These men were tall and gaunt, and with the exception of Ormsby, all were heavily bearded. On the surface they were ordinary. Yet about each one was something, an intangible thing to be felt rather than seen, which placed these men beyond the ken.
“Didn’t expect to see me, did you?” Ormsby taunted. “Well, I’m here—and things are kinda diff’rent from the last time we met. Get up and we’ll have something to eat, then get movin’.”
He was roughly jovial once they were on the move again.
“I been keepin’ watch on you for a couple of days,” he said. “Kind of hoped you’d turn up buzzard bait without any trouble on our part, but since you was stubborn, we can tend to that detail when the time comes. The boss, he’ll have some good notions along that line. He likes to watch men dance on air.”
Kaintuck sought to question Ormsby as to his meaning, or what had become of Sabine and Mary Ellen. But beyond assuring them that they’d soon see, Ormsby volunteered no information, and his companions said nothing at all. His promise that it would be soon was fulfilled when, after scarcely an hour of riding, they came suddenly to a valley which showed unexpectedly lush. It was a virtual oasis in the desert, with a few cottonwoods standing amid green grass, their roots watered by springs of good water. A hundred acres were fertile, a dozen were green. Because this was in a bowl like depression lying below the surrounding rim, there was no indication of it until one stumbled upon the place.
A few head of cattle and horses grazed, with a stone corral hemming a corner of the meadow. Houses had been built at the edge of the bluff—cave like dugouts which were practically invisible.
Men lounged about, as lank and bearded as those who rode with Ormsby. Powder counted seven of them, making eleven in all, and then he saw Laredo by one of the houses.
There were women as well. Five of them were squaws, busily at work while the men loafed. Two appeared to be white women, but they worked with the squaws and were scarcely to be distinguished from them. Then his questing gaze found Mary Ellen and Sabine. They were standing near one of the dugouts, obviously closely watched by the squaws.
Laredo’s eyes were fever-bright. He stood with his hands behind his back, and it took a second look to see that he kept the posture because a rawhide thong tied his wrists together. A rope about one ankle tethered him to a stake, and his extreme range was half a dozen steps—just enough to bring him up short of a small stream running past. Apparently he was tethered here like a wild beast, in sight and almost able to touch the water, and at the same time almost perishing with thirst.
Powder’s eyes narrowed, swinging from Laredo to another man who stood as if awaiting them. From the way in which the others approached, it was apparent that this was the boss. He was not particularly big or outstanding in appearance, though his eyes were roving, his manner nervous. Ormsby and his companions led Powder and Kaintuck directly to him.
“Here they are, boss,” Ormsby said laconically. “We took ’em alive, like you ordered.”
“Fine, fine. A good piece of work, Ormsby, a very good job indeed.” The man’s voice was high-pitched, quick and excited, like the gobble of a nervous turkey. “That is better—much better. We will have a good show.” He turned to glare at Powder.
“You are the trouble-maker,” he pronounced. “One who would not be warned by the buzzards, nor turned back by the perils of the desert.”
“Usually, when I start somewhere, I keep going,” Powder informed him, but he was watching Laredo from the corner of his eye. His lips were puffy, his tongue protruded from the corner of his mouth. “Just what sort of a setup is this, anyway?”
The question seemed to please the boss. There was a sort of crow to his voice as he answered. “This is the Bourne from which no traveler returns! Some stay because to them it is home, a haven beyond trouble. Others remain, as the women will do, as wives for some of us. Still others, like yourself, find it the end of their trail, because they would ruin our secret and end our paradise. That is something which we do not permit.”
Powder swung abruptly. He was getting the picture. A fugitive from justice, the boss had evaded the law by heading deep into this inhospitable country. Probably the posse which followed him had finally turned back, convinced that he was dead. But deep in the desert he had come upon this habitable bit of land, and other men of like caliber had joined with him.
The poisoned springs, the carved buzzard rocks, and the uncanny reputation of the place had been built up in every possible way, the boss cannily realizing that superstitious fear of the unknown would keep most people at a distance and help to preserve their secret. Those who did penetrate deep into the desert, for whatever reason, were summarily dealt with.
Disregarding the babbling man, Powder crossed to the stream which was just beyond Laredo’s reach. Certainly he had no love for the man, but torture for man or beast went against the grain. Two or three of the others started forward uncertainly, but halted, undecided. Powder filled his hat with water, held it to Laredo’s cracked and puffy lips.
He drank greedily, the boss watching with a half-mocking amusement. At close range, Powder saw something else—the red mark which ran around Laredo’s neck, like a rope-burn, the wry manner in which he held his head.
“Thanks,” he mumbled hoarsely, and Powder walked back to where the boss waited.
“A beautiful gesture,” the boss mocked. “But it was about time to allow him some water in any case. Your action confirms my earlier judgment, that we cannot afford to offer you the usual choice—of joining with us, or accepting the inevitable. But it is plain that you could never be one of us, a trustworthy member of our community. In the case of Laredo, he was given a choice, but he proved unreasonable. So—” He shrugged.
Powder kept silent, refusing to rise to the bait. It was only too plain that these outlaws took a sadistic pleasure in torturing such victims as fell into their hands. One of the others took advantage of his silence to interrupt.
