Stepsons of Light Part 12

He reversed his pencil and erased the names of his fict.i.tious witnesses; he saddled his horse and rode to intercept the three hors.e.m.e.n, half a mile away now, trailing slowly across the park toward MacCleod's Tanks. He waved them to stop. As he drew near he knew two of the men--Jody Weir, of Hillsboro, and Big Ed Caney, a deputy sheriff from Dona Ana County; two men he trusted not at all. Time was he would have deemed this conjunction sinister; to-day, madness was upon him. The third was a stranger. Each man had a blanket and a bulging slicker tied behind his saddle. Evidently they carried rations for several days' camping.

"h.e.l.lo, Adam!"

"You're another--three of 'em. Got any water in those canteens? If I was to do a piece of wis.h.i.+n', right now, I'd mention water first off.

This is sure one old scorcher of a day! She's a weather breeder. Rain before morning, sure as snakes. I see thunder-heads peeping up over the Black Range, right now."

Caney handed over a canteen. "Drink hearty! You sh.o.r.e look like you'd been working, Adam."

Adam drank deep before replying.

"Working is right. Prospecting. Tired of farming--need a change. Say, I want you fellows to witness some location notices for me. Ride over on the next ridge and I can point out where the claims lay so you can swear to 'em--or ride over with me if you got time. I was just doing a little forgery when I saw your dust, for I wasn't expectin' to see a man up this way--not ever. I do reckon this is the lonesomest place in the world."

"Adam, meet my friend," said Jody. "Mr. Forbes, Mr. Hales. Now, Adam, no need for us to go over to your layout, is there? We can see your silly monuments. That's enough. No particular odds anyway, is it? I reckon half the notices on record have ghost signatures to 'em. Just as good as any. n.o.body'll ever know the difference."

"Sure, that's all right--but seein' you happened along so slick, I thought I'd get your John Hanc.o.c.ks. Sign on the dotted line, please--where I rubbed out my forgeries."

"Any good, your mines?" asked Jody as they signed.

"Might be--will be, likely enough. Just struck pay dirt to-day. Lots of room if you want to try a whirl--all round my claims, any direction except down."

"Not to-day, I guess. Say, Forbes--you ain't seen any strangers this way, have you? Mexicans, mebbe?"

"Not any. But I just come up from the river. Hills might be full of people, for all I know. Water all round, after these rains."

"Look, now," said Jody. "We're doin' a little man hunt--and if you're hangin' round here prospectin', you may be able to give us a straight tip. Keep your eye peeled. There'll be a piece of money in it for you if you can help us out."

"Give it a name. But see here, Caney--this isn't Dona Ana County, you know. You're over the line."

"I'm not doing this official," said Caney. "Neither is Hales, here, though he is a deputy in Socorro County. We're private cits in this man's county--playin' a hunch. Here's the lay: There's been a heap of stealing saddles for a business lately--saddles and other truck, but saddles, wholesale, most particular. Got so it wasn't safe for a man to leave a saddle on a horse at night, down round Las Cruces."

"They got Bill McCall's saddle in Mesilla three months ago," broke in Jody, laughing. "So Bill, he went and broke a bronc backward. Yes, sir! Broke him to be saddled and mounted from the wrong side. Only left-handed horse in the world, I reckon. Then Bill slips off down to Mesilla, ties his horse in front of Isham Holt's house about dark, and filters inside to jolly Miss Valeria. Pretty soon Bill heard a tur'ble row outside, and when he went out he found a Mex boy rollin' round in the street and a-holdin' both hands to his belly. Claimed he had the cramps, he did--but that's why we're rather looking for Mexicans."

"We figured they were a regular gang, scattered up and down, hurrying the stuff along by relays, and likely taking it down in old Mexico to dispose of," said Caney. "Then we hear that saddles are being missed up in Socorro County too. So Hales and me gets our wise heads together. Here is our hugeous hunch: This is lonesome country here, the big roads dodge the river from San Marcial to Rincon, 'count of it being so rough, so thieves wouldn't go by the Jornada nor yet take the big west-side roads through Palomas or Hillsboro. No, sir. They just about follow the other side of the river, where n.o.body lives, as far down as Engle Ferry. There or thereabouts they cross over, climb up Mescal Canon and ooze out through the rough country east of Caballo Mountain. Then they either come through by MacCleod's and cross the river here again, or they keep on down below Rincon to Barela Bosque.

Maybe they save up till they get a wagonload of saddles, cover them up with a tarp or maybe some farm truck, and drive whistlin' down the big road to El Paso."

