Savage. Part 56

"What?" I whispered.

"Shhh." She pointed her gun at the ground a yard ahead of her.

I heard the snake before I saw it. A soft chh-chh-chh. chh-chh-chh. Silence. Another Silence. Another chh-chh-chh. chh-chh-chh. I spotted it. A rattler. So near the same speckled, dirty gray color as the rocks that it was the next thing to invisible. But there it was, as long as my arm, twisting its way across our path. I spotted it. A rattler. So near the same speckled, dirty gray color as the rocks that it was the next thing to invisible. But there it was, as long as my arm, twisting its way across our path.

General must've noticed it then. He gave out a startled snort and backed up. I gave the reins a tug. He stopped, and groaned in a manner that near sounded human.

Jesse thumbed back her hammer. The c.o.c.king sound was so loud it seemed almost to echo.

"Don't shoot," I whispered.

She held fire. A moment later, the snake vanished beneath a lip of rock.

We both kept our eyes on where it had gone, and hurried past it.

I said to Jesse's back. "Let's not shoot unless we're attacked."

"I don't aim to get snakebit to spare your ears."

"It's not my own ears that concern me. I don't like the notion of announcing our whereabouts."

"Then you best hope we don't meet up with no more rattlers."

I watched for more as we continued along. And I couldn't help but listen, too. Now that I knew the sound they made, I heard it here and there-off to one side or the other, behind us, in front of us, sometimes even above. It played on my nerves, particularly the notion of a snake dropping down on us from the rocks as we walked by.

It got to be almost more than I could stand. I switched the reins to my left hand and filled my right with iron. Much as I was loath to unsettle the dead quiet with gunfire, the good solid feel of the Colt was comforting. Jesse heard me c.o.c.k it. She looked over her shoulder at me and smiled.

"Don't shoot unless you're attacked," she said.

"They're everywhere everywhere," I whispered.

"Pretty near."

Everywhere, but out of sight. I heard them, but couldn't see them. That made it all seem worse, somehow.

Next thing you know, our way forward got blocked by a great boulder. The way to the left was shut off tight. Our only course was to make a turn to the right and pa.s.s through a gash in the rocks. It looked like a rough-walled corridor, twice our height and not much wider than our shoulders. It appeared to stretch on for about thirty feet before it opened up.

Jess turned away from it and studied General. "I reckon he'll fit," she said.

"I doubt the posse came this way."

"There's likely a pa.s.sel of better routes through this dang mess, but n.o.body gave us a map. Do you want to turn around and go back the way we came?"

I recalled all those rattlesnakes we'd left behind, and didn't care to give them a second go at us. So I answered Jesse with a shake of my head.

"Look sharp, now," she said. Raising her gun barrel as if she expected to be leaped on from above-by snake or by madman or by Lord knows what brand of creature-Jesse entered the narrow gap.

I went in after her, leading General and watching him over my shoulder. He seemed mighty reluctant to put himself into such tight quarters. He snorted and tossed his head. "Easy boy," I said. "Easy." He came on, but didn't appear at all happy about the matter.

The pa.s.sage was wide enough for General, but not by much. Our tube of water, draped across his back, rubbed against a wall and tore. Water went splas.h.i.+ng out of it.

"d.a.m.nation," I muttered.

"What?" Jesse asked.

"There goes our water."

She looked around at us and grimaced. The water was still pouring from the ruptured gut. But I had no way to get past General and stop the gusher, short of climbing over his head.

All me and Jesse could do was stand there. Pretty soon, the side of the tube that still held water dragged its way down between General and the rocks. It fell with a plop. I ducked and peered under General's legs. I could've crawled beneath him and fetched out the tube, but there wasn't any advantage to that. It was empty and flat.

"At least we've got some in the whiskey bottle," Jesse said.

"It won't last long."

"There'll be water at the cave."

"Will there be?"

"I don't reckon the posse come here without a pretty good supply."

I judged she was right about that.

"We'd better keep moving," she said. Turning away, she continued through the gap.

"Come along, fellow," I urged General, and gave a pull at the reins. He groaned at me. Sounded quite like a dog, as one might sound if you threatened to steal its bone. But he came along.

I kept my eyes on him, trusting Jesse to warn me of any trouble from the front. Our rifles still hung from General's sides by a rope across his back. And my saddlebags were up there. They seemed to be clear of the nearby walls, however, and in no great danger.

We were about halfway through the gash when General went daft. His eyes bugged out, his ears twitched forward, he squealed and reared. My arm near got wrenched off before I lost hold of the reins. I leaped forward to stay away from his kicking hooves. One knocked my hat off. I stumbled and fell. On his hind legs, General tried to twist himself around. For a while, he was stuck, his belly shoved against one rock wall while his rump was jammed into the other. He thrashed about awful. His front hooves clamored and threw off sparks. He screamed fierce. The rifles and saddlebags skidded down his back. As I got to my feet, hoping to help him somehow, he managed to tear himself loose. He fell, forelegs giving out, muzzle smacking the rocky ground. But he picked himself up right quick and scampered for freedom.

I gave chase, shouting. But General was in no mood to listen. He dashed out the way we'd come, and kept on running. Before you know it, he vanished around a bend. I quit racing after him. While I tried to catch my wind, the noise of his hoofbeats faded out.

"b.l.o.o.d.y nag," I muttered. I felt just about ready to cry. I kept it in, though, and headed on back into the gash.

At least General hadn't run off with our saddlebags and rifles. Jesse, crouching, opened one of the saddlebags. She pulled out our water bottle. It was half-empty, but unbroken.

