Authors: Jack Higgins
He had to get off the mountain, that much was certain. He blundered forward into the darkness through the greasewood and mantinilla, losing his balance, stumbling from one gully into another until he had lost all sense of direction.
When he finally paused for a rest he was hopelessly lost. The rain was still falling heavily, drowning all noise, but behind him loose stones tumbled down the slope. He stood peering into the darkness, his throat dry. As another shower of stones cascaded down, he turned to run.
Someone thudded into his back with stunning force, sending him staggering to his knees. He turned, flailing desperately, feeling hands reach for his throat.
There were hands everywhere, forcing him down against the ground, twisting his arms behind him. He started to scream and something was pushed into his mouth, half choking him, leaving only the rush of the heavy rain and the sound of unfamiliar voices.
Cochin said, 'If we deliver this one to Ortiz, perhaps it will satisfy him. He was the worst against our people in the mine.'
There was a grumbling from the others, then Chato said, 'Only Rivera will satisfy him.'
'Then what are we to do with this one?'
'Glad I brought the Chevvy now?' Dillinger asked, with everyone except Nachita crowded under the raised top of the convertible. 'Like college kids crowded into a phone booth.'
He didn't mind, for to make room for the others, Rose was sitting in his lap.
'Look at Nachita's umbrella,' Fallon said.
The old Indian had pulled two flat pieces of what looked like thatch from his pack and had angled them over his head so that they formed a peak like a roof and sloped down on either side.
'He's got a portable roof,' Dillinger said.
Chavasse chimed in, 'You don't expect Indians to ride around with umbrellas, do you?'
Suddenly all their attempts at humour stopped. The cry of an owl had pierced through the rain.
'That's no owl,' said Fallon.
'Everyone out of the car, quick,' Dillinger said. 'It's too easy a target.'
They scrambled out into the diminishing rain. Nachita was staring to the north. Something seemed to flit between the bushes on the far side of the clearing.
Fallon's instinct was to head for the horses. Crouching, he ran for the greasewood on the far edge of the thicket where the horses were tethered. Damn, he thought, puffing, he was feeling his age in his bones.
The horses moved restlessly, stamping their feet and snorting. Fallon strained his eyes searching the darkness, his rifle at the ready.
A tremendous flash of lightning seemed to split the sky wide open. A crash of thunder made the mountain seem to tremble. Then a second flash of lightning laid bare the hillside. In its brief light Fallon saw an Apache amongst the animals.
He gave a hoarse cry of alarm. The Apache rushed at him, Fallon fired blindly again and again, but the Indian kept coming, his right hand swinging upwards. Fallon was aware of the knife, but it was too late to do anything about it. The point caught him under the chin, penetrating the roof of the mouth, slicing into the brain.
In the next brief moment of illumination, Dillinger saw what was happening, ran to save Fallon but too late. The Apache and Fallon were sprawled over each other in death.
Gradually the thunder moved away across the mountains and the rain stopped. As dawn began to edge away the darkness, Nachita slipped into the brush. When he reappeared, he reported, 'They have gone now.'
It was Villa, on his knees beside Fallon, who pulled out the knife and wiped it on his pants leg. Rose gazed down in horror.
'He wasn't a cautious man,' Rivera said solemnly.
'If it wasn't for you, he'd be a live man,' Dillinger replied.
Rose put her arm around Dillinger's shoulders.
They took a miner's short-handled pick that had been strapped to Fallon's saddle and dug two shallow graves as best they could, covering the thin soil with rocks as a protection against animals.
It wasn't a time to conduct a service. 'There's one American who won't make it home,' Dillinger said to no one in particular.
They moved out.
It was perhaps half an hour later when Dillinger noticed smoke up ahead, rising on the damp air. He stopped the car and got out and Nachita moved cautiously down through the trees and they followed to where a white trace of smoke lifted into the morning from a clearing in the brush.
They found Rojas, or what had been Rojas, suspended by his ankles from a dead thorn tree above a fire.
The Indians were all assembled around Ortiz.
'We started out with more than twice as many as they did,' Ortiz said, 'and none of us is a woman. Now they have lost two to our one. The gods are turning in our favour.'
It was Chato who said, 'Killing Rojas was enough. It was wrong to kill the old man.'
'Silence!' Ortiz said. 'Manilot was told by me to turn the horses loose. The old man saw him and would have shot him. Now they are both dead. The next one to be dead must be Rivera.'
'Do we wait for them here?' Kata wanted to know.
Ortiz shook his head. 'First we must confuse them a little.' He turned to a small, swarthy man in a green shirt and leather waistcoast. 'Paco, take my horse and six men. Ride to Adobe Wells, then circle back here. We will take the pack trail through the canyon and across the mountains to the Place of Green Waters. We will wait for you there.'
'How can we be sure that Nachita will follow Paco and not us?' Kata said. 'The old one is cunning.'
'Which is why he will follow the band led by my horse,' Ortiz said.
'Perhaps they also will split into two groups?'
'There are too few of them.' Ortiz shook his head. 'They sleep lightly enough as it is.'
