her shirt and take hold of her breast. She tried to roll away but he dropped the tin cup in the dirt and grabbed her with his free hand.
Terrified, she started to scream, then a thought struck her. “If you don’t get away from me and stay away, I’ll tell O’Neill what you are doing, and that you told me you plan to kill him when his back is turned so you can have me for yourself!”
The man’s hand froze. “What makes you think he’ll believe you?”
The man was right, but Lewana had no choice but to go on with the bluff. “Maybe he won’t.” She raised her eyes to meet his. “But shall we find out?” she said defiantly.
“Look, ma’am, I didn’t mean you no harm,” he said as he withdrew his hand. “I don’t know what got into me. You being such a pretty woman and all, I just lost my head for a moment, that’s all. You got to believe me! I didn’t mean you no harm, honest!”
Lewana was about to demand him to leave when she got another idea. “I’ll make a deal with you,” she began. “You bring me some more water whenever you can without O’Neill seeing you and I’ll keep quiet about what happened. If I get thirsty, I tell everything. Understand?”
The thin man looked away from her. “Understood,” he replied. “I’ll bring you more water now before O’Neill gets out of the sack,” he said as he came to his feet and walked off.
The thin man remembered vividly the fate of Warren Elegant, and knew full well he’d receive the same if O’Neill even thought he was trying to pull something behind his back.
For the moment Lewana was safe, but there was no way of telling what would happen when O’Neill got up.
Looking the scene before him over very carefully, Madigan assessed the situation. Lewana was held captive directly in front of him. To his right was the entrance to the tunnel that was now blocked by a boulder, keeping O’Neill, his men, and the Indians trapped also.
To Madigan’s left stood the Indian village. Encircling this valley were shear rock cliffs, and Madigan and his friends were on top of those cliffs.
Any animal is more dangerous when trapped, and O’Neill was no exception. So the first thing to be done was give O’Neill an escape route, and that meant removing the boulder from the cave’s mouth. They had enough blasting powder to do the job; only trouble was, if they set the charge inside the cave, it might bring down the roof.
There was only one thing to do and that was to set the charge in such a way as to roll the rock to the side. Of course, it was easier said than done. Someone would have to crawl under the edge of the boulder and place the charge just right. And they had no way of knowing if there was even room for a man to get it under the boulder. A further problem was the fact that if there was room enough, it might expose the person to rifle fire. A bullet didn’t take much room to kill.
After talking it over with LaRue and Shorty, it was decided that Shorty would have the best chance of pulling it off. LaRue and Madigan were just too darn big for the job, but it didn’t make either of them feel any better about having to send their friend to do the dangerous work.
“We’ll keep them so occupied they won’t even know you’re around!” LaRue promised. For Madigan’s part, it was the first time in his life he’d wished he wasn’t so damn large.
Madigan gave Shorty enough fuse so he’d have at least ten minutes to get out once he struck a match to it, then took an old axle grease can, wiped it clean so it wouldn’t foul the powder, and packed it to the brim with blasting powder.
After packing it, he secured the lip and punched a hole just large enough for the fuse and wrapped the whole affair with rope to make it into the neatest little bomb you ever saw.
Soon Shorty was on his way down the outer wall with Mila and one of the warriors leading the way. They figured it’d take three hours before Shorty could get to the inside of the boulder, so Madigan and LaRue sat down to wait, each of them lost in his own thoughts. The biggest one on Madigan’s mind was whether he would be able to save Lewana in time.
Several times he checked on Lewana, his heart aching at the thought of her lying there, possibly hurt. Oh, how he wanted to lay waste to the men that held her captive.
“You think Shorty will be able to get the can far enough under the rock to move it out of the way?” LaRue asked after a while.
Madigan picked up his binoculars and took a long, hard look at the boulder below.
“From what I can see from here, there seems to be a little room under the north end of it. Might just be room to get the charge in the right place. If we’re lucky,” he added.
The hours dragged on slowly and Madigan wanted desperately to know how Lewana was doing. He would have given anything to speed the time up.
He was just taking a slow drink of water, letting it trickle down his throat when movement from below caught Madigan’s eye. Rolling out of his blankets was the unmistakable image of Harry O’Neill, his snowy white hair standing out like a beacon in the night.
A fleeting thought ran through Madigan’s mind upon seeing him. Just one shot and O’Neill would be no more, just a hunk of dead flesh rotting in the sun, meat for the vultures to feast on. Nothing more, nothing less.
LaRue must have read Madigan’s mind at that very moment. “We can’t take a chance on killing O’Neill yet. No telling what his men might do. If they rushed the village, the Indians won’t have a chance.
“Unless he tries something, we have to wait it out. Maybe when the boulder’s out of the way, they’ll fall back, and we can keep them pinned down long enough for the Indians to get her out of there.”
“I guess you’re right,” Madigan said reluctantly, while mentally calculating the distance he’d have to hold over to make a one-shot kill on O’Neill.
The Indians, with Shorty following close behind, moved swiftly through the cave, arriving at the boulder fifteen minutes earlier than planned. Shorty wasted no time making preparations for what he had to do. From where they stood, they could plainly see light showing around parts of the huge rock.
Upon closer examination, Shorty found what he needed-just enough room to slide the explosive into place. It would be a tight squeeze with little room to spare, but by lying down and pushing the charge ahead of him he could do it. Getting down on his stomach, he carefully pushed the package into place leaving the fuse to trail back behind him.
He still had his hands on the canister when a shadow fell across the opening. If he were discovered now there would be no chance for escape and he knew it. He held his breath and waited, time standing still, the air hot and dry.
Then he heard it, the unmistakable caw of a crow. It was nothing more than a crow landing outside, blocking the light. Still, if the crow sensed his presence, he might give warning and make known Shorty’s whereabouts. One rifle bullet and Shorty would be blown to bits along with the Indians in back of him.
Funny how he had always like the birds, their black bodies glistening in the sun, their caws echoing in the morning’s still air like an angry wife scolding her husband for some wrongdoing, imagined or real. He’d always liked that sound. Now it might very well mean his death.
Shorty lay absolutely still, breathing through his mouth to prevent getting a whiff of dust in his nose causing a sneeze. After what seemed like hours, the crow took flight, and Shorty relaxed his tense and aching muscles.
He was just starting to pull back when his eye caught movement. He froze, not knowing what to expect. When his eyes adjusted, he was terrified by what he saw. There, not a foot away from his face, moving out of the hot morning sun, was the largest rattler he’d ever seen. If the snake struck, there would be no hope in avoiding its fangs and the certain and agonizing death that was to follow.
Sweat ran down Shorty’s forehead and into his eyes, making him want to blink, but he dare not blink no matter how much his eyes burned. Maybe, just maybe, the snake would find it too cool in the cave, move out, and look for a more comfortable place to spend the day. Shorty prayed.
Perspiration soaked his shirt as the snake moved an inch closer before stopping to test the air with its flickering tongue, the four-inch-wide head hovering just above the ground, dead eyes looking into Shorty’s like the demon of hell itself. In his heart, Shorty was suddenly aware he was about to die.
