“Who ever told you that?” Barney asked.
“Why, they’re all either killed off or cooped up on reservations.”
“I understand that Geronimo and his band are prisoners in Florida,” I put in.
“That don’t mean there ain’t renegades skulking about. One’s been raiding these parts fairly regular. They figure it’s Apache Sam, a Chiricahua that run off from the San Carlos reservation a while back. He’s killed a heap of white folks, past couple of months. Creeps up on ‘em in the night, murders whatever feller might be about and carries off the women. Does such manner of butchery on the women as would curl your hair.”
When I heard that, my heart commenced to pound like thunder. “Are they quite sure it’s an Apache?” I asked.
“Ain’t no white man with the stomach for such doings.”
“He’s been seen, though?”
“Not by any folks as lived to tell the tale. They found his hideout, though. Got himself a cave no more than a day’s ride from here. Heard all about it from a feller this morning. Seems a week ago, maybe longer, a prospector tumbled onto the cave. Had himself a stroll inside, and what he found was dead women. Eight or ten of ‘em, all carved to pieces and moldering. Some was fresher than others, and one appeared as how she’d only got killed just the day before. That prospector, he figured it had to be the work of Apache Sam. So he made tracks to Tucson. They got up a posse, and he showed ‘em back to that-there cave. The feller I met, he’d been with the posse. Went in that cave with the rest, and what he saw near unhinged his mind. He couldn’t take no more, and lit out. When I seen him, he was still a mite green.”
“And it was just this morning that you spoke with him?” I asked.
“A shade before noon, I reckon.”
“And when did he leave the posse behind?”
“Oh, not long after sunup. The way he told it, the posse got to the cave after dark last night. Didn’t go in, though. Figured to keep an eye on it and wait till morning. See, they had no idea if the redskin was in there. Hoped he might show up so they could take a crack at him, and save themselves the bother of searching for him in the cave. Well, he didn’t do them the favor. So they went sneaking in at first light. The feller I met, he took one look at them gals and vamoosed. He allowed as how they was the worst sight that ever met his eyes, and the stink would’ve choked a maggot.”
“And did they find the Indian?” I asked.
“If he was there, he was keeping outa sight. What I hear, though, it’s a ripsnorter of a cave. The kind of place where a body might lose himself forever, pretty near. Now I just don’t know if they aim to have a try at hunting him out.”
“Do you suppose the posse’s still there?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me none. I was them, I wouldn’t go and waste my time. They won’t never find him if he’s in there. Injuns are that way, you know. Slippery boogers. If he’s got a mind to, he could likely pick ‘em off one at a time, they go hunting him in a cave. Best thing’d be to hide around outside and see if he don’t put in an appearance, sooner or later. That’s how I’d work it. But then, I ain’t the reckless sort. You put a bunch of fellers together like in a posse, they can get mighty brave. Start to figuring it’s the other guy’ll catch what-for, not their own selves. Sides, don’t none of them wanta look yeller front of their pals. So they’ll do the dangdest things. I reckon they’ll hunt all over that cave till they either run short of supplies or get themselves whittled down to nothing.”
“You say the cave’s only one day’s ride from here?”
It wasn’t me who asked that. It was Jesse.
I looked at her. She looked me back, and one of her eyebrows gave a little upward jump.
“A mite close for comfort, huh?” Barney said.
“Sure is,” she told him. “Whereabouts is it, so we’ll know to keep clear?”
“Up on the north slope of Dogtooth Mountain. That’s what the feller told me. Where you folks heading off to?”
“Tucson,” I said.
“Well, I’ll give you a steer so you stay clear of Dogtooth, then. Up yonder about a mile, you’ll hit a fork in the trail. Either way you go at the fork, you’ll get to Tucson by and by. You wanta take the branch that veers off to your right, though. Stick to that one, and you’ll miss Dogtooth by more’n ten miles. Take the other—that’s the one I rode in on—and it’ll lead you through a pass at the very foot of that-there mountain.”
“So we go right at the fork,” Jesse said, nodding.
