Rawley watched the dawn come up and he felt a little sick. He was badly shaken and it wasn’t a thing that had happened to him often. Too much that he couldn’t swallow had happened in the last few hours. Now the story of his mine would be out all over the country. Even taking his gold into New Mexico could now be dangerous, but that was what he intended to do. But his plans were awry, apparently through the work of one man, for he was convinced that there had been no more than one here during the night. He was shaken with almost uncontrollable fury, but he knew that he must get a grip on himself. He must think clearly, but to do that, he needed a drink and his store had gone up in flames when his cabin burned.
So here he was stuck out in the open, sitting by the crushing mill, the useless crushing mill that madman had put out of action the night before, watching his men preparing for the trail. He watched them closely and with suspicion, knowing that the night’s events had affected them. He hadn’t trusted any of them at the start and he did so even less now. The kind of work he had needed them for demanded that they should be what they undoubtedly were, the scourings of the saloons and the back-trails.
There were a half-dozen prisoners left, still in their chains, helping the guards in their preparations. They would be dead before the sun set. In the fight in the dark last night several of them had died or had been wounded and put out of their misery. The men had showed their caliber in doing the job. Hardly one of them had shown distaste at the killings. Rawley had needed such men here and he would need them through the mountains to get past the Apache and maybe the renegades in the New Mexico hills. But after that they would only be in the way, they would merely make his share of the loot smaller. He would have to watch for his chances. So much blood had been spilled so far, there was no sense in holding back from another death or two. He liked thoroughness.
He had planned carefully for this move and the night raid had only made the plans more difficult to carry out, not impossible. He had stored ammunition for the trip through the mountains and much of it had gone up in the fire last night. But he reckoned he had enough to see him through the hills. His own wounded worried him. Three men had been hurt badly and they would prove encumbrances. Sure, they could be killed, but the men who would kill prisoners without compunction would feel differently about killing their own kind. Each man would think that if it could happen to another man it could happen to him. And Rawley couldn’t afford for doubt about his reliability to set in. These men had faith in him because from the start he had looked after them. It had been a sound investment.
He turned his head and looked at Rich, lying in the shade of the crushing mill. He lay awkwardly on one side because the wound was in his back. The girl had done that and there was a source of anguish for Rawley. He had scarcely known Carlita, but she had made a deep impression on him. He would have been willing to take her to New Mexico with him. There would be other women, as many as he wanted now that he was a wealthy man, but she had somehow gotten into his blood. He brooded over her angrily as he watched his men and the prisoners preparing the packs. The sun rose rapidly and the morning grew hot. He drank from his canteen and felt himself slowly start to sweat. He wondered how long it would be before the country was up in arms against him. McAllister and that Sam Spur were both men who wouldn’t take this kind of thing sitting down. They would warn the authorities. If word got to the territorial governor, he would take action at once. Maybe even the army would move in. He had to be out of here fast to disappear into the sierras. Maybe he would hole up there for a while until this blew over. Maybe he’d think about that. For the first time the true enormity of what he had done came home to him. Maybe it would be wiser to head for old Mexico and stay south of the Border for a year or two. But that would mean coming out onto the open plain and he could be spotted there. No, these hills were the ones for him – but Gato was here and he had a healthy fear of the Apache.
An idea came to him. He rose to his feet and walked across to a small Mexican guarding the prisoners. He was dirty, unshaven and carried an arsenal of weapons.
‘Pepe.’
‘Si, jefe.’
In his cow-pen Spanish, Rawley told him: ‘You will go quickly to the town and find out what the people there have learned about us. You will be careful that no escaped prisoners see you. You will come back to me here as fast as you can. If you do not, we shall be gone. You understand?’
The man touched the wide brim of his sombrero with a hand. ‘I understand.’ He walked away to the corral at the far side of the basin and saddled his horse. A short while after he rode out, slowly climbing the steep and narrow trail.
Rawley paced here and there, checking the loads. The preparations went on till noon. Rawley assigned the packs to certain animals, reserved some of the mules for ammunition and supplies generally. He didn’t want any animal overladen. If he was going to get across the sierra and to his destination, he had to look after the stock. He ordered the water-containers filled, checked that each man carried sufficient ammunition and was well-armed. Some rifles had been lost in the fire, but there were enough to go around. Rawley was satisfied. Some of his anger had gone as he busied himself. He could have done with a stiff drink, but he reckoned he’d have to get by without it. What he would like before he left was to get his hands on the man who had hit the camp last night. But that would be a luxury, not an essential. All he was really concerned with was getting the gold out.
‘We’ll go now,’ he told Carlos.
The man protested – ‘You mean you’ll travel in the dark.’
‘We have a few hours of daylight left. We’ll use them. I know a good spot to camp in for the night. Get the prisoners into the tunnel. You know what to do. Then blow the tunnel in.’
The man nodded and walked shouting toward the prisoners. The guards started to herd them toward the tunnel. If they knew what was to happen to them, they gave no sign. Rawley built a cigaret and stood listening. After a while he heard several rifle shots sounding dull and distant in the tunnel. Then the guards walked out into the sunlight. They stood around smoking, waiting for somebody in the tunnel to set the charges. A half-hour later, a man walked out and shouted so that the guards scattered. After a short interval there came the boom-boom of the explosion. Dust wafted out into the basin and the blast almost took Rawley from his feet. The dust started to settle and he shouted for the men to load up. They grumbled because they hadn’t thought to make the prisoners do it before they killed them.
