The likeness to a falcon’s head was so striking that Crow wondered whether men hadn’t been improving on the hands of nature carving away some of the rock to strengthen the resemblance. But when he looked at it more carefully, he could see the lines of fracture in the cliff across the valley and the way that wind and rain and ice had exposed the weaknesses, breaking off chunks of bare rock to model it into the black bird. Now topped with snow, like a bizarre plume of dazzling feathers, it was easy from that one position to see the cruel hook of the beak, and the hollow like an eye.
‘We’ve made it, Crow,’ sighed Amy Okie, hugging herself and panting almost as if she was in the middle of some racking orgasm.
‘If’n those bears don’t reappear,’ said the shootist, pointing ahead of them where the tracks of the five animals led across the virgin whiteness, vanishing at a forking of the trail. ‘They must live hereabouts. Wouldn’t care to run into them again.’
‘You’d scare them off, my hero,’ she replied, smiling at him with some trace of her former fondness. But having once seen the dark side of her character, Crow wasn’t taken in by the sweetness and light.
‘Maybe. Come on. Let’s go find this mine and maybe shelter from the storms. Lay the boy some place.’
‘He still lives?’ she asked, with a clear note of disappointment in her voice. The tone as prim as if she was asking whether a servant had remembered to bring in some clean damask napkins.
‘Just.’
‘If he goes, then it’ll all be mine, Crow.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Mine, all mine. The silver. Money. I’ll be rich. Fine clothes. Silk under-things. A beautiful house. ‘I’ll travel.’
‘Best make sure the ore’s there, ’fore you start spending it.’
‘Course it’s there. We’ve done it. I’m a success, Crow. A woman of power. A success.’
‘Once met a gunslinger, out near Juarez. Must be a good eight years ago. Name was Bobby Zimmerman.’
‘What of him?’
‘He said something about success.’
‘What?’
‘Said that there wasn’t any success like failure, and that failure wasn’t any damned success at all.’
‘I don’t think I understand that, Crow,’ Amy said, wrinkling her forehead in bewilderment.
‘Not sure I do, either. Maybe Bobby didn’t. Recall he was gunned down by a lady dealer out west. Lowland Sarah. Sad-eyed woman. Kept a little pocket pistol in her garter. Big enough to take him away to buy the farm, I guess.’
‘I know what’s success and what’s not, Crow. I’ve lived with the one long enough to know what the other is about. I’ve dreamed of it. Power and money and all the things it buys.’
‘Happiness?’ he asked.
‘Of course,’ she hissed at him, eyes narrowing at the blasphemy. At that moment Crow realized that everything had combined to turn her mind. If she wasn’t totally mad now, she was so far along the road that he doubted she’d ever be able to turn back again.
‘Stuff of dreams, Amy. That’s what it is. Some folks find it. Most don’t.’
‘I have, Crow. I truly have. Now let’s go see where it’s all waiting. Then away home.’
‘Yeah. Be easier getting out.’
‘I know. I’ve been drawing my own map, Crow. Very carefully, each night. I have a good memory. I believe I could find my own way out.’
The madness showed in her not realizing what a clear warning she was giving him of her possible intentions.
‘Take care,’ he said, quietly. Amaryllis Okie didn’t hear him. She wasn’t meant to.
The map was clear, all the way through to the end of the line. It was easy to use the references of ‘the bird’s head and beak, following the pointers to lead them to a point at the bottom of a gently-sloping cliff. It was obvious to someone of Crow’s great tracking skills that there had been a deal of activity around the lower part of the trail some time ago. As far as he could tell, in the places where the wind had swept the rock bare of snow, nobody had been around with shod animals for a year or so, but that would fit in with the timing as far as Cousin Radley was concerned. There was a faint track leading up the face of the cliff, pointing to what looked like a small cave, partly hidden by some scrubby bushes. If you’d been looking for a silver mine, you’d have ridden on by. There was nothing about the dark hole in the cliff to distinguish it from dozens of others scattered through that part of the Sierras.
‘I’ll go up,’ said Amy, swinging her leg over the back of the mule, giving the reins to Crow.
‘No.’
‘I’m in charge of this show, Crow.’
‘Not of my life. With those bears runnin’ free near here, I don’t aim to stay around. We’ll all go up to the mouth of the mine. The animals can be tethered down here. If’n they scent the bears coming back they’ll let us know soon enough.’
‘We can hide in the mine, then?’ she asked, a curious smile hovering on her lips.
‘Yeah. Why not?’
‘And Edgar?’
‘Right. Be out of the wind, and it looks like there’s more snow on the way, tasting that old blue norther rising up.’
Inside there was clear evidence that men had been living in the cave. Even without using a light it was possible to see that some attempts had been made to shore up a narrow passage leading straight down into the mountain. There was the marks of a fire, the ashes still where they’d been when Radley had left the mine. There were also a few tins scattered about and some broken glass. A shovel with a snapped haft to it and the head of a pick, red with rust.
‘Where will the silver be?’ asked Amy, taking absolutely no notice of Crow as he laid the sleeping boy on a ledge, to one side of the cave, tucking the blankets around him.
‘Could be deep. Could be lyin’ round so you pick it up in your fingers,’ he replied.
‘I’m going in to have a look. The lamp’s on the pack mule, isn’t it?’
‘No. There was two. I brought one along. It’s here.’ The light from the oil-lamp was feeble and yellow, guttering as the wind bit into the opening. ‘Take care of it, Amy. There’s no more fuel for it. Won’t last more than an hour or so.’
She took it from him, mouth working as if she was chewing some tough meat. Her eyes darted suspiciously around the mine, as though she saw robbers lurking in every shadowed corner. He noticed that, despite the cold, she was sweating again, like she had when she’d been needing to use some of the heroin.
‘You stay here, now.’
‘Sure, ma’am. Go find your treasure.’
There was something in his voice that penetrated and she turned to face him. Her cloak pulled a little to one side and he saw that she was carrying both of her late husband’s pistols, their ornamented butts glistening in the golden light.
‘I’m not a fool, Crow. I don’t look for a pile of ingots, you know.’
‘Sure.’
‘I don’t even look for piles of ore. I just want to look and see what’s what. It’s my right. My precious right, Crow. Precious, precious, lovely black bird mine.’ She was crooning, using the sort of voice that a mother might use to put a baby to sleep. Her eyes half-closed, she stood swaying from side to side, smiling to herself.
It was a smile that brought a shudder to Crow, and he was aware of the short hair rising on the nape of his neck
‘I’ll stay with the lad.’
‘Who? Oh, yes, dear Edgar. Still not dead, dear boy? No matter. No matter.’
‘Don’t get lost,’ he said, trying to make it sound as if he cared.
‘No. Fare thee well, Crow.’ She vanished into the darkness and he could see the faint glow of the lamp, and hear her boots rattling over loose stones, fading away.
He sat down on his heels, wondering how the lamented Radley had found the mine. There were two battered tin mugs among the ashes, and that meant he must have had himself a partner. Why had they left? Where was the other man? His eye caught a slip of paper sticking from the top of one of the tins near the opening and he was just about to investigate when he heard a piercing scream, vibrating from the dark hole.