‘These mules are sure slow.’
Sam smiled tightly. The strain he felt was betrayed by the rigidity of his shoulders, the set of his jaw. ‘That’s why I’m usin’ ’em,’ he responded.
‘A wagon would’ve worked just as well.’
‘Do you want to ride in a wagon with that much dynamite?’
Oz shrugged. ‘We could’ve padded it with a lot of straw.’
‘We could’ve,’ Sam agreed. ‘I’d rather trust the mules. They’re awful sure-footed.’
‘They are that,’ Oz agreed. It was obvious his agreement was reluctant. ‘If I was movin’ that slow, I’d be sure-footed too.’
Six mules wended their way along the side of the hill. They were strung together with a single line, so they moved single-file. Five of the six were each loaded with four cases of dynamite. They were lashed into place with carefully knotted diamond hitches, that either Sam or Oz checked every hour or so. The sixth mule had a different pack, containing enormous coils of black wick and caps.
‘Are you sure you can get this all to go off at the same time?’ Oz asked for at least the dozenth time.
Sam smiled again, through the dust and dirt that coated them both. ‘It’ll go,’ he assured his friend.
‘Where’d you learn to use this stuff anyway?’
‘I worked in a mine for a month once.’
‘Just a month?’
‘That was enough.’
‘Didn’t like dynamite that much, huh?’
‘Didn’t mind the dynamite. I did mind bein’ underground. I promised the guy I’d help him for a month. I swore to God if I survived that month I’d never go underground again till I do it face up, with somebody pattin’ me in the face with a shovel.’
‘If one o’ them mules stumbles, that may be before you think.’
Sam smiled more broadly. ‘If one of those mules stumbles, neither one of us will need burying.’
‘Whatd’ya mean?’
‘I mean what’s left of us will be scattered far enough nobody’s gonna gather up the pieces anyway.’
‘I always sorta wanted to go out layin’ in a soft bed with my hands folded nice an’ peaceful across my chest.’
‘You want a flower in your hands too?’
‘A half pint o’ whiskey’d be better.’
‘Why? You couldn’t drink it then.’
‘Yeah, but it’d be nice to know I had it along, just in case.’
‘I always thought I’d rather have a box o’ bakin’ soda.’
Oz looked at his friend quizzically. ‘Bakin’ soda? What for.’
‘Bakin’ soda works pretty good for puttin’ out fires. I thought maybe a box of it might at least give me a little space.’
Oz snorted, then chuckled. ‘Maybe you’d best have your whole casket filled with it, then.’
‘Good idea. That’ll be your job, to make sure that’s done.’
‘The Indians do that.’
‘What, use bakin’ soda?’
‘No, not that. But they bury their dead with what they figger they might need in the next life. They bury ’em with a bow and arrows, or whatever. I heard of one, once, that they buried with his horse.’
‘If you get to take with you whatever’s buried with you, I’d rather have a woman.’
‘Someplace in Asia or somewhere they do that, too. They build a great big fire to burn up the dead guy’s body. His widow’s supposed to throw herself into the fire and burn up with him.’
‘What if she don’t wanta do that?’
‘Then somebody has to kill her and throw her into the fire. That way they figure he’ll have her for a wife in the next life.’
‘Really? I wonder if it works.’
‘Don’t guess anyone’s come back to let ’em know. I doubt it. It’d save havin’ to provide for the widow, though.’
‘I wonder if she’d think it was heaven, if she was still stuck with the same man.’
‘Not if he looked like you, she wouldn’t.’
‘I sorta noticed that you’re still batchin’ too.’
Oz abruptly brought the conversation back from its escapist banter. ‘What are we gonna do when we get there?’
Sam’s instant reply indicated the thought he had already given to the matter. ‘There’s a thick bunch of timber just over the ridge from where they’re buildin’ the dam. I figured we could hide the stuff there, then get the rest of the boys to come help.’
‘You gonna do it all in one night?’
‘Nope. I wanta get everything in place in one night. Then we’ll cover up our tracks, and wait till the right time.’
‘How you gonna keep ’em from noticin’?’
‘I’ll show you. I think I got it figured out.’
They rode mostly in silence the rest of the day. They talked little when they turned into their bedrolls for the night, and were up before daylight. They loaded the increasingly reluctant mules, grateful it would be the last day on the trail.
The sun was just dipping beyond the western mountains when they stopped in a finger of heavy timber. Although they knew they were just across the ridge from the growing earthen dam, they heard no activity. ‘You don’t s’pose they’re done, do you?’
‘I doubt it. Just knocked off for the day, I’d guess.’
‘Let’s have a look-see.’
Together they worked their way to the top of the ridge and looked over. The dam stretched clear across the narrow valley, more than thirty feet high in the center. The center had been filled in, so that the stream’s flow of water was halted. Sam’s jaw muscles bulged with the clenching of his teeth. Fire flashed from his eyes as he stared at the dry streambed below the dam.
Silently the pair descended the slope to the timber. ‘They’re still workin’ to make it higher,’ Oz observed. ‘The slips and stuff are all still there.’
Sam nodded. Gruffly he said, ‘Let’s get this stuff taken care of.’
They spread a tarpaulin on a flat spot of ground and stacked the cases of explosives on it. They covered it with tarpaulins and tied them securely enough to ensure even a violent thunderstorm would not allow them to get wet.
When they finished, they mounted their horses. Sam picked up the lead line for the mules. ‘Let’s get some shut-eye. We’ll see if we can have as many guys as possible here at sundown tomorrow.’
Silently they rode away into the gathering darkness. Sam wavered minute by minute between conflicting emotions: anger at the dam and its effects boiled within him; weariness nagged at his body; relief flooded through him that they had the dynamite transported safely. Excitement at the prospect of what lay ahead made him tingle with anticipation. Eclipsing all of it was thoughts of Kate, still not knowing he was back in the country. He ached to go to her, but his pride held him firmly in check.
He’d ride back to the H Bar V bunkhouse where he was staying and tomorrow he’d continue with the plan – he’d take care of Kate’s problems; he’d make sure she and Billy were secure and free from parasites seeking to steal her land and cattle. Then he’d ride back to the Indian Nation where he belonged.
The thought surged in the back of his mind that he should at least give her an opportunity to take back the things she had said. He fought the idea down instantly. That would be too much like begging, and he wouldn’t beg for the love of any woman. She had made herself perfectly clear – she never wanted to see him again. She ordered him off her place. That was that. His love for her wouldn’t allow him to leave her in jeopardy, but she would have her wish. She would never see him again.