"He's gone," I said.

"Must've been the snakes," she said. "I figured he'd kill himself sure." She returned the bottle to the saddlebag, and draped the leather pouches over one shoulder.

"We'd best go find him," I said.

Jesse shook her head. "Ain't much chance of catching him. Gonna be dark soon, and no telling where he's off to. He might not stop till he's off the mountain."

"I shouldn't like to lose him altogether," I said, my throat tight.

"I know." She looked rather miserable, herself. "He's a good old boy. We'll find him." She squatted by the rifles and commenced to pick at a knot. "What we'd best do right now, though, is try and hook up with that posse. We ain't got much water. We can go hunting for General come daylight." She got the knot undone, slipped the rope off the stock of my Winchester, and lifted the rifle up to me.

I took it. She made a sling out of the rope and hung the Henry down her back. Then she stood up and drew her revolver.

"I wish we'd never come up here," I said, picking up my hat. "We've lost our horse and most of our water. We're surrounded by rattlesnakes. We're lost. Whittle's likely lurking nearby. Or Apache Sam. Things have gone all to smash."

Jesse hoisted an eyebrow at me. "You should've stayed home in London, I reckon."

I saw her trap and dodged clear of it. "Not at all. I'm quite glad we're together, you know. I only wish we were together elsewhere."

"Well, Trev, you play the cards you're dealt. This ain't the best hand, but it's what we've got. Now, let's go and find us that posse."

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE.

Ghastly Business Night was near upon us when we came upon the posse. After losing General, we'd gone through the gash in the rocks, found ourselves in a clear area that gave us a view of the mountain peaks, headed that way, circled around some boulders and climbed a slope and squeezed through another tight gap.

We heard some rattlers along the way, but not many. Those we heard stayed out of sight.

As we came out the other side of the gap, we ran into the posse.

There were eight or nine men and about that many horses. They were spread about a clearing in front of the cave entrance.

Alive was one horse, tied to a stand of rocks off to one side.

Alive were also a fair number of buzzards, but they scattered when we showed up. Some perched themselves on rocks and others sailed around overhead, all of them likely hoping we'd leave so they could get back to their meals.

We stood motionless at the edge of the clearing.

"My G.o.d," Jesse whispered.

Mostly, I felt numb. But part of me stayed alert, and I scanned the area to make sure whoever'd done the ma.s.sacre wasn't in sight.

As one horse had been spared, I judged it likely belonged to the killer. So he was somewhere about. The horse, a pale palomino, was saddled. It glanced our way and took a few steps. When it moved, I heard its shoes on the rocky ground. So it was shod.

"Whittle," I whispered. "An Apache wouldn't have shoes on his horse."

"Unless he stole it off a white man," Jesse said.

I gazed at the carnage. The gloom of dusk wasn't dark enough to hide much of it.

"Whittle did this," I said.

I knew for sure, and it had to do with a sight more than the shod horse. The killer had done more than slay the men and horses. He'd mucked about with them.

He'd dismembered a good many of them. The head of a horse had been placed between the legs of a naked man, its mouth on his private parts. All the men were naked. Some had been disemboweled, their entrails strewn about. (The buzzards had likely played a role in that.) Two fellows had been stacked up and arranged in such a way as to suggest they were busy at an unnatural act. The heads of four had been removed and set atop various rocks. The privates had been cut off some of the bodies. The severed arm of one chap had been thrust up the hindquarters of a dead horse.

The clothing and weapons of the dead men were nowhere to be seen. Except for four boots. Those were on the feet of a dead horse.

The atrocities were unspeakably savage, but showed a vile sense of humor.

Only Whittle, I judged, could've committed such acts.

Was he inside the cave? Was he skulking about, sneaking toward us?"

"Let's take cover," I whispered.

Backing off, we ducked behind a low boulder and leaned forward against it. Jesse slipped the saddlebags off her shoulder. She slung the Henry off her back.

We both c.o.c.ked our rifles and rested them atop the rock, aiming toward the cave entrance.

"You were right about monsters," Jesse whispered.

"The man's a fiend," I said.

"But how'd he manage to kill them all all?"

"He's quite clever, really," I told her. "And they were here looking for an Indian. He likely tricked them somehow."

"Maybe he ain't alone."

"I don't know." I glanced behind us. Nothing back there except the maze of rocks. So I turned to Jesse and said, "Whittle by himself is enough to worry about. There's only one horse, though."

"If he don't know we're here, we can bushwhack him when he goes to ride off."

I gave Jesse a nod. She b.u.mped me gently with her shoulder.

Soon, night was upon us.

The dark was kind, actually, as it shrouded the scene of the ma.s.sacre. We could still see the dim shapes out there, but not all the ghastly particulars. The buzzards were nowhere in sight. Whittle's horse was a light enough color so we could keep our eyes on it. The mouth of the cave looked like a patch of black in the gray wall of the mountain.

I couldn't figure any way for Whittle to get from the cave to his horse without us spotting him.

The trick was simply to wait him out.

Then shoot him down.

"Keep your eyes open," Jesse whispered after a spell. She rested her rifle on the boulder, then crept backward. I glanced at her a couple of times to see what she was about. She pulled our bottle from the saddle bag and shook it. "Thirsty?" she asked.

"We haven't much left."

She popped the cork and took a few drinks. Holding the bottle out to me, she said, "Water's no problem. Did you see all the canteens and water bags on them nags out there?"

"They might be empty," I said, and took the bottle.

"They ain't empty, Trevor." She sounded a bit annoyed. "Landsakes, but you worry."