His head ached intolerably. When he moved, his shoulder felt as though it had been shattered. He felt as if he were a very old man just about ready for the grave. It was a sad and alarming sensation. He didn’t want to open his eyes and see his last sight of the world.
The soft murmur of voices reached his ears.
A man said: ‘You won’t get away with this, you red-assed bastards,’ and the man was angry almost beyond speech. A white man. Brack.
Will opened his eyes and saw Brack. He lay on his belly with his hands tied behind his back, his legs bent backward and lashed to his wrists. He must have been in considerable discomfort. The man’s face was contorted with suffering and rage.
The Utes stood and squatted around, chatting amiably among themselves.
He looked at the sky and saw that the day was just about done. From inside the house, a man screamed. The terrible sound set up an uncontrollable shivering in Will. He tried to raise himself on one elbow and found that his hands were tied behind his back. The rawhide that held them was so tightly drawn that his hands were dead. His legs were free. A man should be thankful for small mercies, he supposed.
Brack was still shouting at the Indians. One of them strolled up to him and struck him with the haft of a bow. Not even that stopped Brack. Any kind of opposition was unbearable to the man.
Will said: ‘Shut your loud trap, you fool, or they’ll kill you.’
Brack turned and glared at him.
‘Aw, Christ,’ he said. ‘I thought the one good thing that had come outa this was they killed you!’
Will ignored this and said: ‘Who’s that they’re takin’ to pieces inside?’
‘Summers,’ said Brack. ‘When they’re through with him, they’ll most likely start on us.’
‘You have any more men around?’
‘Not too many,’ Brack said, looking bitter. ‘Most of the crew lit out for the creeks to pan for gold.’ That was news to Will and even in those circumstances, he could see the ironic side of it. ‘Four of us holed up here, five counting the Chinee. The rest’re dead but Mike and me. And Mike don’t have too long to live I shouldn’t wonder.’
The Indians were watching them, listening to their strange words.
But they didn’t kill Summers, not then. Several of them drove him stumbling from the house. He looked a mess, almost impossible to recognize. His shirt had been torn off him and his torso and face were a mass of blood. The sight of him turned Will’s stomach. When he halted, he swayed and moaned, and seemed incapable of taking in the scene around him.
Will thought: What happened to Joe? Had he gotten away? Had he taken word to the family? That was their only chance.
Summers collapsed in a heap. Will knew he was dead.
There was a short Indian wearing a white man’s silk-hat with a feather in it. This should have made him a comical sight, but it did not. It seemed to accentuate the menace in the man. He was giving orders. Horses were brought up. The man in the silk-hat gave more orders, gesturing authoritatively. Brack was kicked to his feet after his legs had been released from their bonds. A brave came up to Will and signed for him to get up. With some difficulty he climbed to his feet.
He walked up to Brack and said: ‘Joe Widbee was around. Did you see if they killed him?’ He could not believe that the apparently immortal Negro was dead.
Brack glowered at him.
‘After they jumped you,’ he said, ‘a whole bunch of them rode for those trees yonder and there was a whole lotta shooting. They didn’t get it all their own way. Maybe they got him and maybe they didn’t.’
‘You’d best pray they didn’t,’ Will said.
Brack said: ‘We don’t have a prayer. You know that? These devils will take us to pieces and they’ll laugh.’
‘Could be,’ said Will. He had the feeling that Brack was on the edge of breaking.
The Indians were mounting. They were about to move out and it looked as if they were taking Will and Brack with them, alive. A small spark of hope lit in Will’s breast.
An Indian went up to Brack, swung him around so he faced west and shoved him in that direction. Brack swore at him. The Indian hit him with the butt of a spear and Brack kicked the man in the groin. The fellow fell to the ground, holding his genitals and Brack stomped him in the belly. The others sat their horses, watching. The Indian struggled to his feet, picked up his spear and beat Brack repeatedly until he fell to the ground. The Indian then prodded him with the sharp end till he rose to his feet. The other Indians were nodding and smiling. Brack’s face was flecked with dust and blood.
Will said: ‘Brack, you’re a bigger damn fool than I thought you was.’
Brack said a rude word and started to tramp west. Will fell in behind him and, surrounded by the mounted Indians, they headed across the valley of the Broken Spur. Dark was starting to come down. Will wondered if night would offer them the opportunity to escape, but he doubted it. The Indians weren’t wasting any time and they made no allowance for the fact that their prisoners were on foot. With bow and spear used liberally, they kept the two white men at a trot. Pretty soon both middle-aged men were sweating, breathless and exhausted. Will reckoned his heart would give out on him before a Ute hatchet did the job.
After a while, Will lost all sense of reality. He kept his legs going mechanically until they collapsed under him and the Indians beat him to his feet again. Brack was in much the same state. They fought on wordlessly through a mental and physical haze, somehow hanging on to life.
Around midnight, they were out of the valley and climbing into the hills. It was the climbing that finished them. They both went down and nothing that the Utes could do would move them. The Indians seemed to realize this and stood around and talked it over.
When he had gotten some of his breath back, Brack said to Will: ‘We don’t go on, they’ll kill us.’
‘Suits me,’ said Will.
But apparently, the Utes did not yet want their two captives dead. Will reckoned they were keeping them as hostages in case a punitive expedition came after them. It was the sensible thing to do. Right now, the Utes decided they were pretty tired too and decided to stop there the night. Uncovered by blankets, exhausted and wracked by thirst, Will and Brack fell asleep where they lay.