Outlaw Pass (9781101544785) (22 page)

 

Cruz was awake at first light and had the others up shortly after. Anxious to get in the saddle as soon as possible, he had to wait, however, for breakfast of coffee and bacon at the insistence of the others. Their enthusiasm for the chase was evident, but not on empty stomachs. While Rawhide fried the bacon, the other four saddled the horses and broke camp. Buster, as usual, took over the chore for Rawhide. By the time the sun was in evidence over the hills, they were on their way upriver, Cruz, Red Blanket, and Seeger on one side and Rawhide and Buster on the other.

As Red Blanket had predicted, they came to the place where Adam and his party had crossed the Ruby approximately three miles from the place they had camped. “That sure looks like a helluva lot of tracks for four riders,” Cruz remarked, “even countin' the mules.”

“I expect they musta picked up the horses that posse was ridin',” Red Blanket said.

Since both halves of the search party came upon the tracks at the same curve in the river on opposite sides of the water, it told them that there had been no effort to disguise their trail by wading up- or downriver. Leaving the water, the tracks continued on a straight course to the east. “Sure looks like they were headin' right for the Madison,” Seeger commented. “How come we never found no sign of them crossin' the Madison?”

“I reckon they managed to cross it somewhere we didn't look,” Cruz replied, “or maybe they didn't cross it. Plain as this trail is, we oughta find out one way or the other.” Late in the afternoon the question was answered, for the tracks told them that the party they followed had stopped by a small stream for a short while, then turned north into the mountains.

“Now, why in hell would they do that?” Rawhide gave voice to the question in all their minds, except possibly Buster's. “There ain't nothin' in that direction but high mountains and narrow canyons.”

Cruz thought about it for a few moments before speculating, “This might be the luckiest thing that could happen for us. They mighta been thinkin' there was another posse up ahead, waitin' to catch 'em at the river. Maybe they decided to find 'em a place to hole up for a while till the heat blows over, and if they did, it just might give us a chance to catch up with 'em.”

They set out in the direction dictated by the obvious trail, straight for the mountains, and more directly toward a narrow canyon with a stream gushing forth. The trail that had been so easy to follow before became more difficult in the confines of the canyon and the diminishing light. Finally, when the sun slid behind the western peaks, and the canyon was plunged into darkness, as if someone had suddenly blown out a lamp, they were forced to stop for the night.

Morning found them waiting impatiently for the sun to send some rays into the deep canyon while Red Blanket, with help from a torch, inched his way a few yards ahead, trying to find at least a hoofprint or two. Finally, as the light filtered down the steep sides of the mountains on either side of them, Red Blanket could see again. “Come,” he beckoned to the others, and tossed his torch into the stream. The searchers started out once again, this time following behind Red Blanket as he sought tracks now more difficult to find. “They're bein' a lot more careful 'bout tryin' to hide their trail,” he commented. A short time later, he stopped again when he found several tracks headed in the opposite direction. “Just one horse,” he told the others. “Hard to say how old these tracks are, but it was in the last day or two.” The searchers continued to advance slowly up the stream until Red Blanket held up his hand to halt them at a juncture where a smaller stream emptied into the one they had been following. “Wait a minute till I make sure,” he said, “but I think they mighta headed up this little stream.” After a few minutes, when he could find no tracks beyond, he was sure they had turned to follow the smaller stream.

Rawhide stood peering up the steep ravine with its narrow sides lined with pine trees. “Boys,” he announced, “this is where we best start watchin' ourselves.”

“Rawhide's right,” Cruz said. “We'd better leave the horses and take it real slow from here on up. There's too many places for a bushwhacker to sit just waitin'. Go ahead and lead out, Red Blanket.”

Red Blanket hesitated. “My job's trackin', and I done that. I found 'em. Somebody else can go up first to draw fire.”

“Shit fire,” Cruz said. “I thought you Crow Injuns was supposed to be brave.”

“Brave, yeah,” Red Blanket replied. “Stupid, no.”

“Hell,” Rawhide scoffed, “Buster ain't scared to go up that ravine, are you, Buster? Go on up there and we'll be right behind you. You can be the leader.”

