“We are going to the cabin I told you about, the prospector’s cabin where I stayed for a while. When we reach it we’ll get our bearings and start looking from there.”
“How are we going to find it again? Mighty big territory out here and you said it was well hidden.”
“It is, but when I left, I marked a trail in such a way so I’d be able to follow it, but no one else could. All we have to do is keep our eyes out for a tall rock chimney. Should be able to see it for miles. The trail starts at the base of it.”
Several hours later they spotted the chimney in the distance and rode for its base, only stopping long enough to allow the water to drain further before chancing to cross the swollen creek. Hours later, just after dark, they arrived at the cleft in the rock that marked the entrance to the hidden cabin. Not wanting to take any chances, they picketed their horses out of sight and walked the short distance to where they could scout the cabin without being seen.
LaRue was the first to suspect they weren’t alone. “Look over toward the corral,” he said, pointing to a spot beside the cabin. “There’s movement, maybe a horse.”
“Or maybe a deer. You did tell me this cabin wasn’t known by anyone but you and the old prospector, and he’s dead,” Shorty reminded LaRue.
The buckskin, having picked up the two men’s scent, let out a low warning.
“I guess somebody else knows about it now,” said LaRue nervously. “Let’s hope he’s friendly.
Madigan awoke with a start that made his head hurt. Waiting for his eyes to clear, he choked back the urge to sit up until he was sure of his surroundings. Was it his imagination or did he hear the buckskin give a warning? First thing Madigan noticed was the women were gone and the lantern was out, leaving only the light of the moon filtering in through a crack in the shutters to see by.
Swinging his feet to the floor, Madigan tested his strength before trying to stand. Reaching down, he felt for his gun belt and buckled it around his waist, then checked to be sure it was loaded. It was, except for the empty chamber he, like all cowboys, usually kept under the hammer. Slipping a cartridge from his belt, he dropped it into the empty hole and closed the loading gate.
Madigan wasn’t looking for any more trouble, but if it came his way he would be as ready as he could under the circumstances.
The way the cabin was built sitting back of the little canyon, there was only one way that any riders could come from. He peered through the crack between the shutters but could see no movement-not unusual, given the limited view from his position.
Somewhere in the darkness a horse snickered, answered by Madigan’s own buckskin. So, there was somebody out there after all. Overhead a cloud drifted across the moon, the land grew dark without the moonlight, making it impossible for Madigan to see if anyone approached the cabin.
He was in a dangerous situation and he knew it. His only chance was to take whoever was out there by surprise.
Moving slowly from the weakness, Madigan made his way to the small back window and crawled out without making a sound. As long as the moon stayed hidden he would be just as hard to see as they were to him.
He slowly inched his way to the corner of the cabin, listening for any sound out of place in the night. He was just easing up to the front corner when the moon slid out from behind the cloud, bathing everything in greenish light. Madigan froze, knowing that any movement on his part would give him away for sure.
Madigan wasn’t the only one caught off guard. There in front of him facing the porch was a big man holding a gun. Beside him was a boy, or at least Madigan thought it was a boy from his size. They hadn’t seen him yet.
“How about layin’ those guns on the ground,” Madigan ordered.
Neither of them moved for what seemed like minutes, and feeling the way he was, Madigan wasn’t sure he could make much of a fight if they chose to go that way.
“Anything you say, partner,” the big man said as they slowly bent over and laid their guns carefully on the ground. “Didn’t mean you any harm,” the big man said. “Last time I was here the place was deserted. Man can’t be too careful out here.”
Madigan covered them as he moved around the corner in full view. “Seems to me you took an awful chance coming up to the cabin the way you did. You left yourself open for someone to get the drop on you.”
“We weren’t hunting any trouble,” the big man replied.
“Then why’d you sneak up to the cabin without hailing it first?”
The boy turned toward Madigan and for the first time, Madigan realized he was not a boy at all, but a very small man.
“We ran into trouble back on the trail and weren’t sure who we might meet up with. You can see our point for being cautious. We just wanted to make sure it wasn’t any of the bunch that’s been trailing us, that’s all,” the little man said.
Well, maybe they were tellin’ the truth and maybe they weren’t. The main thing was that Madigan had gotten himself into a fix he couldn’t see an easy way out of. If he’d not been wounded, he would have the time to hear them out and get a feeling for if they were telling the truth. But even as Madigan stood there he could feel his legs start to weaken and was having a hard time keeping the gun up.
Why, Madigan thought to himself, did everything have to happen to him? He’d started for California not bothering anyone and not wanting to be bothered by anyone. Just a peaceful ride, seeing the country, doing a little fishing along the way, mayhap a bit of huntin’. But life has a way of changing the best-laid plans. Usually, it only threw you a few problems along the way to make things interesting, or annoying at most, although Madigan could honestly say this was not one of those times. In the space of a few weeks he’d almost been blown up, chased from here to hell and back, and finally shot, not to mention the men he had to kill.
Now Madigan was saddled with the added problem of trying to figure out what to do with two men that could be friend or foe and he had no way of tellin’ which. Of course, he could just shoot them on the spot and deal with his conscience later. Just thinking of it made Madigan realize that he must still be half out of his head. As it was, the decision was taken out of Madigan’s hands.
Standing there with his gun covering the two men, he suddenly became aware of a strange look on their faces. Then everything seemed to turn upside down as if he was being drawn down into a deep whirlpool from which there was no escape.
Around and around he went, deeper and deeper into the void, the faces of the men growing wider and wider until they stretched themselves into grotesque masks. Was he seeing the face of death? Then. . blackness. No sound, no pain, just total blackness. The blackest black Madigan had ever seen.
The first thing Madigan remembered was a flash of light, then blackness again. Next came a blast of sound as if the whole world was crashing in on him. Madigan’s hand tightened on the gun, but it wasn’t there. Slowly, ever so slowly, his senses crept back to him. The blackness turned to gray, then brown.
Noises kept entering his head to bounce back and forth in indiscernible patterns. At last a word filtered through, then another and another. “He’s coming to,” someone said.
A smell drifted by and Madigan’s stomach growled.
“He’ll be hungry when he wakes up,” another voice from some distant place said.
It seemed like hours, days, before his mind cleared enough to open his eyes. When he did, Madigan found himself lying back on the cot. What’s that smell, he wondered, not quite able to make out what it was yet.
Madigan felt a coolness on his forehead. A hand came into view and lifted a damp rag from him, and a drop of water fell into his eye. He blinked and his vision cleared some more, enabling him to see the big man sitting by his side on a chair that looked too small for the man.
“Well, you’re back to the land of the living, I see,” the big man said.
“Who are you?” Madigan asked weakly.
“You rest a while, then we’ll talk,” the big man said with a gentle smile. “When you feel up to it, we’ll fix you something to eat.”
Madigan must have dozed off, for when he awoke there was the smell of stew cooking. Seeing him awake, the two men came over and asked if he was strong enough to eat at the table. Madigan was, so they helped him to the table, where a bowl of hot stew and a cup of coffee waited. Over food they made friendly conversation.
Madigan found out the big man’s name was Pete LaRue and the other went by the name of Shorty. Both were
