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He was worried, knowing little of such wounds. The man might be bleeding bad internally.
“No, don’t leave me!” Mello pleaded. “Some varmint might come!” The effort of speaking left him panting.
Jim Sandifer swore softly, uncertain as to his proper course. He had little hope that Mello could be saved even if he rode for a doctor. The nearest one was miles away, and movement of the wounded man would be very dangerous. Nor was Mello’s fear without cause for there were mountain lions, wolves and coyotes in the area, and the scent of blood was sure to call them.
“Legs—gone,” Mello panted. “Can’t feel nothing.”
“Take it easy,” Jim advised. The nearest place was Bill Katrishens, and Bill might be some hand with a wounded man. He said as much to Mello. “Can’t be more’n three, four miles,” he added. “I’ll give you back your gun an’ build up the fire.”
“You—you’ll sure come back?” Mello pleaded.
“What kind of a coyote do you think I am?” Sandifer asked irritably. “I’ll get back as soon as ever I can.” He looked down at him. “Why were you gu
CHAPTER THREE: Entombed!
Leaving the fire blazing brightly, Jim returned to his buck-skin and crawled into the saddle. The moon was higher now, and the avenues through the trees were like roads, eerily lighted. Touching a spur to the horse, Jim raced through the night, the cool wind fa
The Katrishen log cabin and pole corrals lay bathed in white moonlight as he raced his horse into the yard. The drum of hooves upon the hard packed earth and his call brought movement from inside: “Who is it? What’s up?”
Briefly, he explained, and after a minute the door opened. “Come in, Jim. Figured I heard a shot awhile back. Dan Mello, you say? He’s a bad one.”
Hurrying to the corral, Jim harnessed two mustangs and hitched them to the buckboard. A moment later Bill Katrishen, tall and gray-haired came from the cabin, carrying a lantern in one hand and a black bag in the other.
“I’m no medical man,” he said, “but I fixed a sight of bullet wounds in my time.” He crawled into the buckboard and one of his sons got up beside him. Led by Sandifer they started back over the way he had come.
Mello was still conscious when they stopped beside him. He looked unbelievingly at Katrishen.
“You come?” he said. “You knowed who—who I was?”
“You’re hurt, ain’t you?” Katrishen asked testily. Carefully, he examined the man, then sat back on his heels. “Mello,” he said, “I ain’t one for foolin’ a man. You’re plumb bad off. That bullet seems to have slid off your hip bone an’ tore right through you. If we had you down to the house we could work on you a durned sight better, but I don’t know whether you’d make it or not.”
The wounded man breathed heavily, staring from one to the other. He looked scared, and he was sweating, yet under it his face was pale.
“What you think,” he panted, “all right—with me.”
“The three of us can put him on them quilts in the back of the buckboard. Jim, you slide your hands under his back.”
“Hold up,” Mello’s eyes wavered, then focused on Jim. “You watch—Martin. He’s plumb—bad.”
“What’s he want, Mello?” Jim said. “What’s he after?”
“G—old,” Mello panted, and then suddenly he relaxed. “Fainted,” Katrishen said. “Load him up.”
All through the remainder of the night they worked over him. It was miles over mountain roads to Silver City and the nearest doctor, and little enough that he could do. Shortly before the sun lifted, Dan Mello died.
Bill Katrishen got up from beside the bed, his face drawn with weariness. He looked across the body of Dan Mello at Sandifer. “Jim, what’s this all about? Why was he gu
“I never heard of the woman, Jim. I can’t figure why she’d have it in for me. What did Mello mean when he said Martin was after gold?”
“You’ve got me. I know they are money hungry, but the ranch is—” He stopped, and his face lifted, his eyes narrowing. “Bill, did you ever hear of gold around here?”
“Sure, over toward Cooney Canyon. You know, Cooney was a sergeant in the Army, and after his discharge he returned to hunt for gold he located while a soldier. The Apaches finally got him, but he had gold first.”
“Maybe that’s it. I want a fresh horse, Bill.”
“You get some sleep first. The boys an’ I’ll take care of Dan. Kara will fix breakfast for you.”
The sun was high when Jim Sandifer rolled out of his bunk and stumbled sleepily to the door to splash his face in cold water poured from a bucket into the tin basin. Kara heard him moving and came to the door, walking carefully and lifting her hand to catch the door jam.
“Hello, Jim. Are you rested? Dad an’ the boys buried Dan Mello over on the knoll.”
Jim smiled at her reassuringly.
“I’m rested, but after I eat I’ll be ridin’, Kara.” He looked up at the slender girl with the rusty hair and pale freckles. “You keep the boys in, will you? I don’t want them to be where they could be shot at until I can figure a way out of this. I’m going to maintain peace in this country or die tryin’!”
“You’re a good man, Jim,” the girl said. “This country needs more like you.”
Sandifer shook his head somberly. “Not really a good man, Kara, just a man who wants peace and time to build a home. I reckon I’ve been as bad as most, but this is a country for freedom, and a country for things to be done. We can’t do it when we are killin’ each other.”
The buckskin horse was resting but the iron gray that Katrishen had provided was a good mountain horse. Jim Sandifer pulled his gray hat low over his eyes and squinted against the sun. He liked the smell of pine needles, the pungent smell of sage. He moved carefully, searching the trail for the way Lee Martin’s horse had gone the day Grimes followed him.
Twice he lost the trail, then found it again only to lose it finally in the sand of a wash. The area covered by the sand was small, a place where water had spilled down a steep mountainside eating out a raw wound in the cliff, yet there the trail vanished. Dismounting, a careful search disclosed a brushed over spot near the cliff, and then a chafed place on a small tree. Here Lee Martin had tied his horse, and from here he must have gone on foot.
It was a small rock, only half as big as his fist that was the telltale clue. The rock showed where it had lain in the earth but had been recently rolled aside. Moving close, he could see that the stone had rolled from under a clump of brush, and parting the brush, the clump rolled easily under his hand. Then he saw that although the roots were still in the soil, that at some time part of it had been pulled free, and the clump had been rolled over to cover an opening no more than a couple of feet wide and twice as high. It was a man made tu
Concealing the gray in the trees some distance off, Sandifer walked back to the hole, stared around uneasily, then ducked his head and entered. Once inside, the tu