Getting closer, he could see where the bullet entered Scar Face’s chest. The man laying under him still worried Madigan though. He turned his horse so that he came around behind the outlaw in case the man might try something. This way the bandit would have to move his dead friend from on top of him to get a clear shot. Madigan wasn’t about to take any more chances than he had to.
All the worry was for nothing. As Madigan rode up behind the outlaw, he could see he was no threat to him or anyone else. The bullet that killed his friend had gone all the way through. As Madigan suspected, the second man was trying to pull one of the oldest tricks in the book-drawing his gun while unseen behind another. The Mexican’s gun was still gripped tightly in his lifeless hand.
He had leaned down for more cover at the same time Madigan shot through the man in front of him. Madigan’s bullet hit him full in the mouth and had blown out the back of his neck. The sight made Madigan sick to his stomach and he gasped for air.
The women were sitting by the man they had killed. As Madigan approached they eyed him suspiciously, but made no move and said nothing.
“You’re safe now,” he said as he stepped down from his horse while keeping a safe distance, for he had witnessed what the women could do. Bending over while keeping an eye on the women, he withdrew a knife from one of the dead men’s belts and threw it to them.
“Here, cut yourselves loose. I’ll get you something to wear.”
The women grabbed the knife and cut each other’s bonds. Madigan tried not to look at their nakedness, while at the same time being aware of any threatening moves they made. After cutting themselves free, they just sat there, their eyes following his every move.
To his surprise, the outlaws’ horses had stayed where the men dropped. He went over and took the bedrolls from two of them.
“Here, see what you can do with these,” he said as he tossed the bedrolls to the women. They gathered the blankets up and with the knife soon fashioned a serape by cutting a hole in the center of each blanket, then pulled it over their heads, tying the sides closed with short strands of rope.
While they were busy clothing themselves, Madigan took a short shovel from his pack to bury the bodies with. As he dug he still kept a watchful eye on the women who were now fully covered.
For the first time since he saw them, he realized that they were not Mexicans or Anglos. Their features were different from any he’d seen. They could be Indians, but none that he knew of. Maybe they belonged to a tribe of desert dwellers. Madigan did not know and he didn’t plan on finding out; for he would bury the outlaws and be on his way.
The outlaws’ horses would carry the women to wherever they wished to go. The horses! A sudden thought struck Madigan. Each horse carried saddlebags and each saddlebag was bulging. What were these men carrying? Did they rob a bank, or maybe a prospector that hit it big? He dropped the shovel and walked to a horse that was grazing beside the trail. The women still watched his every move.
Opening the flap, he was shocked into disbelief. As the sunlight flooded the inside of the bag, he was momentarily blinded by the reflection of gold! Not gold ore or gold nuggets, but hundreds of small gold figurines and utensils!
He quickly checked the other bag and found the same thing. He ran to the next horse, almost scaring it away. Madigan forced himself to stop. Moving slowly, he gained the animal’s confidence and was able to check the contents of its saddlebags as well. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as more gold was uncovered. It couldn’t be, but it was! He was breathing hard as the third pair of saddlebags revealed the same treasure. He had to stop to catch his breath. There must be hundreds of thousands of dollars here-all his! He was richer than he ever dreamed of being. The job in California had no meaning now. He could buy the biggest ranch in the state of Texas if he’d a mind to!
Then, he remembered the women. They would know about the gold. Maybe it was theirs. Maybe he should kill them. Yes, he could kill and bury them. No one would know. He could melt the gold down and say he made a big strike and smeltered the ore himself. It was done sometimes. No one would care.
His hand went to his gun. Just two quick shots and he would have it all. He would be rich! Rich enough to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. The women seemed to sense what he had in mind. The fear showed in their eyes, yet they remained calm, unmoving.
Then reality hit him. He would not only be rich, he would also be a murderer! The women stood a dozen yards away, and for the first time Madigan saw how beautiful they were. They both had silky black hair, the younger one’s grew halfway down her back, and the other’s was shoulder length. They were both slim, but well developed, with skin that seemed smooth and unblemished, from what Madigan could see under the dirt, unlike most Indians whose skin was burnt dry from the sun and wind.
Then there were their eyes, those beautiful eyes. A man could lose himself in their eyes. And when he looked into the eyes of the younger one, a feeling came over him the likes of nothing he had ever felt before.
He also saw knew they were not afraid anymore. Somehow they knew he was not a man to kill for the sake of gold. Madigan stood there a long while, his mind full of shame for even thinking such a horrible thought.
Madigan instinctively knew the gold figurines belonged to the women, or the women’s people, and it meant far more to them than all the gold in the world could to him. He let his gun drop back into its holster. Then quickly, before changing his mind, he took a saddlebag from one of the Mexican’s horses and placed it over one of the other saddlebags. This way one horse carried two saddlebags and the other horse carried the third bag. He took the reins, and stooping, gathered up a canteen that fell when Scar Face was shot off his horse. He shook it; it was full. This he placed over the pommel of one of the saddles, then he handed the reins to the women.
“Here,” he said with a self-conscious smile.
I must be crazy, he thought. The younger one reached out and took the reins. For a moment their eyes met. This woman, like no other he’d ever known, stirred something within him and he knew he would never be the same again. The older woman said something to her that he could not understand, then turned to Madigan and in a kind of sign language asked him to wait for a moment while she took something from the saddlebag that had belonged to Scar Face.
Many Indians speak both their native tongue as well as English but prefer to not let on that they understand what is being said. Madigan expected this was how it was with these women, but did not let it show. They had good reason to not trust anyone right now.
What the older woman took from the saddlebag was a little figurine of what looked to him like a man. Unlike the others that he’d seen, it was made out of gold and silver. The figurine was masterfully made, the top half being gold, the bottom being of silver.
She reached for the knife that he’d given her earlier. Madigan quickly stepped back a few paces, not knowing what she was about to do. Both women smiled at his caution. With the knife, the woman pried the little man in half. To his amazement the figurine came apart, not in two pieces, but in three. One part was all gold. The bottom piece was silver, but from the middle came a ring of both silver and gold.
She held this out to him, indicating for Madigan to put it on his finger. He took the ring from her and tried it on. It fit perfectly. Both women placed their hands over his and slowly said what he took to be some kind of a prayer. Then the older of the two took from the top of the figurine a white powder. It came freely into her hand and she pinched some between her fingers and placed it on her tongue, then motioned for him to do the same. Madigan didn’t think it could hurt, so he followed suit. Then the women sat down on the ground, and he did the same.
What were these strange women doing? Why had they been captured in the first place? Where’d all the gold come from and where would they take it? There were many questions he wanted to ask but knew not how. He was torn between his conscience and his need to know. And maybe a little greed.
Madigan awoke from the cold many hours later. The women were gone, along with the gold, but to his surprise the horses were picketed by a small creek a few dozen yards away. He looked down and saw that the ring was still on his finger.
“So it was not a dream,” he said aloud. Trying to stand up, he felt lightheaded. The powder, he thought.
Judging by the moon overhead, Madigan surmised it must be around ten in the evening. He hadn’t eaten since morning and his stomach was growling something awful. Looking for a place to build a small fire, he was startled to find that wood was already piled within a small circle of stones. The wood was dry and all he would have to do was strike a match to start it ablaze. Whoever piled the wood had been careful to use wood that would not