Pretty soon, the animals were loaded and the men were mounting up. A warm glow of satisfaction went through Rawley. All he had to do now was to get through the mountains. With the small well-armed little force he had under his command that shouldn’t be too difficult. He sat his fine sorrel horse in the center of the basin and watched the long line of laden mules and horses and their flanking riders go past him headed for the narrow trail that would lead them to a new life in the east.
He heard a clatter of stones to the south and, turning his head, saw a horseman on the southern rim of the basin. It was Pepe who waved. Rawley waved back and the Mexican rode along the edge of the basin to the western path. The first rider of the pack-train dismounted at the foot of the eastern path and slowly started to lead his horse up. Pepe started down the western slope. In a few minutes he was beside Rawley.
‘What did you learn?’
‘None of the escaped men have reached town yet.’
‘Good.’
‘But I passed some on their way. They were on foot. I did not harm them in any way, though I was tempted.’
Rawley nodded. He would have a fair start. He began to feel quite cheerful, almost gay. He raised his eyes to the train going slowly up the narrow trail. There went his future and his fortune. Pepe moved off in the direction of the moving animals.
When he thought about this moment later, Rawley remembered that there was a curious pause in time. No doubt this was a trick of his mind, but that was the way it seemed. There was a puff of smoke on the rimrock immediately above the trail. Moments later, it seemed, there came the crack of a rifle.
As the sound reached him, Rawley saw the foremost of his men lunge out from the trail into mid-air, all arms and legs. His horse, unnerved, fought to hold its footing, then it too went over the edge of the narrow path and plunged onto the rocks below. He heard both hit with a sound that was sickening.
For what seemed a long time, neither men nor beasts on the trail knew what to do. Every man’s instinct was to try and turn back, but there was no way of turning on the narrow way. The leading mules went ahead, slowly climbing.
There came another shot from above and another. Several of his men were scrambling down from the trail to hide among the rocks. A few got to work with their rifles and were firing at the marksman at the head of the trail.
Rawley was shouting now, yelling for Pepe. The man whirled his horse and came galloping back to him.
‘Cut around from the north and get that feller off the head of the trail. Pronto. Move yourself, man.’
Pepe didn’t need any second bidding. He spurred away and hit the western trail, going up it at a reckless pace. Rawley considered for a moment and thought he could do no good down here in the basin and spurred after the Mexican. He went up the trail fast as though unafraid of his horse missing its footing, hit the rimrock and turned north, racing along the rim of the basin as fast as he could quirt and spur the game horse. Within moments, he had caught up with Pepe and they pounded without thought of danger for the spot where the rifleman was hidden. But as they came up, all was silence. They dropped out of the saddle on the run and rushed the head of the trail with their rifles held ready, but when they reached there all they found was some empty cartridge cases.
Rawley cursed insanely for a full minute. Pepe stood mutely, watching him. Finally, Rawley got a grip on himself and looked down below. The lead mules had nearly reached the top of the trail. He bawled down for the men to come on up.
He walked back to his horse and mounted, cursing himself for not having had the foresight, after what happened last night, to put a guard at the head of the trail. He faced the possibilities squarely and quickly. He had never been one to hide from facts. The man who had gotten into the basin last night, was still on the rampage and his aim was not just to release prisoners. He was out to hurt him, Rawley. Well, Rawley would show him that two could play at that game. He would have the bastard’s guts and he would hang ’em out in the sun to dry.
He yelled for the ’breed and when he came loping up, he told him to make sure there had been no more than one man doing the shooting. But the man couldn’t make anything out for the pack-train had walked over the spot and ruined the sign.
‘Circle,’ Rawley told him. ‘Find out all you can. He must have tied a horse up somewhere.’
The man looked a little scared. He didn’t want to nose around in the hills too far from his fellows. There was real danger here, not only from the man who had done the shooting but from the Indians. But he was afraid of Rawley also and the sheriff was the nearer. He sloped off into the rocks looking for sign.
When all the animals and men were up, Rawley spoke to the men. He took a good look at them, assessing the amount of scare they’d had. They looked wary and they kept their eyes on the surrounding rocks when he spoke to them, but they weren’t in a funk. That pleased him. He had picked them for their toughness and he was satisfied that they were tough enough for what lay ahead of them.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘that’s twice we’ve been jumped. An’ maybe it’s my fault it happened. It’s showed me one thing – whoever done it will try it again. They’re after the gold. They’re out to hurt us. An’ they’ll try it again. Bank on it. My guess is, they’ll try tonight. Then we’ll have ’em. I promise you that.’
They made no comment. They turned their hard cold eyes on him and seemed to be assessing him in their turn, testing his nerve and telling him also that they themselves were a danger through their very nature. As he turned away and mounted his horse, he saw clearly what he must do if he were to get through the mountains whole with his gold. First, he had to catch whoever was gunning for him. Second, he had to think of something to make a tough few of his men loyal to him against the others. Carlos and Pepe were his men. Rich was another matter. He had earned the man’s loyalty by bringing him along now, but he was hurt bad and, for some days at least, he would be useless if it ever came to a show down. Rawley sat his horse, watching the train go slowly by him, trying to think of every eventuality. Rich passed him without lifting his eyes, riding in pain, hunched over his saddlebow. Fifteen hard men rode by, three of them wounded. They were all a little shaken by the death of the man back there in the rocks, but when Rawley had caught the man who had done it, they would feel better. Rawley clattered after them.