‘They left most of the slips sittin’ right on top of the dam,’ Bart whispered.
‘You probably don’t need to whisper,’ Sam responded. ‘They’re all back at Russell’s by this time of night.’
‘Do you think he will even know what we have done before they come tomorrow to work some more?’
Sam grinned. ‘Oh, I ’spect they’ll know. Russell’s ranch is only a couple miles away. I do ’spect they’ll notice all right.’
‘So let’s get it done,’ Oz fretted.
Sam carefully removed the tarpaulin covering from the ends of the black-wicks. He drew his knife and cut a foot off the end of each.
‘What’re you doin’ that for?’ Oz querried.
‘Makin’ sure I’m down to fresh powder,’ Sam explained.
He thought for a minute, then said, ‘Instead of me lightin’ these one at a time, why don’t you each grab a fuse and get a match. We can light ’em together that way.’
‘That should give us plenty time to get to the top of the hill where we can watch,’ Eduardo opined.
Sam frowned. ‘We for sure ain’t gonna do that.’
The others looked at him with obvious surprise, mingled with disappointment. He realized suddenly they had all expected to watch the explosion.
‘When that thing goes, there’s gonna be rocks an’ dirt comin’ down like rain in a frog-drowner. We’re gonna be down there in the trees, hangin’ on to our horses for all we’re worth, not standin’ up on top like we’re watchin’ a circus.’
The wisdom of his words slowly crowded out their hopes of seeing the results of their work, and one by one they nodded their agreement.
Sam handed each of his three friends the end of a black-wick. Each fished a match from a vest pocket. When he saw they were ready, he said, ‘Let’s do it.’
He and Oz lifted a leg and swiped the match across the tightly stretched fabric of their pants, igniting their matches. Bart and Eduardo flicked the head of their matches with a thumb nail, evoking an equal response. Four matches flared beneath the ends of four lengths of black-wick, carefully cupped in hands that shielded the small flames from the breeze. Four wicks sputtered to life, the fire at their ends rapidly climbing through the grass toward the crest of the ridge.
As one, the five men grabbed the reins of their horses and raced for the bottom of the large basin, and the protection of the thick stand of trees. Well within the trees, each looped the reins of his horse around a tree, knotted them securely, then added the security of firmly grasping the jaw strap of his horse’s bridle.
They waited, scarcely daring to breathe. A minute passed, then two. They began to look at each other, wondering why nothing was happening. Another minute passed, then another. Four men stared hard at Sam, trying to read his expression. Sam stared straight ahead, ignoring them.
A fifth minute passed. Sam tensed and tightened his grip on his horse’s bridle. Seeing his slight action, the others did the same.
A muffled thump from the other side of the ridge threatened to overwhelm the waiting five, but they didn’t have time to even feel its threat. At the heels of that thump, a growing rumble erupted into the sky. It escalated to the loudest sound any of them had ever heard. It physically hurt their ears, shaking the ground beneath their feet. Horses’ ears flattened back against lifted heads. Nostrils flared. Five horses fought frantically to tear loose and flee.
A noise louder than any of them could ever have imagined roared upward from the earth, spewing dirt, rocks, abandoned equipment, and gravel half a mile into the air. The ground shook and trembled as if it would open up beneath them and swallow them whole.
‘Duck your heads,’ Sam yelled, stretching himself over the head of his panicked horse to shield its head as best he could.
The others did the same, but even so were stunned by the volume of dirt and rocks that rained down on them. It ripped branches from trees. It filled the air with dust and dirt, choking off their supply of air. They were all filled with the instant panic of being buried alive.
Then it was over. Dust swirled in the air, carried away by the night breeze. Four men swept off their hats, swatting the dirt from them against their leg, coughing the dirt from their airways.
‘Bart’s down,’ Oz noticed first.
The others instantly ran to him. Just as they reached him, he started to moan. ‘You OK, brother?’ Eduardo demanded.
Bart did not answer. He sat up slowly. His eyes slowly focused. He blinked rapidly. ‘What happened?’ he mumbled, scarcely intelligibly.
He struggled to his feet, slowly regaining his equilibrium. ‘I think you tried to see if your head was as hard as one of the rocks that was falling,’ Eduardo suggested. ‘If I am to guess, I think the rock is probably shattered into small gravel.’
‘Good to know it didn’t hit any part of him that he ever uses,’ Sam chimed in.
The rest vented their relief with similar barbs and jabs until Bart seemed to have recovered. Straightening his smashed hat, he placed it gingerly on his head. ‘Good thing I wasn’t bad hurt,’ he groused. ‘I could’ve laid here till spring waitin’ to get any sympathy from this outfit.’
‘Let’s go see what we did,’ Sam interrupted.
Suddenly remembering the purpose of their being there, the five trooped together up the hill. The ground was covered with several inches of dirt and rocks. The loose footing made the climb slow and laborious, but they reached the top together.
The waning of the full moon was more than adequate to illuminate the land. Nothing whatever remained of the accursed dam. For as far as they could see down the canyon, the ground was covered with two or three feet of dirt and debris. In the center, the newly formed reservoir had become a rushing, muddy torrent, pouring down the canyon, carrying with it the remaining dirt that had stemmed its flow.
‘You ’spect you used enough dynamite?’ the marshal asked.
‘Looks pretty good to me,’ Oz answered for his friend.
‘That’s a lot o’ water headin’ downstream,’ Bart fretted. ‘Don’t you reckon you’d oughta hightail it down to Kate’s place, to make sure they’re OK?’
Sam shot him a glance that said, ‘Nice try!’ but he didn’t bother to answer.
Instead Eduardo surprisingly shot down his brother’s effort. ‘It will spread out and slow down when it hits the flats,’ he reasoned. ‘From there it will run more slowly. It will not rise high enough to reach the house.’
Bart glared incredulously at his brother for a long moment. Finally he said, ‘Fine lot o’ help you are!’
Sam had neither the patience nor desire for their banter. ‘We’d best be headin’ back to get set up. You can bet Russell’s already got somebody headin’ over here on a dead run to find out what happened.’
They retreated to the battered copse where their horses still stirred nervously. Each of them examined his horse carefully, noting each bruise and bump, making sure their animals were not seriously injured from the falling dirt and rocks.
They mounted up and rode out, their horses’ hoof beats muffled by the thick dirt and dust that covered the earth. They rode for a good half mile before they got beyond it.
‘I sure wish you would’ve used a bit more dynamite,’ the marshal observed with a straight face. ‘We coulda spread that fine fresh dirt clear across Wyoming, instead o’ just half way.’
Sam was too preoccupied to bother answering.