“Shall we string ’em up now, boss? See how good they can dance on air?” Repressed eagerness was in his voice, and the others pressed close like a wolf-pack at the scent of blood. It seemed to inflame the boss.
“No!” He fairly screamed the word. “Since when do you decide these things? It is none of your business—”
“But if they’re to be hung, I thought—”
“You thought, imbecile! When did you learn to think?” The boss darted forward, thrusting his face close to that of the man who dared to question him. “I do the thinking here! I am the boss!”
The gust passed as quickly as it had seized him. He walked back, mopping his face with a swipe of dirty sleeve, his mind on a new tack.
“Your clothes will fit me,” he informed Powder. “That will be fine. We always need new things here. Some of these fools think we should make raids on the settlements and take what we want—supplies and women. This is the better way—the spider which waits. Someday when we are stronger—that will be different.”
Some of the crew exchanged sly grins. Apparently they were accustomed to these outbursts of temper and not much worried by them. For all that, they obeyed him. There was more than a trace of fanaticism in this outlaw, but there was also a canny shrewdness and capacity for leadership. Another man eyed the two girls avidly and asked a question.
“When do we get the women?” he demanded. “Me an’ Joe ain’t had no wives. Ain’t we waited long enough?”
“Almost, Toby, almost, but not quite,” the boss retorted, his tone and manner almost school-teacherish. “Each thing in its proper time and place. The women are still weary from their journey. It is better that a bride be refreshed and of good mind. This evening we shall have these men do their dance for us, while Laredo finishes his! After that we will be in the proper festive mood. Meanwhile, feed the prisoners and lodge them safely.”
He turned away, signifying that the interview was at an end, and Powder and Kaintuck were prodded at gun-point to a cave like house remote from the others. The heavy log door was shut, but not before they had been brought food, as the boss had ordered.
Kaintuck shook his head ruefully. “I’ve been in some funny places and met some crazy folks before,” he said, “but never anything to match this. Did you get a good look at Laredo?”
“Looks like they hung him a while, then cut him down so they could do it over again,” Powder nodded grimly. “That seems to be their notion of entertainment.”
“And then they stake him out just beyond reach of water,” Kaintuck added. “Well, let’s eat while we’ve got the chance.”
That proved to be better advice than Kaintuck guessed, for, once the meal was ended, three armed men appeared and proceeded to tie them hand and foot, their arms twisted behind their backs. Then they were left alone, and the heavy door was closed again.
The floor and walls were of dirt, hard-packed and smooth. That left nothing at all against which they could rub their bonds in an effort to loosen them. Even if they did get them off, the situation looked far from promising, but they had to try. Kaintuck rolled and inched his way around until finally they lay back to back, where with their fingers they could work at the knots.
The thongs were rawhide, drawn tight and skillfully knotted. Working under such handicaps, it seemed as time dragged that the task would be impossible.
Kaintuck spoke finally. “They sure figger we can’t cut the mustard—which mebby gives us some chance. But plenty slim. Only good thing about it, sounds like the girls ain’t been mistreated—yet.”
“That helps,” Powder agreed, and they fell silent again. It was apparent that Ormsby was a member of this fugitive band, and he had tricked Laredo, leading him into a trap. Though offered membership in the gang, Laredo had balked at such a proposition. It was bizarre, but that made it no less real.
The day was endless. No one came near them, and picking at their bonds seemed hopeless. But memory of Laredo, of what was promised for them, was a spur, and with occasional intervals for rest they kept at it. Finally Kaintuck grunted, and Powder felt something give.
“I got that blasted knot,” Kaintuck gritted. “There’s one more, but I think it’s started—”
Powder waited, holding his hands in the best position he could manage, while the sweat of apprehension popped on both of them. Their arms were half-numb, and even with the steady effort they had made their fingers were wooden and fumbling. Possible freedom was in sight, but so much time had been taken that the day grew old. If their guards should come now...
Powder pulled, felt the knot slip, and had his hands loose. Bringing his arms back to a normal position made him clamp his teeth with agony, but he set to work moving them, and after a minute, with fingers which still fumbled, he turned to the knots which held Kaintuck.
Being able to see was a big aid. Presently he had Kaintuck’s hands free, then, grimly conscious of the lengthening shadows which could be felt in the increasing darkness of this room, they started at the thongs which still confined their ankles. Kaintuck’s voice was cautious. “You got any plan, Powder?”
“Have to fool ’em if we can and give them a surprise party,” Powder said. “If there’s not too many—”
But as their legs came loose there came also the sound of approaching men, guards sent to fetch them for the grim dancing at which they were slated to perform the principal roles. Since the others were talking, it was apparent that at least four had been sent to do this job. One man fumbled at the lock, and spoke warningly.
“Have your guns ready, boys—and two of you stay back out of reach while we see that everything’s all right. It ain’t likely that they could get themselves loose, but, like the boss says, a man’s a fool to take chances.”
Powder groaned inwardly. Apparently the boss had given special instructions, and this was another demonstration why he held that position. It looked as though a day of tormenting effort was to be spoiled by his forethought.