"But what is it all? And how did it get here?"
"Maybe from a stagecoach." Toliver walked around the find. "They could have dumped all this if they had to make a quick run, maybe because of an Apache raid. Look there—" He reached into the heap and pulled something into the full beam of the torch. "This is a shotgun— a real old one—the kind a stagecoach guard would have."
"If the Apaches were after them, wouldn't they have needed all their guns?" Neal wanted to know.
"Could be they had no more shells for it."
"That mailbag." Neal centered the light full on it. "We ought to give that to the postman.
Isn't there-some kind of law about mail having to be handled that way?"
"Letters in there, if there are any," Toliver commented, "have been on the way a good long time. Don't think anyone's still waiting for them now."
"How long has all this been here, do you suppose?" Christie asked.
' 'Last raid must have been close to a hundred years ago now," Toliver answered.
A hundred years! It was hard to think of that trunk, the bags, and all the rest being shut up here for a hundred years. Christie wondered what had happened to the people who had left them there. Toliver said these might have been hidden to lighten a stage load so they could get ahead faster and escape. But nobody ever came back to get them, so— Suddenly she wanted to get out of this dark cave and forget about what might have happened to the people who had been here once.
"Chris!" Neal was excited. "Don't you see—this is just what we need for the Plan! For a museum at the station—things that were carried on the old stagecoaches—better than arrowheads. It's super!"
"But—they don't belong to us. What about the people who left them here?"
"A hundred years ago?" Neal demanded. "Nobody would be alive now. Maybe we'd never be able even to find out who they were. Listen here—let's just cover this up until we get a chance to come back and really look it over. Dad—Mother—they're too busy to want to be bothered now. We'll come back tomorrow, bring some stuff to wipe all this clean. Maybe we'll even just leave it here in the cave—fix it up a little so people can see it better, then show it off just as we found it. This is the kind of things tourists want to see!"
"Could be you're right," Toliver agreed. "We could pick the rest of the stones out of the opening, make it easier to get in. Maybe take a little of the stuff out, though—the shotgun, the mailbag." It was clear he agreed with Neal about the value of Shan's find.
However, Christie was still uneasy. Perhaps the people who had owned this were dead a long time ago, but— Well, it had been hidden so long it would not hurt to let it stay where it was a little longer. And when Father was not so busy they could ask him about it.
Neal was continuing: "I vote we don't say anything about this until we get it cleaned up— ready to be seen. Then we ask them to come for a big surprise—"
"Okay," Toliver agreed.
Neal turned to the twins, who had been staring round-eyed at the pile of dusty luggage.
"That means you, too—no talking about this! You just show your arrowheads and say we were hunting them. But not this—we want it to be a surprise." Both of them nodded. "But we get to help unpack," Parky insisted quickly. "Nobody unpacks a thing," Neal said sharply, "unless we are all here and do it together. Maybe tomorrow we can sort out part of it. Now let's get out of here and put some of those stones back. We don't want to take a chance of anyone else finding it." Christie guessed it must be late afternoon by now. If they did not get back to the station soon, someone might come hunting them.
However, she stood by, handing stones to the boys. At last Neal and Toliver decided they had done enough, and once more it looked like a natural fall of rock with no cave behind it.
In a hurry, Christie released Shan from the picnic basket, while Libby packed what was left of their lunch. Then they started the reluctant twins homeward, leaving the boys behind to give the last touches to the rocks hiding their find.
The Navajos who had come to help at the station were camping out near the Wildhorse van, and they had already started a cooking fire when the children came across the meadow. Christie discovered, to her relief, that Mother was just beginning to wonder about them. She listened to Parky's tale of arrowheads and said she was glad they had such a good time. When Christie ventured to suggest they might picnic again tomorrow, Mother seemed relieved and agreed at once—anything, their sister thought, to keep the twins out from underfoot.
It was after the twins had gone to bed that Neal signaled Christie and they slipped out of the room where Mother and Father were talking to Mr. Wainwright, the contractor from town.