“That’d be the safe way. Not as you can count on a few miles of distance to keep you safe from that Apache. Ain’t no saying where he might be. That cave’s only just a place he’s been at from time to time. And fairly recent. You ask me, though, he don’t live there. Don’t live nowhere particular. Just stays on the move. He could be a hundred miles off, right now. Or he might be near enough to hear us talk.”
“I sure hope not,” Jesse said.
“Well, I reckon he’d best watch himself, he’s creeping up on us. You’d likely bite his ear off.” Barney laughed.
“I’ve had my fill of ears,” Jesse told him, and he laughed harder.
After that, we stayed by the fire and talked about this and that for a spell. There was no more talk, though, of such matters as Apache Sam or the posse or cave. By and by, Barney asked if we’d mind him keeping us company till morning. “Safer all around,” he said.
“You’re welcome to stay,” Jesse told him. “Long as you behave.”
I had no objections, either. He seemed a fine, trustworthy chap. Besides, my mind was too troubled by what we’d heard about Apache Sam to be bothered by Barney’s presence.
He spread his bedroll on the other side of the fire. Jesse and I stretched out beside each other. What with him right there, neither of us was eager to snuggle up in our usual manner.
“You ain’t got yourselves no blankets?” he asked.
“We lost them in a flood some time ago,” I explained.
“Well, you’re welcome to make use of my saddle blanket if you can stand the aroma.”
So he fetched it. We thanked him and spread it over us.
Still, we didn’t snuggle up. Not for a while. When we heard Barney snoring, though, we rolled toward each other and hugged.
“You reckon it’s him?” Jesse whispered.
“Who?”
“Who you think? Whittle. You reckon he’s Apache Sam?”
“It shouldn’t surprise me at all, actually.”
“Same here. You wanta be in on it, don’t you?”
“If he’s there, I reckon the posse’ll get him.”
“Not if they’re looking for a redskin. We gotta go on up to Dogtooth and set ‘em right. If we don’t and he gets clear, it’ll be our own faults.”
“I suppose that’s so,” I whispered. Then I yawned and shut my eyes. “We’ll see about it in the morning,” I murmured.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Off to Dogtooth
Much as I wanted to join up with the posse and be in on the kill (if Whittle was holed up in the cave), I sure didn’t want Jesse to be anywhere near that place.
She would wind up carved and dead, I was just sure of it.
Yet no amount of talking was likely to persuade her against heading for Dogtooth Mountain, come daybreak.
While I laid there beside her under Barney’s blanket, feigning sleep and working my head over the matter, I hit upon a plan.
What I’d do is keep still for a while. Wait for Jesse to be fast asleep. Then I’d sneak away, walk General off a distance, mount up and race off. Jesse wouldn’t catch on till morning that I’d lit out. By then, I’d already be at the mountain or pretty near it.
A dirty trick to run off on her that way, but it’d keep her out of Whittle’s range.
What might she do, however, once she figured out that I’d dodged off without her? She’d be spitting mad, of course. But would she take off after me on foot? Or would she talk Barney into giving her
a ride? They might both come after me. I’d have a great headstart on them, but they might show up at the cave too soon, anyhow. Of course, Barney might want no part of pursuing me. If that happened, would Jesse have a go at stealing his horse? Just no telling what she might do.
It crossed my mind that I could take Barney’s horse, Joey, along with me. Or just chase it off. That’d be too lowdown, though, and likely to start a whole new passel of troubles.
I would leave Barney’s horse right where it was.
I no sooner settled that in my head than I took to worrying about Barney himself. How did I know that he could be trusted? With me gone, he might decide to have himself a good time with Jesse. She would likely kill or maim him if he tried such a thing, but what if he took her by surprise? She was tough, but not invincible. The German had proven that.
Well, I finally came to the conclusion that leaving Jesse behind wouldn’t be a clever move.
We’ll just steer clear of Dogtooth Mountain tomorrow, I decided. No matter how Jesse argues, I’ll stand firm. That posse can have its go at Whittle without us.
