Though they had survived one attack, nobody relaxed. Where there were a dozen Apaches, there could be a dozen more—or two dozen or three dozen—and none of the men wanted to take any chances. Nobody had slept much after the fight the night before, just fitful catnaps while at least one man was always awake and on guard.
The wash was still rough going, and the temperature climbed as quickly as the sun did. Not even a breath of air stirred inside the arroyo where the men rode. The Kid was glad when they finally reached the end of it. There wasn’t much of a breeze blowing on the desert, just a faint stirring in the atmosphere, but even that was enough to bring a little cooling to sweat-soaked skin.
Not far away, foothills loomed with the mountains behind them. The green pines dotting the slopes gave them a cool look, even though the air was as hot as ever. Up in the hills, in the shade of those pines, it would be cooler.
“How will we know if we’re ahead of the Apaches?” The Kid asked Kelly.
“See that saddle?” The Irishman pointed to a dip between two rugged hills. “The trail to San Remo goes through there. If there are no fresh tracks, that means we’re ahead of the savages.”
“Maybe they went some other way,” The Kid suggested.
“We’ve been down here off and on for more than two years, hunting Apaches,” Kelly said. “I know where they go, Kid. There are other trails through the hills ... but
What Kelly said made sense, The Kid supposed.
The men drew their rifles as they rode toward the saddle between the two hills. They didn’t want to ride up onto the rear guard of the Apache war party and not be prepared.
Mateo inspected the ground closely. When they reached the top of the slope, they reined in. Mateo looked at Kelly and shook his head.
“They haven’t come through here yet,” Kelly said.
The Kid agreed with that conclusion. He hadn’t seen any fresh tracks, either.
He turned in the saddle and looked back to the northeast. They were high enough that he could see the vast sweep of that godforsaken wilderness. Somewhere out there, if they were still alive, were Jess Ritter, Violet and Elsie Price, and Leah Gabbert. They were probably terrified, miserable, and humiliated by the degradation they had been forced to endure already.
But The Kid clung to the hope that they were alive. As long as they were, there was a chance to help them. He had been determined to turn his back on everyone’s problems, including his own, but fate hadn’t worked out that way.
Kelly pointed to the slopes on either side of the gap.
“Let’s get up there and find some good spots. Morgan and I will take this side. Mateo, you take Lupe and Chess up yonder on the other side.”
Mateo nodded.
Kelly turned a wolfish grin toward the desert. “Lots more scalps headed this way.”
Chapter 21
The Kid and Enrique Kelly climbed about fifty yards up the slope, leading their horses. When they reached an area that was thickly covered with trees, as well as having a cluster of boulders just a short distance uphill, Kelly declared, “This is it. This is where we’ll wait for them. We’ll put the horses in the rocks where they’ll be safe, then pick good firing positions here in the trees.”
They led their mounts behind the boulders and picketed them, then returned to the thick stand of pines. The spot gave them a good field of fire over the entire trail for several hundred yards.
The Kid looked at the opposite hill and didn’t see any sign of Chess, Valdez, and Mateo, even though he knew they were over there. Obviously, they were well hidden.
“I’ve been wondering about something,” he said to Kelly as they took up their positions behind thick-trunked pines. “Even with the twenty men we’ve killed, there are still a lot more of them than there are of us. What’s to stop them from charging up the slopes and overrunning us with their superior numbers?”
“That’s why we’ve got to do as much damage as possible as soon as we open fire. Pick your targets well, Kid, and shoot fast. If we can put another fifteen or twenty of them on the ground before they know what’s going on, it’ll spook them. They won’t know how many men are up here, so they’ll try to get out of this bottleneck as fast as they can and head on through the pass to San Remo.”
“If it doesn’t work out that way, we won’t stand much of a chance,” The Kid warned.
Kelly shrugged. “Nobody ever said this life would be easy. A man’s got to fight, and he’s got to take some chances, if he’s going to get what he wants. Otherwise, what’s the point?” The Irishman laughed. “Anyway, the only thing that’s ever scared me is thinking about getting old and dying in bed. How about you?”
“That’s not likely to happen,” The Kid said.
“Exactly. Don’t worry about it, Kid. Just enjoy it as it comes.”
Fine advice from a bloody-handed killer, The Kid thought.
That description fit him, too, he reminded himself. Maybe Kelly was right.
But there were still those prisoners to think of. Until he had done everything he could to help them, he couldn’t let himself get carried away by the urge to do battle that had grown up inside him in recent years.
Now that they were in position, all they could do was wait. The Kid had not been raised to be the most patient of men ... but that life was in the past. Now he was able to stand still, alert, his eyes searching the desert to the northeast of the foothills.
And after a while, sure enough ...
He saw something.
It was just a smudge at first, with a haze of dust floating over it, but as it came closer the vague, dark mass took on shape. It resolved itself into a large group of riders.
As Kelly had said, the Apaches weren’t in any hurry. They approached the foothills at a deliberate pace, most of them on horseback but some walking, striding along tirelessly beside the horses.
“What’d I tell you?” Kelly called softly. “I was right, wasn’t I, Kid?”
“Looks like it,” The Kid agreed. He wished he could fetch his telescope from his saddlebags so he could get a better look at the group. He wanted to be sure the four women were with them.
But there was too great a chance sunlight would reflect off the glass and warn the Apaches that someone was up there waiting for them. The Kid knew he couldn’t run that risk. He would just have to wait until they were closer before he looked for Jess and the other captives.
Now that the Apaches were almost there, the waiting was harder. The Kid felt his heart slugging in his chest as the first riders in the war party reached the slope and started up toward the saddle. His eyes narrowed with intensity as he swept his gaze along the column.
Like a splash of light in the middle of surrounding darkness, the sun shone on blond hair. The Kid leaned forward. The riders came closer and shifted around, and suddenly he got a good look at Jessica Ritter.
Jess rode one of the Apache ponies by herself. Her blouse was in tatters, and her skirt was pulled up since she rode astride. The Kid could tell by the way she held her hands in front of her that her wrists were tied together.
But her head was up, and he was confident if he was close enough to make out any details, he would see defiance burning in her eyes.
A few yards behind her, two women with brown hair rode double on one of the horses. That was probably Violet Price and her daughter, The Kid thought. Farther back in the column, the fourth captive, Leah Gabbert, rode in front of one of the warriors with his arm around her. Her long auburn hair hung over her face as her head drooped forward. Everything about her screamed despair, and The Kid didn’t figure he could blame her for feeling that way.
As far as any of the women knew, no help was coming for them and no one was even aware of their