The suggestion pleased the simpleminded manchild. “I'll be the leader, Rawhide. I'll lead us up there to get 'em.” He started up the ravine immediately.

“Sure you will,” Rawhide said. “I knew we could count on you.” He turned to Cruz and remarked, “They're probably long gone by now, anyway.”

“Maybe, but there don't seem to be many ways to get up and down this gulch, and there ain't no tracks comin' down but that one set Red Blanket saw. I'm bettin' they're still up there somewhere.” In a single file, they started climbing after the oversized brute, each man with his eyes peeled and darting from side to side of the foreboding gulch. Unnoticed by any of the five, a solitary figure rose from a laurel thicket, high up the stream, and faded into the leafy background.

 

Lacey dropped the pan she was filling in the stream when she looked up to see the Indian spring from the edge of the pines. She screamed and fled toward the shelter. Bonnie rushed out of the shelter but halted abruptly when she discovered the Bannock warrior running toward her, his bow in hand, yelling something she could not understand. Like Lacey, she took flight, but unlike the frightened girl, she ran to fetch her carbine. Recognizing his name being called, Adam appeared in time to keep Bonnie from shooting Black Otter. “Stop!” he ordered. “He's callin' me!”

“Adam Bain!” Black Otter repeated, mispronouncing the last name. “White men come! You come quick!”

In need of no explanation beyond that, Adam reacted immediately. Snatching his rifle up, he cocked it and ran to where Black Otter beckoned. “Where?” he asked. Black Otter motioned toward the stream and Adam understood at once. He wasted no time moving to a large boulder beside the stream at the edge of the waterfall, and looked below to the five men the Indian pointed out. They were still more than a hundred and fifty yards below him, making their way cautiously up the steep streambed. There was not much time to think, but fortunately he had given the possibility of this occurrence some thought before, so he did not hesitate to act. There was no quick exit from his camp. The only way out was up and around the mountain. The first and foremost problem was the time it would take to saddle the horses and load the packs on Finn's mules.

In those initial rapidly ticking seconds, he took a hard look at the five men laboring to lead their horses carefully up the steep slope. There was no doubt in his mind who they were and what their intent was. They couldn't be anyone but more of Plummer's men. He wasn't going to wait to ask them. “Bad men?” Black Otter asked.

“Yeah, bad men. Thank you, my friend, for warning us.”

“I help you fight,” Black Otter said, holding his bow up before him.

Adam hesitated for a moment, thinking that Black Otter had a wife waiting for him somewhere on the other side of the mountain, but the precarious situation he found himself in made it difficult to turn down any offered help. “Again I thank you,” he said. With no time to dally, Adam then called Bonnie to come to him. She was carrying her rifle with the cartridge belt slung over her shoulder, and she hurried to answer his call. “There's at least five men that I can count comin' up the stream. Looks like they're still trailin' us. In just about a minute, I'm gonna start throwin' some shots down this hill, and I think I can buy us some time. I need you and Lacey to saddle the horses and load the pack mules. Can you do that?”

“I've saddled a horse before,” she replied confidently, “and I guess Finn can tell me how to load the packs.”

“Good,” Adam said. “Go to it, then. Just saddle the horses we're ridin'. Leave the extra horses. Ain't no need for me to tell you we've got to get outta here.”

“You're right about that,” the spunky woman replied, and was off to do his bidding.

Adam turned his attention back to the execution party inching its way up the stream. He rested his rifle in a notch in the boulder, aimed at a spot where the stream took a sharp turn around a cluster of rocks, then waited for the huge man leading to reach it. He glanced over at the Bannock warrior and Black Otter nodded solemnly, notched an arrow, and waited for Adam to start the volley.

