and his on the second. The owner had seemed to be happier with them separated by that much space. Travis had wanted them on the same floor, in neighboring rooms, but she hadn't cared about the arrangement, so he let it stand. Now Crockett sat on one of the ornate couches with a high back and intricately carved feet. She glanced up, almost shyly, as Travis approached her.

“Now what?” she asked.

“I'm going to circulate and see what I can learn. Maybe hit a saloon or two and listen to the talk. See if there is anyone interested in Spanish gold or in Apaches. Especially in the Apaches.”

“And war news,” she said.

Travis shot her a glance. “Why the war news?”

“My brother is fighting in the war. He's with Robert E. Lee and the Army of Virginia.”

Travis had heard that he had faced the Army of Virginia at Gettysburg. He thought of all the young men in gray uniforms killed as they tried to take Cemetery Ridge from the Federal forces. He thought of the dead men and the wounded men and young blood staining the sun-dried fields.

“I'll see if I can buy a paper,” he said.

“Hurry back,” she said, smiling.

Travis turned and walked out the door. El Paso was a busy town in the middle of the day. The sidewalks were crowded with people—men, women, and children. The streets were filled with horses and wagons. Men stood in knots outside the marshal's office, the newspaper office, and the saloons, talking. A few women stood close to the general store or the dry goods company. Kids, as always, were running around chasing one another or a stray dog or anything else they could find.

Travis stood there for a moment and then stepped into the street. He walked across to the newspaper office where the latest war news was tacked to a board near the door. It was the story of a battle, drawn in the broad strokes of a headline writer that told him nothing but were designed only to attract interest. For the details, a newspaper was needed.

And there was news from the territories all around them. Word of an Indian attack in New Mexico. A stage station burned and three people killed “most horribly.”

But there was no talk of gold. No talk of the Spanish leaving their mark on Texas or the string of missions they built throughout the Southwest. Travis moved closer to the men and eavesdropped. They were more concerned with the way the war was going. The tides seemed to be turning with Lee's retreat from Pennsylvania. Some were afraid of an invasion from the North while others said that no Yankees would live to cross the border into Texas.

Travis turned and walked toward one of the saloons. Two men sat in chairs outside, watching the people walk by them. Another man sat at the edge of the boardwalk whittling. He was sharpening a stick, the shavings falling around his feet.

Travis walked into the saloon and saw half a dozen men standing at the bar drinking. There was a table pushed into a corner where another five men were playing cards. A single woman with light-colored hair stood behind one of the men, watching the game carefully.

He dropped a couple of coins on the bar and said, “Whiskey.”

The bartender put a shot glass in front of him, filled it, and then backed off. Travis downed the drink in one swallow and slammed the glass back to the bar. “Again.”

He took the drink and drifted toward the cardplayers. Travis knew that he had to be careful about where he stood. If any of the players thought that he could see their cards and was signaling to someone else, things could get ugly. He took a position near the stairs where he could listen to the bets and watch the players but where it would be nearly impossible for him to see any of the cards.

“You get me a beer, dear,” said one of the players, turning to the lone woman. He reached out and ran a hand up the outside of her leg.

As she moved away, two men entered the saloon. Travis glanced at them, then away, and suddenly back at them. He recognized them immediately.

“Damn,” he said. He drained the whiskey, looked around, and then set the glass on the stairs, pushing it over so that it was under the railing. Then, without looking, he ran up the steps, taking them two at a time.

He reached the top and walked down the hallway. One side was lined with doors but the other was open so that he looked down into the saloon. The two men had pushed their way to the bar and had both ordered whiskey. The bartender was standing close, a bottle in his hand.

They drank for a moment and then turned, looking around. Their eyes fell on the card game and they drifted toward it, watching as another hand was dealt.

“Hello,” said a voice.

Travis turned and saw a woman standing in an open door. She wore very little. Her hair was tangled. She grinned broadly and touched herself between the breasts, drawing his attention to them. Travis tried not to look.

“You interested in some fun?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then what you doing up here?”

Travis tried to look beyond her, into the interior of the room. He could see a bed that hadn't been made. There was a chest with a cloth on top of it and a china bowl with a pitcher inside it.

“Can I get out through there?”

“Now why would you want to do that?” she asked, grinning broadly.

“That's all I want right now,” said Travis. “Can I get out that way?”

“You don't mind dropping off the top of the porch, you can get out that way.”

Travis started to push past her but she grabbed his arm. “You go into my room it's going to cost you four bits.”

“I just want to get out.”

“Doesn't matter. You enter my room and it costs you four bits.” She held out a hand, still grinning. “It's four bits if you walk right through and four bits if you stop for a few minutes for a little fun.”

Travis looked into her eyes. Hard eyes. Unfeeling eyes. She didn't care what happened as long as she got her money. He dug in his pocket, found a coin and gave it to her. He held up another so that she could see it and said, “I was never here. You never saw me.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't seen anyone in the last hour.”

Travis nodded and dropped the coin into her palm. He closed the door behind him and moved to the window. As he reached it, he was aware of the odors in the room. It smelled like the inside of a lion's den after someone had sprayed it with perfume. It was dark in the room with the shades drawn. There were clothes on the floor. Shoes near the clothes. And there was a playbill hanging on the wall announcing a performance in the opera house in Denver.

Travis pushed the shades aside and opened the window. The air from outside seemed to be so fresh. He took a deep breath and then looked at the top of the porch. He climbed out, stood for a moment making sure that it wouldn't collapse under his weight. He moved to the edge, climbed over the waist-high railing, and dropped down to the back alley. There was rotting garbage piled in it. The odor of it, and from the outhouse off to the side, overpowered the stench from the stables close by.

Travis hesitated there, and then moved around the corner where he could look out onto the street. No one was paying him any attention. He slipped along the side of the building and then joined into the circulating crowds.

Looking back, he could see that no one had left the saloon. Another couple of men entered it, but no one came out. He didn't think the two men had spotted him. They had just wandered in for a drink. They hadn't looked up at him.

Travis hurried back to the hotel. He found Crockett sitting where he'd left her. She was staring out the window, not seeing much of anything out there. She was fanning herself with a piece of folded paper.

Approaching her, he said, “We've got a problem.”

“Yes?”

“I saw two men I recognized. I saw them in Sweetwater.”