Spanish Gold (10 page)

There was a second shot and then a third. An instant later there was a volley as everyone opened fire. The second Apache below in the rocks, was hit four times. He was shoved forward against a boulder, and then he fell, leaving a dark, wet smear on the rough stone.

A shot rang out from the other side of the canyon. Culhaine's horse screamed and reared back, kicking its front feet. It toppled to its side as Culhaine dived forward, out of the way. He rolled and yanked his pistol clear.

One of the Apaches leaped toward him, grabbing at his hand. Culhaine tried to jerk his hand and weapon away but the Indian seized it. He tried to stab Culhaine with his knife, but then twisted away as Culhaine pulled the trigger. The pistol fired but the bullet whined off harmlessly.

Kincaid leaned down, hugging the neck of his animal. He pulled his pistol and fired the six shots as quickly as he could. He hit one of the Apaches, driving him back toward the water in the pool.

The two Apaches opposite them continued to shoot. One round hit Kincaid in the side. He screamed once in surprise, and then rolled from the saddle. He lost the grip on his pistol, dropping it, but held onto the reins as his horse leaped back. Kincaid hit the ground, moaned, and didn't move.

Culhaine shoved at the Apache brave once. The Indian staggered and fell back. Culhaine swung his hand and fired his pistol. The round slammed into the Apache's face. Blood spurted as the brave fell to his back, his feet drumming in the soft sand.

Firing from the top of the ridge pounded the rocks on the opposite side of the canyon. Bullets whined off as the Apaches there tried to fight back. They popped up, fired, and dropped. But there were too many white men now, all shooting at the last two Apaches.

One of them was hit in the leg. He leaped back, out of one line of fire, but exposed himself to another. He was hit again, in the stomach. As he fell clear of the rock, another round struck him.

The last Apache shrieked once and leaped from cover. With his knife held high, he charged at Culhaine. Culhaine spun to face him raising his pistol, but before he could fire, the Indian was cut down. He fell back to the sand and didn't move. Culhaine got slowly to his feet, his pistol aimed at the downed Indian, and walked toward him.

Davis was up as the last of the Apaches fell. He began to work his way down to the canyon. Those around him did the same thing. One man broke off, checked the body of the closest Apache, and then stole the dead man's rifle.

Davis reached the canyon floor. He moved toward Culhaine. “You hit?”

“No.” Culhaine wiped his face with his left hand. “No. I'm not hit.”

Davis turned toward Kincaid. He was laying on his back, his horse's reins wrapped in his hand. His blood from the wound in his side stained the ground. He didn't move and his unseeing eyes stared up into the afternoon sun. His face was pasty white, waxy-looking in death.

Bailey appeared. “Apaches are all dead.”

Davis took a deep breath. “I didn't want this,” he said. “I tried to avoid a fight.”

“Apaches wanted it,” said Bailey. “They started it. Nothing we could do about it.”

“Let's get our water and get out of here,” said Culhaine.

“No,” said Davis. “We've got to bury the dead first. All of the dead.”

“Why?”

“Maybe, when these bucks don't reappear, and someone comes looking for them, they won't find the bodies. Might give us a couple of hours, maybe a couple of days. Time to get in, get he gold, and get out.”

Bailey crouched near Kincaid's body. “I wonder if he's got a family.”

“Why?” asked Davis.

“Be nice to send them some of the gold. He earned a share of it.”

“Hell,” said Davis. “We'll tell them where it is and let them get their own, if they want. He grabbed on to us. We don't owe him a thing.”

“Except that he's dead and he died helping us,” said Bailey quietly.

“The luck of the draw,” said Davis, “and nothing more.”

Buying the supplies had been far simpler than he thought it would be. El Paso was the jump-off point for prospectors heading into New Mexico, Old Mexico, back into southeastern Texas, or north into the Guadalupe Mountains. Hundreds of men came through El Paso, all of them heading somewhere else so that those selling supplies were making a good living. That meant they had a large stock from which to choose.

The big problem was water. Barrels could be bought, and they could be filled. But water weighed quite a bit, and hauling it long distances in the desert just didn't work. It evaporated and seeped from the barrel and leaked out onto the ground. Still, with water holes separated by fifty and a hundred miles, sometimes taking water barrels was the only way to cross the desert.

Travis had a wagon and he had horses. They didn't need shovels or picks or a hundred other things that prospectors had to carry. Lumber to build a placer mine, or pans to tickle it from the river weren't necessary. The gold had been mined and smelted and was sitting there waiting for those who could find it and carry it away.

He arranged to pick up a couple of barrels and to fill them later in the afternoon. He arranged for grain for the horses and food for Crockett and him. He bought an extra rifle and extra ammunition. That was the sort of thing that could always be used, and if they found themselves stranded without money, they could trade the rifle and ammo for whatever they might need.

That done, he headed back to the hotel, watching the crowds carefully. There was still a group of men outside the newspaper office. They were standing around reading the latest headlines that had been brought in by rail. The latest war news. One boy ran along the boardwalk yelling out the headlines. A man stopped the kid, spoke to him for a moment, and then hurried across the street.

Travis stood silently for a moment wondering what the news could be. He wondered if General Meade had managed to find the Rebels again and if another big battle had taken place. Thousands of men on a field with nothing to do but shoot at one another. No reason for it except that one side wore gray and the other wore blue.

For a moment he felt guilty because he had deserted his friends. The cause wasn't important. The cause was never important. It was the friends who had counted on him to be there to help them. The only reason he'd stayed in the army as long as he had was because of his friends.