"Anyhow," said Hales, "the Cattle a.s.sociation has offered an even thousand for information leading to conviction, and we're going to watch the pa.s.ses and water holes--here and at Hadley Spring and Palomas Gap. If you help get the thousand, you help spend it. That's right, ain't it, boys?"

The others nodded.

"Go with you, you mean?"

"No. You stay here--so long as you're here anyway--while we ride up the line. That way, one of us can go on and watch Mescal. We was one man shy before," said Caney. "Does it go?"

"It goes."

"Take your silly location papers then, and we'll ride. We're going across to have a look for tracks in Deadman first." He jerked his chin toward a notch in the hills, halfway between the head of Apache Canon and the head of Redgate. "Then we'll go up by MacCleod's Tank and on through to the Jornada and up the east side of Timber Mountain."

"Me, I reckon I'll post my notice and then go mail the copies to the recorder's office," said Adam. "Thank'ee, gentlemen. _Adios!_"

Jody Weir pulled up his horse behind the first hill.

"Fellers, that man has made a strike! Didya see his face--all sweat and dust? Adam Forbes is not the man to rustle like that in this broiling sun unless he was worked up about something. He didn't act natural, nohow. He drawls his talk along, as a usual thing--but to-day he spoke up real crisp and peart. I tell you now, Forbes has found the stuff!"

"I noticed he didn't seem noways keen for us to go help post his papers," said Caney.

"Humph! I began noticin' before that," said Toad Hales. "Us signing as witnesses--that got my eye. Usually it makes no never minds about a witness to a mining claim. They sign up John Smith, Robinson Crusoe or Jesse James, and let it go at that. Mighty strict and law-abiding all of a sudden, he was! And going to record his papers the day of discovery--when he has ninety days for it? It's got all the earmarks of a regular old he-strike! I move we take rounders on him and go look-see."

"Cowboy--you done said something."

They slipped back furtively, making a detour, riding swiftly under cover of s.h.i.+elding hills; they peeped over a hill crest beyond Adam's claims just in time to see him riding slowly away in the direction of Redgate.

"Gone to mail his notices to Hillsboro!" snarled Jody. "Some hurry!

Come on, you--let's look into this."

They found pick and pan, stacked with the empty water kegs by the location monument of the Goblin Gold; they sc.r.a.ped up a small pan of dirt from one of the shallow holes of Adam's making; they poured in water from their canteens; Caney did the was.h.i.+ng. He poured off the lighter dirt, he picked out the pebbles, he shook the residue with a gentle oscillating movement; he poured the muddy water cautiously, he shook the pan again.

"Sufferin' tomcats!" yelled Hales. "Gold as big as wheat!"

Caney's face went whitey-green; he completed the was.h.i.+ng with a last dexterous flirt and set down the pan with trembling hands.

"Look at that!"

Jody's eyes were popping from his head. "A pocket! Even if it plays out in a day--a day's work would make us rich for life!"

"Us--h.e.l.l!" said Caney. "We get the crumbs and leavings. Adam Forbes knows what he's about. He's got the cream. Outside of his claims the whole d.a.m.n mountain won't be worth h.e.l.l room!"

Jody turned his eyes slowly toward Redgate. "If we'd only known we might have horned in. Three of us--why, sooner than lose it all and get himself killed to boot, we might have split this fifty-fifty."

"We'll split this thirty-thirty!" Caney sprang to his feet. "Have you got the guts for it? Jody, this is your country--can we head him off?"

"If he goes round by the head of Redgate Canon--and if we don't stay here talking--we can cut across through Deadman. There's a pa.s.s where Deadman and Redgate bend close together. It won't be a long shot--two hundred yards."

"Three shots! Come on!" Hales swung on his horse. "We've all got our rifles. Three shots! Come on!" He jabbed the spurs home.

It was not until they had pa.s.sed the park that the others overtook Hales.

"Here, you, Hales--don't kill your horse!" said Jody Weir. "If he beats us to the pa.s.s we're not done yet. He'll come back to-night. He said so."

"You cussed fool! If he once gets those location notices in the mail we might as well let him go. We couldn't take the chances and get by with it."

"That's just it," said Jody. "Hi! Caney! Ride up alongside. Slow up, Hales! Listen, both of you. Even if he gets those papers in the mail, the recorder need never see them. All I have to do is to say the word.

I'm on the inside--sure and safe."

"Sure?"

"Sure and safe. If he beats us to the gap and comes back--well, you stop Adam's mouth and I'll be responsible for the papers. They'll never be recorded in this world!"