Rawley had had enough.
His nerves were ripped to shreds, as battered and torn as his little army. He saw the chance of his getting his gold into New Mexico growing less and less. He looked for a way out and he thought he found it. The answer to his question was obvious. He was being slowed by the men on foot. So he made his decision.
He sought out Rich. In spite of the hardships he had undergone, the gunman was looking pretty fit. His wound was healing nicely, the result of a tough animal body.
‘Rich,’ he said, ‘this ain’t gettin’ us nowhere.’
Rich didn’t have to be told what was in his mind, because his own worked in the same way. He had been nurtured on treachery.
‘So we light out,’ he said.
Rawley nodded.
‘You’n’me an’ a couple of the others. We take horses and the bulk of the gold. We’ll leave a couple of pack-animals and some gold with the others. We want a light train an’ speed.’
‘Do we need the others?’ Rich said. Greed had always been Rich’s trouble.
‘Sure we need ’em,’ Rawley told him. ‘For a while. When we’re over into New Mexico, maybe we won’t need ’em so much. But that comes later. Meanwhile, we have to get outta these hills.’
‘Take Carlos,’ Rich suggested.
‘And Rico.’
‘He’s hurt.’
‘But he’s good. Just havin’ him with us’ll make the rest back down.’
‘You could be right.’
Rawley started organizing. He found Carlos and Rico and told them to take up their positions with Rich. Then he started bawling to the men to get the pack-animals loaded. They did as they were bidden, but their minds weren’t on the job. Most of their attention was on the country around them; they expected men to be cut down again. In the night a man had died and two more had been injured. They were scared and it showed. But they finally got the packs on the mules and horses. They were puzzled and suspicious when they were ordered to saddle four horses. One of them came to Rawley and demanded to know the reason. Rawley explained that they had more wounded now. Some of the gold would have to be left so that the wounded could ride. That seemed to satisfy them. They saddled the horses and got the train lined out for moving.
Rawley got himself up on a high rock from which he could see everybody and then he told them.
‘There’s four rifles lookin’ at you, boys. Anybody doesn’t throw down his guns right now gets his head blown off.’
They looked at him in a dazed kind of a way as if this was the last straw. They had taken all they could handle and this finished them. Nobody showed any sign of resistance. They dropped their weapons and Carlos collected them, piling them in the rocks. Rawley gave the order for two of the pack-horses loaded with gold to be cut out from the rest.
‘That’s your share of the gold, boys,’ he told them.
They didn’t say anything. They watched him from dead eyes and the wounded looked as if they had come to the end of the trail. They would never get out of this now. As soon as Rawley had gone from sight, their comrades would desert them with the gold. They were as good as dead men. But they didn’t speak. They knew that it would be a waste of words with a man like Rawley. He was harder than all the hard cases there.
The four men, Rawley, Carlos, Rich and Rico mounted. Rawley took the head of the train and led the way out. Carlos and Rico stayed behind to make sure that none of those left dove for their weapons and took their revenge. They stayed till the sound of the train, which was going away at a great rate, died. They then whirled their horses and rode after it.
When they were gone from sight the men stayed still for a moment, stunned by this terrible turn of fate.
‘What the hell do we do now?’ one asked hopelessly.
Another said: ‘We got two packs of gold and our feet. Let’s get goin’.’
They headed for the rocks where their rifles were piled. They moved like men in a trance.
They never reached their rifles.
As they went into the rocks, the first man stopped, his eyes wide with terror. Between him and the weapons stood an Indian. In his hands was a repeating rifle. They all stopped and nobody said anything. There wasn’t anything to say. There came the sound of a gun cocking to their right and they turned their heads. Three Indians stood there and they also held repeating rifles.
Rawley’s men knew that they were as good as dead and they were right.
The lone Indian, holding his rifle hip high fired once and hit the first man in the chest. He was blasted back into his comrades arms. One of them, going berserk, drew his knife and charged the Indian, screaming. The Indian brought the butt of the rifle up sharply and caught him under the chin with the butt. He somersaulted backwards with his jaw broken. No sooner had he hit the ground than a bullet ploughed into him. The other Indians started shooting now with a cool deliberation that made it look like a terrible game. The wounded men who were back with the animals tried to crawl away into the rocks, but the Indians, laughing now, followed them, putting their rifle muzzles to their heads and pulling the trigger. Within a matter of minutes, it was all over.
Gato looked around at the carnage and said: ‘Good.’