When the first shot rang out, Cruz dived for cover behind a log lying close beside the stream. He looked up to see Buster staggering, struggling to stay on his feet. He could see an arrow protruding from the big man's chest, but he figured there was a gunshot wound that he couldn't see.
Indians? Was it possible?
The trail they had followed from the Ruby led right up this stream. Had they run into an Indian camp? And how many were there? Behind him, he heard Rawhide yell for Buster to get down, but the mindless brute continued to stand on unsteady feet as two more shots rang out. Buster took two more steps up the stream before he finally dropped facedown, like a giant cottonwood, falling across the middle of the water. “Damn it!” Cruz yelled out. “What are you waitin' for?” He took aim on the boulder above him and sent a rapid-fire volley to cause Adam and Black Otter to duck behind the rock. Following his lead, Rawhide knelt in the water behind Buster's body, using it for protection, while Seeger and Red Blanket scurried over behind some rocks across from Cruz. Their concentrated fire forced Adam and Black Otter to seek better positions to shoot from.

For a while, all of the firing came from the four outlaws below, but as soon as any one of them made a move to advance farther up the stream, Adam cut loose with a rapid series of shots from his Henry and Black Otter loosed another arrow, effectively keeping the outlaws at bay. In between the short volleys, he took quick looks at the camp behind him. It was not encouraging, for it appeared that the women were having trouble loading the mules. When their efforts seemingly became fruitless, Bonnie broke away and ran to join him behind the boulder. “The horses are saddled,” she gasped breathlessly, “but me and Lacey can't lift the damn gold sacks and tie them on the packs. Finn's tryin' to help, but he's more in the way than helping.” When Adam looked perplexed, she suggested, “I can't lift the sacks, but I can sure as hell shoot this carbine. You go load the mules, and me and the Indian will keep the bastards pinned down.” She flashed Black Otter a confident grin, which he acknowledged with a solemn nod.

Adam felt no need to question the wisdom of her suggestion. He backed away from his position at the edge of the boulder so she could slide in and take his place. “Mind you keep your head down,” he cautioned her. “You're gettin' too damn handy to lose.” She smiled, pleased with his comment.

Adam quickly backed away from the boulder and ran to the shelter where Lacey, with a one-armed attempt to help from Finn, strained to lift a heavy sack of gold dust up high enough to lace it on the pack frame. Behind him he heard the sharp snap of Bonnie's carbine as she opened up on the threat below. He immediately grabbed the gold sack and hefted it up to be tied down, then going to the next in line until, in a few minutes, the mules were loaded. He then took a quick look in the shelter to make sure nothing they needed had been left behind. “All right,” he said, “you're ready to get outta here.”

“Where?” Finn asked, staring at the thick belt of pines above the camp. “Which way?”

It hit Adam at that moment that he had not really determined the best escape route, since there had been none obvious. His only plan, in the event escape became imperative, was to flee into the dense forest and look for a way around the mountain as best they could. “Wait,” he told Finn.

Hurrying back to the boulder where Bonnie was sending round after round down upon the outlaws huddled below, he grabbed her ankle and yanked it a couple of times before he was able to break her concentration on her target. “Slide on outta there,” he said. “You've got to lead Finn and Lacey outta here.” He turned to Black Otter then. “You know these mountains. Will you lead my friends away from here, somewhere they'll be safe?”

Black Otter nodded. “I take them to my camp.”

“Good. Thank you, my friend,” Adam replied. “I'll keep these boys right where they are till you're long gone.” Black Otter nodded again and started to back away. “Where is your camp?” Adam remembered then to ask.

Black Otter pointed to the north. “That mountain, go round, next mountain, go round. My camp by big stream near bottom.”

“Good,” Adam said. “I'll be seein' you.” He watched the Bannock warrior for a second before turning back to the four pinned down below him.

Approaching the two women and the wounded man, Black Otter addressed Finn, who was standing holding the reins of his horse, although still on unsteady feet. “Adam say you follow me,” Black Otter said. “I take you safe.”

Finn agreed without hesitation, eager to escape with his treasure, but Lacey was leery of leaving Adam behind. “What about Adam?” she asked. “We can't go without him.”

As had become the usual practice, Bonnie took control of the situation. “Adam knows what he's doing,” she said. “He'll hold them till we've got a good start. Then he'll come after us. What he wants us to do now is to get the hell outta here, so let's get moving.”