“No,” he said out loud. A woman stopped and stared at him and Travis smiled at her. “Ma'am.” He touched his hat and then hurried around her, back toward the hotel.

He entered and found Emma Crockett waiting for him. She was no longer wearing her dress but had changed into jeans, a flannel shirt, and had tucked her hair up, on top of her head. She was drawing a few stares from some of the proper ladies of El Paso. One stood near a door, a lace handkerchief in her hand, fanning herself as if she couldn't believe the effrontery of a woman appearing in public in pants.

Travis said to her. “Looks like you've outraged the local ladies.”

“Mister Travis, if I'm going to go crawling about caves, riding in the desert, and climbing on rocks, I will do it in clothes designed for that purpose.” Her voice was icy.

“I've no objections,” said Travis holding up his hands in mock surrender.

The woman with the handkerchief snorted and then turned leaving the room. Travis watched her leave and then shrugged.

Crockett chose to ignore her. “You get everything?” she asked.

“Need to pick up the water barrels and have them filled and then we'll be ready to go.”

Crockett stood up and retrieved the hat on the couch. “Then let's do it.”

“I thought we'd wait until after dark.”

“It'll be dark in about an hour. Take us that long to get the barrels filled.”

Travis shrugged. He didn't like the idea of them maneuvering in the street in the daylight. Too many people around to watch them. Too easy to see them from the saloon.

“Well?” said Crockett.

Travis followed her out the door. He stopped long enough to survey the street but the two men who had been in Sweetwater were nowhere around.

“Let's do it,” he said.

Freeman finished his beer and then moved toward the table where the men were playing poker. He reached into his pocket, felt the coins there, the silver dollars mixed in with half bucks and quarters, and then looked at the money on the table.

“You have room for another player?”

The man holding the cards looked up and said, “Always room for one more. We're playing table stakes here. We're not going to sit around while you try to find enough money to call a pot. You don't have the money when you sit down, it's tough.”

“Table stakes it is,” said Freeman, pulling a chair over. The legs scraped on the rough wooden floor. He dropped into the chair, dug in his pocket, and pulled the money out. He began to arrange it.

“Doesn't look like you plan to stay around long,” said the dealer.

Freeman stared at the man and then turned. “Crosby. Hand me our stake.”

Crosby moved closer but when he hesitated, Freeman said, “Give it to me now.”

Crosby dropped a couple of half eagles and a double eagle on the table. Freeman pulled the gold coins closer and asked, “That sufficient?”

“That'll do just fine,” said the dealer. “Gentlemen, the name of the game is five-card stud. One down and the others face-up. Nothing's wild and no one gets an extra draw.”

With that he dealt the face-down cards around the table. He hesitated while a couple of players checked their hole cards. Freeman didn't bother with that.

The dealer flipped out the next series of cards and then looked at the man with a king showing. “Your bet.”

“Two bits.”

When everyone was in, they went around again. The king was still high and he made another two-bit bet. On the fourth go around a pair of tens appeared. That man bet half a buck and one of the others folded. Freeman finally peeked at his hole card, lifting the corner and bending down until he saw he had a queen there. Paired with the one showing, he had the high hand depending on the hole cards of the others.

When the bet came around to him, Freeman bumped it a quarter. That got in a look from the dealer, but he said nothing. The final cards were dealt and there was a pair of jacks showing, and the man with the tens now had a pair of eights to go with them.

“A buck,” he said.

Freeman had a pair of queens showing. One man might have a straight and the man with two pair might have a hole card that would match either of his pairs, giving him a full house. But to Freeman, the three queens, the two showing and the one hidden, was the hot hand.

When the betting got around to him, Freeman said, “I see the buck and bump it a buck.”

“He's got three queens,” said the man with the two pair.

“Or,” said the dealer, “he's got two pair queen high.”

Freeman wanted to grin. The only man he needed to worry about had just revealed he had nothing in the hole. Not if he was worried about Freeman having three queens. When the betting got around to him again, he bumped in another buck. Only the dealer stayed in.

“Not going to let you buy a pot,” he said. “I call.” He dropped a silver dollar onto the table.

Freeman flipped his hole card up, showing the third queen. He waited as each of the men examined his hand and then reached for the money in the center of the table.

“We've got to go,” said Crosby coming back.

“What do you mean?” asked Freeman.

Crosby hitchhiked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘They're here. Saw them in a wagon.”

Freeman started to speak and then stopped. He put a quarter in the center of the table and said, “For the dealer. For the good cards. Thank you.”

“You can't run out now,” said the man who had once held the two pair.

Freeman turned and stared at him. When the man said nothing more, Freeman dropped the money into his pocket. Ik nodded once at the dealer and said, “Thank you all. I'm sorry to have to run like this.”

At the front of the saloon he caught Crosby staring out the window. “Where'd they go?”

“On the wagon, down that way. She's dressed for the desert. Looks like they're pulling out now.”

“I figured they'd stay the night and start out in the morning.”

“Maybe they can't wait,” said Crosby. “All that gold pulls awful strong.”

“You get the horses,” said Freeman. “I'll walk down there and see what's going on. If they're riding out tonight, we'll be ready.”

Crosby grinned. “Damn. I had a very nice evening arranged with one of the ladies here.”

“Can't be helped now,” said Freeman. “Later, after we've got the gold, you can buy all the ladies you need.”

“I need one now,” said Crosby.