Paco had already selected his men. He mounted Ortiz's pony and rode quickly down towards the desert. Ortiz turned and looked to the east again.
The dust was a little more pronounced and he thought of Rivera, a smile touching his lips. It would not be long now and the pleasure he was beginning to find lay in the contemplation of his enemy's destruction.
He swung on to the back of Paco's pony, nodded to the others and led the way up into the canyon.
By noon the party from Hermosa had moved into a broken wilderness of rock and sand, crisscrossed by dried-up water courses. Despite the lack of wind, hot air rose to meet them like the blast from a furnace door, lifting the sand into dust devils.
The line of riders was strung out along the trail, their faces covered by scarves against the dust, Dillinger for once leading the way. The grisly discovery in the clearing had had a chastening effect on everyone. Even Chavasse, whose high spirits were normally well in evidence, was strangely subdued as he rode, lolling in the saddle, half asleep.
Dillinger couldn't get his mind off Fallon. He'd gotten to like the old guy without ever knowing much about him. He wondered if Fallon had any relatives back in the States. He had to have somebody, a son or a daughter some place, a cousin, a niece or nephew, somebody. Nobody would ever know he had died, or where. Maybe he could be reburied when this was all over, with a proper marker. Shit, what a lousy way to go.
He glanced back at the others. The trail was much better now as it descended and, on impulse, he increased speed and went off after Nachita who scouted in front.
He came over a small rise and went down to a sloping plateau of sand and shale dotted with mesquite and cactus trees. Several hundred yards away a shoulder of the mountain lifted sharply toward the vast, sprawling peaks of the sierras.
On one side a canyon cut through sand-polished stone. On the other the slope was open to the desert, dropping through the tangle of catclaw and brush over shale and tilted slabs of rock to the desert below.
Nachita had dismounted below the shoulder of the mountain. When Dillinger drove up in the white convertible, which now had a film of sand and dirt on it, Nachita was squatting on his haunches beside his pony, examining the ground. Dillinger and Rose both got out of the car.
The barren soil was crisscrossed by tracks. Dillinger dropped to one knee and frowned.
'They have separated,' Nachita said. 'Nine of them have gone through the canyon, the others down to the desert.'
'Why would they split up?'
Nachita shrugged. 'Perhaps they have quarrelled. Some of the young men, remembering what they have done, will already be afraid. Chato and Cochin confided in me. They think Ortiz is mad to go back to the last century, always fighting, always on the run. If Ortiz kills, they can be punished, too.'
Dillinger took out a pack of chewing gum, offered a stick to Nachita, who shook his head. 'Which way has Ortiz gone?' Dillinger asked.
'Into the desert. His pony had led all the way. Its tracks are easy to recognise.'
The others rode up and dismounted. Rivera came forward, beating dust from his coat. 'What has happened?'
'They've split up,' Dillinger told him. 'Ortiz and a party of six have ridden down into the desert. The rest have gone through the canyon. God knows where it leads to.'
'How will we know which party Juanita is with?' Rivera asked.
Nachita said, 'With Ortiz. He is no fool.'
'I've been this way before,' Villa said. 'A long time ago. An old pack trail goes over the mountains. It's hardly used these days. There's a little chapel in the pine trees on top. Santa Maria del Agua Verde, it's called. Our Lady of the Green Water, because of the spring that bubbles up inside. It's the nearest water for forty miles.'
Nachita shook his head. 'There is water not a dozen miles from here where the foothills of the mountains run into the desert. Once there was a small
rancheria
there. Now there are only adobe walls and a well.'
'And that is where Ortiz is going?' Rivera asked.
Nachita nodded, and Chavasse said, 'It makes sense. He's obviously made those who refused to follow him any longer take the tougher trail. Their tongues will be hanging out before they reach Agua Verde.'
Rivera nodded. 'This time he's played right into our hands.'
'It's too easy,' Dillinger said.
'You give Ortiz too much credit,' Rivera said.
Chavasse shook his head. 'I agree. It does sound too easy.' He turned to Nachita. 'Ortiz knows we're following. How can we hope to surprise him?'
The old Apache permitted himself one of his rare smiles. 'There are ways, but we must wait and see. First I shall scout the trail.' He mounted his pony and rode away.
Dillinger got the canteen from the back seat and offered it to Rose. She drank, then he did. As he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, he noticed that she was looking at him in a different way.
'Johnny,' she said, 'your friend Fallon knew who you really are. Now the only one is Rivera. If your enemy knows, shouldn't a friend know.'
Dillinger looked at her eyes, the feature that had first attracted him to her. Would the truth blow everything up?
'Come on, Rose,' he said matter-of-factly, 'you know who I am.'
'I know you robbed banks up north. I know you are too familiar with guns. The Federalistas are looking for this car, but
who
are you?'
Women always find out, sooner or later. He knew that.
'If Johnny is the first part,' she said, 'is Dillinger the second?'
'You win the big prize.'
'If I had to fall in love with a thief, why not the best?'