Might not be Whittle anyhow.
Now that I’d decided the proper way to handle the matter, my mind eased off and let me relax. By and by, I fell asleep.
I woke at sunup and Jesse was gone.
At first, I figured she’d wandered off to scare up some firewood or maybe answer a call of nature.
Sitting up, I had a look at Barney. He was still busy snoring. A horse gave a snort, and I swung my eyes over to where we’d left Joey and General tied to some cactus.
Joey was still there.
Alone.
Well, I jumped to my feet, all of a sudden scared. Looking about, I saw my Remington propped against the rock where it belonged. The Henry rifle wasn’t there. And one of the water tubes had gone missing too. I scanned off into the distance, all around, but didn’t spot Jesse or General.
I called out anyhow.
My yell startled Barney awake. He bolted up, gun in hand. “What the tar!”
“Jesse lit out for the cave! Blast her!”
He scrunched his leathery face, looking as puzzled as if I’d spoken in a foreign tongue.
“She took my horse and snuck off in the night.”
“What’s that you said about the cave?”
“It’s where she’s going! Bloody…!”
“Why in the notion’d she wanta go there?”
“Because she figured I’d keep her away from it.”
Still scowling, Barney used the muzzle of his Colt to scratch himself above the ear. “What’s she want at the cave?”
“It’s just her way of making sure I wouldn’t go there without her. Or not go there at all.”
“You gone and left me behind, Trevor.”
“I need to borrow your horse.”
“No you don’t.” He spoke calmly. He eased the muzzle away from his head and pointed it in my direction.
“I’ll pay you for him. I’ve got quite a good deal of money.”
“Ain’t got much use for your money. But I got a heapa use for Joey.”
“It’s your fault, you know. All your talk of Apache Sam. Why, you even told her where to go!”
Barney still looked mighty perplexed. But he looked wary, too, and kept his revolver ready in case I should have a go at him or Joey. “You trying to say she’s rode off to join the hunt for that danged Apache?”
“Exactly!”
“What is she, touched?”
“We’ve got to stop her.”
Barney shook his head. Then he stood up, jammed the huge hat down atop his head, and holstered his six-gun. “This is what comes,” he said, “of taking up with women. If it ain’t one brand of trouble, it’s another.”
I rode along behind Barney and his bedroll, sitting astride his saddlebags and other gear. I carried my own saddlebags across my thighs. The Winchester was slung across my back by a rope. Barney kept his horse at a trot that bounced me about considerable.
“I sure am obliged to you,” I said after a spell.
“Don’t go and thank me till I’ve gotten you to Jesse.”
“I’ll be most happy to pay you for your troubles.”
“No call to part with your money.”
“I’d like to do something for you.”
“Well, now. I’m a feller that enjoys a good story. Suppose you tell me why she’s so all-fired eager to go chasing after Apache Sam?”
“It’s not Apache Sam she’s after. When you told us last night about the bodies being found in the cave, we both realized the culprit was likely not this Apache at all, but Jack the Ripper. I came out west intending to hunt him down and kill him. He’s the bloke whose nose I cut off.”
“Aim to finish the job, huh?”
“No woman’s safe, so long as he’s above ground. He murdered at least five in London. The last was a sorry wench named Mary. I was there in her digs, hiding beneath her bed, the night he butchered her.”
“Now how came you to be hiding under some gal’s bed?”
“It was the fault of Rolfe Barnes, actually. Mother teaches violin, you see. She’d been off giving a lesson to One-Legged Liz…” And so it began.
As we were likely to be on the trail all day and Barney appeared to relish the story, I didn’t hurry it along. I recounted in great detail the whole course of my misadventures. I ran with the truth about all that had happened in London and aboard the True D. Light. It wasn’t till Sarah Forrest entered the tale that I took to fudging some. The omissions there forced me to bend the truth in regard to Briggs. Then I felt disinclined to tell about running with the outlaw gang, as that would’ve shown me for a horse thief and a murderer.