"You're not planning to go back to the cave tonight!" Christie had a sudden suspicion.
"'Course not! I want to talk to Pinto. Maybe he can give us some idea why those things were left there."
"You are going to tell him? But I thought it was to be a secret."
"Not tell him, no. Just ask about the times when there were those raids here. Could be he knows some story to explain about the things being hid."
Pinto was sitting on the broad sill of the shed he claimed as his own quarters. As the children came up, he shook flakes of tobacco into a piece of paper, which he rolled into a crumpled-looking cigarette. Christie had never seen that done before.
"Do you always make your own cigarettes?"
"Sure do. Old trick for range hands. I ain't learned many new ones. See here—" He showed her the little drawstring-tied bag of tobacco and a packet of papers. "These here are what we used to call 'the makin's.' There weren't store-bought cigarettes then. A man made his own or chawed or went without. So you was off grubbin? for Injun things today. Find much?"
"Some arrowheads and part of a spearhead," Neal answered. "Toliver found a necklace of teeth. The string fell apart when he picked it up. He didn't want it—said it might be 'medicine'—like warriors wore into battle to make them brave."
"Medicine." Pinto nodded as if he understood that very well. "Depended a lot on their 'medicine,' they did. Sometimes when they got to thinkin' their 'medicine' wasn't good, they'd stop right in the middle of a fight and light out.'' "Pinto," Neal said, "you talked about Apaches attacking the station. Did they do that often?"
"Often enough to keep a man on his toes wonderin' when it was goin' to happen agin. Station was changed some from the way you see it now. Your pa, he's plannin' to turn it back a little—make it more interestin' to them tourists. It used to be more like a real fort. Them walls that's now only stones and 'dobe lyin' around—they was built up. The main buildin', it was alongside of one wall, this here bunkhouse and smithy against th'other side. There was some buildin's over there—that's where teamsters an' travelers not comin' by stage could fort up if there was a bad raid. Kept four, five men on guard here all the time. They'd put the horse an' mules in the center to be safe. There was just one gate to let in the stage and team. An' they kept lookout posts up the road a ways.
"They was lucky here because of the spring. Station built around that so had water all the time. For a while—while Manico, the Apache War chief, was raidin'—they kept an army patrol here, too."
"Were you here then, Pinto?"
"Well, boy, I may be old, but I ain't got that many years behind me. M'pa was, though, and I heard him tell 'bout those times. You see, before pa was a young'un and came to this country it was boornin'—mines gettin' out gold and silver, the army ridin' herd on the 'Paches and tryin' to keep peace. Then came the War Between the States—what folks call the Civil War now. The army pulled out and went back east to do their fightin'. Then the 'Paches, they took it into their heads that it was them who beat and scared the army home. So they just cut loose, and in this whole country there weren't hardly anyplace a white man dared rest easy. Pete Kitchen down Tubac way—he had a regular fort built on his ranch and he held out. Got the Pimas on his side. They hated 'Paches and fought for him.
"But otherwise there weren't no Arizona, n
or not much of New Mexico neither, safe for white skins. The stage people, who was here then, they had to give in and clear out. Went broke, that first stage line did. And the mines— men walked off and left 'em. That was a bad time.
"Then the war back east finished and the army came back. Only the 'Paches, they were so sure they licked the whites first time around, they weren't goin' to give up easily. The miners, they was itchin' to get back to what they had had to leave. So there were all kinds of little wars as went on, with the army ridin' themselves weary tryin' to get things back into shape.
"Sam Bright, he was the man who started the stage goin' this way again, back in '67 that were. There were good, rich strikes back in the hills, plenty of them—gold comin' out, men goin' in. He went around hirin' his people outta the war back east. They might not know Injuns too good—though some of 'em being scouts before the war did—but they was good shots. Had him a sort of private army, Bright did. He built three, four stations like this one. Others he took over from the first companies—put his men in. Then he began runnin' the line. Sometimes he had more guards than passengers. But he didn't lose many coaches and he got a rep like Pete Kitchen for holdin' out and being tough enough to make the 'Paches think twice.