'The best are the bankers. They steal from the people every day and get away with it. When I unload them once in a while, all it does is raise their insurance rates a bit. It doesn't stop them from stealing.'
'You are justifying breaking the law because others break the law, too?'
'That's the whole point, Rose, those bastards don't break the law, they steal legally. We break the law taking it away from them. Is your uncle any different from a bank robber?'
'Yes,' she said.
Was she challenging him? 'How?'
'He's worse. To him, killing is a normal part of business, of getting what he wants.'
'Yet you talk to him like there was nothing ever bad between you.'
'Only until Juanita is found.'
'And then?'
'I must see if I have caught a thief.'
It was perhaps half an hour later that he saw the old man galloping toward him and braked to a halt. Nachita pulled up alongside.
'I have found them,' Nachita said. 'Follow me slowly.'
There was a place in the distance where a narrow spine or rock ran out into the desert like a causeway. As they approached, the old man led the way to the shelter of a narrow ravine. Dillinger killed the engine.
Nachita dismounted from his horse and started up the steep slope. Dillinger and Rose followed. It was hard going and the old man pulled him down just before they reached the top.
'Careful, now.'
They stayed in the cover of some dead pines and Dillinger peered over. Several hundred yards away a ridge lifted out of the ground, dipping in toward the mountain.
Nachita said, 'The ruins and the well are on the other side in a hollow.'
'You're sure they are there?'
'There is a sentry posted in the hillside in a mesquite thicket below the first gully. An open attack would be useless.'
Rose said, 'Why attack anyway? Can't we just negotiate whatever it is Ortiz wants for the child?'
Nachita paused before answering. 'It is possible,' he said, 'that I can approach their camp openly. I can cry out to the sentry from cover, say I am Nachita come to pow-wow with Ortiz.'
'What would happen?' Dillinger asked.
'Ortiz would either kill me or pow-wow.'
'We can't take that chance,' Rose said.
'Even if we were to talk,' Nachita said, 'Ortiz is likely to ask for something we cannot give hin.'
'Like what?' Dillinger asked.
'Rivera's life.' Nachita sighed. 'We will wait for the others.'
Dillinger, sitting on the running board of the Chevvy next to Rose, could see them coming for quite some distance. For the moment there was only the heat and the desert. A small green lizard appeared from the bush a few feet away, life in a dead world. He watched it for a while. It disappeared with extraordinary rapidity as the others rode up.
Rivera stood in front of a boulder, his arms crossed.
The others squatted in a semicircle before Nachita and Dillinger, who explained the situation.
'It would seem that we haven't a hope in hell of surprising them,' Chavasse said.
Nachita nodded and rose to his feet. 'We must make them come to us. It is the only way.'
'And how do we do that?' Rivera demanded.
'I will show you.'
They followed him out into the desert toward a ridge with a narrow gully through its centre making a natural entrance. The spine of rock petered out perhaps a hundred yards farther on.
'Two riders must go out into the desert. Once beyond the point they will be seen.'
'And Ortiz will give chase?' Chavasse said.
The old man nodded. 'The rest of the party will be hidden behind the ridge. Once Ortiz and his men follow their quarry through that gully, the rest will be simple.'
'Why two riders?' Dillinger asked.
Nachita shrugged. 'One man alone might look suspicious, but two might indicate that we also have split our party.'
'And my daughter?' Rivera demanded.
'She will undoubtedly be left with a guard. I will work my way across the mountainside on foot and enter the camp from behind while you occupy them here.'
'It's a good plan,' Rivera said slowly.
'It only remains to decide who is to act as decoy,' Villa put in softly. 'An unenviable task.'
Dillinger sighed. 'I think the bait would look a whole lot stronger if I drove out there in the convertible with the top down as if I didn't have a care in the world.'
There was silence, then Nachita said, 'I agree, but there should still be someone with you. If you are alone, it would be suspicious.'
Rose said, 'He is not alone.'
Chavasse tried to object. 'I'll go, not Rose.'
'Wrong,' Rose said. 'If we've been observed before this ...'
'I'm certain we have,' Nachita said.
'Then we should seem the same. I will be the passenger.'
Nachita said, 'Good, it is settled. Give me fifteen minutes, then move out.'
He turned and ran lightly across the broken ground, disappearing into the jumbled mass of boulders that littered the hillside. The rest of the party started to make ready.
Dillinger took the magazine drum out of the Thompson, checked that everything was working then fitted it carefully back into place. Then he took the clip from the butt of the Colt, emptied it and reloaded again with care, as if his life might depend on it. He put the Thompson on the floor to the right of the accelerator, next to Rose's rifle.
Rose leaned over and kissed his cheek. 'For luck,' she said.
'I told you we'd come out of this thing, didn't I?' He grinned. 'Besides, I've been chased before.' He replaced the Colt in its shoulder holster and put the top of the convertible down. Getting behind the wheel, he said, 'Let's go.'
He turned on the ignition and drove away slowly, waving to Chavasse behind a boulder. Rivera and Villa had taken up positions directly opposite.