Instead of meeting up with the gang after I was pitched off the train, I told Barney that I’d walked to the nearest town, found myself a job there washing dishes in a restaurant, and worked at that till I was able to buy a horse and supplies and set off for Tombstone.
By and by, I got back to the truth. I told him about Jesse ambushing me, and how we’d thrown in together. I told him about the flood. About the German capturing Jesse, and how we’d shot him. About the uses we made of the mule. And finally I got us to where we’d decided against going into Tombstone, after all.
“Jesse feared that Sarah might be there. You know women.”
“That’s the plain truth.”
“As for me, I figured that I’d rather give up on my notion to chase after Whittle than to put Jesse at risk. I’d seen what he did to Mary and Trudy. Just couldn’t allow that to happen to Jesse. Anyway, we allowed as how we might find him in Tombstone—or at least get ourselves an idea as to where we might start looking. But I didn’t want Jesse to have a hand in it, and she was mighty determined to stick with me, no matter what. So I judged the best course was to stay clear of Tombstone and forget Whittle. It was a great relief, actually. But then you came into camp last night with your story about Apache Sam.”
“Makes me right sorry I opened my yap.”
“If you hadn’t come along,” I said, “we likely would’ve run into Whittle one way or another, anyhow. It’s rather as if it was all meant to be that way.”
“One thing’s sure. That Jesse of yours, she means you to finish the job. That girl’s a caution.”
“She’s got more sand than sense,” I said.
“Oh, I reckon she knows what she’s doing.”
“What took y’all so long?” Jesse called from her perch on a boulder at the foot of Dogtooth Mountain.
It was late afternoon. I’d been walking, the past few hours, so as to give Joey a rest.
“Blast you, Jesse!” I shouted.
She smiled down at us. “No call to get riled there, Trevor. Howdy, Barney.”
“Howdy yourself, Miss Jesse.”
“Hope you folks didn’t wear yourselves out.” With that, she stood up and turned her back to us. She dropped out of sight for a spell, then came walking around from behind the boulder with General in tow. I
n spite of the cheery words she’d thrown at us from up above, she had a rather sheepish look about her. To Barney, she said, “Mighty kind of you to show Trevor the way.”
“Saved his feet some, I reckon.” He smiled at me. “You can thank me, now. Gotcha to her.”
“I’m very grateful. Thank you ever so much.”
“Well, I heard me a good story outa the deal. You two take care, now.” He touched the brim of his hat.
“You’re not leaving?” I asked.
“Yep. Done what I aimed to do. Got no room in my plans to hunt after Apache Sam or Whittle or none of their ilk. I always figured it’s a sight more healthy to shy away from trouble than to go looking for it. So it’s adios, kids. Try and keep alive.”
He wheeled Joey around and trotted off.
“Thank you again!” I called after him.
He gave his hat a wave in the air. Then the trail curved around behind some rocks and he was out of sight.
I turned to face Jesse.
“Now don’t you look at me that way,” she said. “I only just did what I had to. Surprised you didn’t think of it first and take off on me last night.”
“I thought of it,” I admitted. “But I had more sense than to do it. That was mighty lowdown and ornery.”
“Well, it worked. You’re here and so am I. How’d you get Barney to come along?”
“He was quite willing to help, soon as I explained what you’d done. He said you must be touched.”
“I just didn’t aim to get left out, that’s all.”
“I wasn’t aiming to leave you out.”
“Was, too. I know you, Trevor Bentley. Ain’t no way you would’ve struck out after Whittle without you got rid of me first.” She jammed her hands onto her hips and shoved her face at me. “Am I wrong or am I right? You tell me, now.”
“I wouldn’t have dodged off and left you alone.”
“Don’t go saying I left you alone. You was with Barney.”
“I wouldn’t have left you with Barney, either. I wouldn’t have left you, at all. We’re ‘pardners,’ remember? Partners stick together.”
She let her hands drop away from her hips. Her head lowered. Voice soft, she said, “Well, I knew you’d come along.”