"Then he made a treaty for hisself with some of the Navajos and they took to doin' his scout-in'—just like the Pimas did for Kitchen. This station was important in those days. I seen, when I was a real little tad, a colonel sittin' down here with Bright and some Navajos talkin' things out. 'Course that was nigh to the end of all the trouble. The 'Paches, they got crowded out and had to go on reservations. Then Bright had nothin' but some road agents now and then to worry 'bout."
"What were road agents?" Christie wanted to know.
"Thieves—after the strongboxes."
Strongboxes—Christie remembered TV shows she had seen. Gold dust coming from the mountain mines. Why, there might be even some among those things they had found today! Could it belong to them because they had found it?
"Then the mines began to peter out," Pinto went on. "Stage came through maybe once a month, not twice a week like before. Darringer closed down. Maybe just one or two old desert rats still bunked out there doin' some pannin' and a little hammerin' around. The town died and so did the stage line. Only Bright had made this station such a good, tight place it lasted longer than them what had used it."
"When the Indians attacked, the people who were traveling just stayed in the station, didn't they? They didn't try to get away?" Neal wanted to know.
"They weren't stupid," Pinto said. "Who'd get out from behind walls and try to make a run for it with maybe a 'Pache behind every rock waitin' to cut 'em down. The 'Paches, they didn't go chargin' around on horses like the other Injuns. They liked to shoot without get-tin' shot at—spend a whole day creepin' to pick off a man without him knowin' they were within miles."
He puffed his twisted cigarette. " 'Course there was always some greenhorns as thought they knew more'n the men who had been here most of their lives. There was a story m'pa told 'bout a couple of dudes—they were from San Francisco—offered a driver big money to make a run out of here when they had to hole up some days. Iffen Bright or one of his head men had been here, he'd have locked 'em up in a hurry, for their own good. M'pa was here, only he had the fever and he was outta his head mosta the time, till it was too late.
"It looked like the 'Paches had beat it. A scout said the only sign he saw was two, three days old. Well, these dudes kept uppin' the price—they was in a tearin' hurry to get away for some reason. Finally they found a stupid wrangler who was only a part-time driver. He said he knew a way up the canyon as might get them out. So they was on to him, wavin' their money in their fists. He knocked out the regular driver and took 'em—and that was the end of 'em all."
"They never found them, the stage, or discovered anything about what happened?" Neal wanted to know.
"That's the way the story goes. And what made it worse—the 'Paches came in twice as hard in the mornin'. There was one time the station was nearly took. Only a patrol of horse soldiers comin' in drove them off. But it's a story there was no proof of. I'm reckonin' them dudes didn't get very far. Yes, this here station has sure seen some stirrin' times in the old days. Now"—Pinto rose and stretched— "seein' as how I have me a full day of fetchin' and carryin' comin' up tomorrow, I'm goin' to get me a little shut-eye."
"Thank you," Christie said, "for telling us about the station. Good night."
"Good night," Neal echoed her.
As they started back toward the big house, Christie asked in a low voice, "Do you suppose what we found* was from that stage? But why put those things in a cave, not just leave them there when they left?"
"They might have started out with them on board and then thought they could make better time without them," Neal answered thoughtfully. "They could have beat it out of here fast, thinking someone would stop them—and then ditched the stuff."
Christie looked carefully around. A big moon was rising to light the yard and the piles of lumber and materials that had been brought out from town. But there were dark shadows, too. No stagecoach, though, waiting for foolish men to take out into that farther dark where the silent enemy could be waiting. What was the truth behind Pinto's story?
Lady Maude
It was quite early when the pounding and noise began the next morning. Christie hurried to help Mother get breakfast. Some of the workers, rather than make the rough trip into town and back every day, were camping out, and they ate with the family. Others had brought their own supplies as had the Navajos. Neal, carrying in what seemed endless armloads of wood pieces to feed the stove, nudged his sister as he passed.
"Did you ask her yet—about our going?" "Yes, last night. But didn't you hear what Pinto said to Father? It may be going to rain." "What would that matter? It's dry in the cave.
'But Mother doesn't know about the cave. She'd think we were going to be out in the open," Christie pointed out.
"All right, I'll ask her again if you won't!" Neal was impatient.
That was not fair, Christie thought, as she set down a tray of used coffee mugs.
"Chris." Perks pulled at her belt from behind. "Chris, when are we going to go—you-know-where?"
"You-know-where?" Mother brought a steaming tea kettle from the stove. "I do hope we can get the water heater in soon. Where is you-know-where, Perks?"
"She means the place where we found the arrowheads," Neal cut in quickly.
"If it rains you won't be going anywhere, Perks, much as I would like you to," Mother answered. "I shall have to drive into town again with Marina to the launderette, or we won't have anything to wear in another day. You and Parky can come along with us, Perks."
"No!" Perks could be as stubborn as Parky when she wished.
"Perks!" Mother's voice was a warning.
"I want to go with Chris and Neal—to that place where all the things are—the dark place—"
"What dark place?"
Neal caught at Perks's shoulder. Christie knew he longed to give the little girl a warning shake and did not quite dare, not with Mother watching.
It was then that Christie was inspired to tell a portion of the truth. "We found a cave," she began. Neal glared at her but she continued anyway. "It has some—"
"Oh, the arrowheads were in a cave? But Christie, caves can be dangerous places. You mustn't go back there alone."
She must have been crazy, Christie thought now.
Neal added swiftly: "This one's all right, Mother. Toliver knows a lot about such things. He's been at that place before—so has Libby."
"I don't know about your going back there— at least not until your father sees it."
Neal shot a very hot look at Christie, which she knew she deserved. If Mother said no now they would have to tell about their discovery. Then maybe (Christie remembered the mailbag) Mother and Father would decide they could not keep the things, and their plan would be spoiled. If they only had tim
e to get to the cave and lay things out, perhaps everyone would be so impressed they would agree to keep them!
"Mother," Neal repeated anxiously, "Toliver has been there, and it really is safe. He's awfully careful about things like that."
"Perhaps—you and Chris—but I don't know about Perks and Parky—"
"Yes, yes, yes!" Perks's voice rose higher with every yes. One minute more and Mother would say no just because Perks was being so stubborn.
"It really is safe there, Mother," Christie assured her. "If you go to the launderette, you're going to be very busy. And the men will be here, too." No need to point out that Perks and Parky could be nuisances at either place if they set their minds to it. Mother already knew that. Mother still wore a frown line. "I want a promise, Christie."
"Yes!" At that moment Christie was ready to promise anything.
"If you go, you'll stay with the twins all the time. And Perks—"
"Yes?"
"You and Parky must promise to mind what Chris and Neal tell you to do, or you won't go back again. Understand? I mean you especially, Parky." The other twin had come up, dragging the picnic basket as if ready to pack it all by himself.
"I promise!" Perks cried, and Christie hoped she meant it.
But Parky was not so sure. "Do I have to just tag along?" His lip stuck out stubbornly.
"If you go at all, you do." Mother was firm.
Parky sighed. "When do we get big enough so's Chris and Neal don't have to look out for us? I get awfully tired of being looked after." "The sooner you are 'looked after' without whining and making trouble for Christie and Neal, the closer you are to looking after yourselves," Mother answered tartly. "All right, you can go. But be home earlier than you were last night. And if it rains, keep under cover and get back as soon as you can."
Parky banged the basket down before Christie. "Hurry and get some sandwiches and things! We gotta get there quick!"
Mother laughed. "And you think you need plenty of sandwiches and things, Parky? Well, get me the peanut butter, Christie—and the jelly-"