Blood Valley (28 page)

Authors: William W. Johnstone

BOOK: Blood Valley

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Falcon laughed out loud, then looked at the Arabian, who through it all, had stood quietly.

“Well, horse,” Falcon said. “I hadn't planned on riding you, but I guess I've got no choice now. We've got a train to catch.”

Falcon took the saddle from the rental horse, put in on the Arabian, then mounted and rode off. Even in a ride like this, he could tell that this was some horse. Maybe not a ten-thousand dollar horse, but it was some horse.

Lowell Spivey, the guard at the maximum security blockhouse of the Yuma Territorial Prison, settled back in his chair and looked at the clock. It was 2:30 in the morning. Spivey had just switched to the night shift and was having a hard time adjusting to it. He was tired and wanted to go to sleep. And though he could close his eyes and grab a quick nap in the chair, it was frowned upon.

“Hey, Spivey?” one of the prisoners called.

“What do you want?” Spivey answered.

“You better come have a look at Cardis.”

“What's wrong with him?”

“I don't know, but he's back there moanin' like he's hurtin' real bad.”

“It can wait till mornin',” Spivey replied.

“Then if you ain't goin' to do nothin' about it, at least come back here and tell 'im to shut up. He's keepin' the rest of us awake.”

“Yeah,” one of the other prisoners shouted. “Or open up his cell and let one of us shut 'im up.”

A couple of the other prisoners laughed.

With a sigh, Spivey got up, opened the outer door, and walked down the cell-flanked corridor toward the cell that was Cardis'. When Spivey reached Cardis' cell, he saw the prisoner doubled up on his bunk, both arms wrapped across his stomach.

“What is it?” Spivey asked. “What's wrong with you?”

“I think it was somethin' I et at supper'.” Cardis grunted.

“Everybody else ate the same thing,” Spivey said. “How come you're the only one complaining?”

“Maybe 'cause I'm the only one that got sick,” Gilly Cardis replied.

“Yeah, well, try and keep quiet, will you?” Spivey asked. “You're keeping the others awake.”

“I'll try,” Cardis said. Suddenly he gasped, and grabbed his stomach again.

“All right, all right,” Spivey said, pulling out the keys. “Come on, I'll take you to the dispensary so the Doc can take a look at you.”

“Thanks,” Cardis said.

Spivey put the key in the lock, but before he opened the door, he looked at Cardis.

“Don't just sit there, you know what to do.”

“Yeah, I know what to do,” Cardis answered, though he didn't change from his doubled-over position.

“Well, do it, Cardis, I'm not going to stand here all night,” Spivey said.

“Don't get all in a huff, I'm doin' it,” Cardis grunted.

Cardis stood up and leaned against the wall. Spivey walked over to him, then pulled one of Cardis' arms into position and started to cuff his hands behind his back. Cardis let out a cry of pain. “I can't get my arms behind me,” he grunted. “It hurts my gut too much.”

“You know the rules. If I let you out of our cell at any time other than when it's authorized, you have to have your hands cuffed.”

“Can't you cuff 'em in front?”

Spivey hesitated for a long moment, then he sighed. “Alright, I'll cuff 'em in front. But I ain't supposed to be doin' this, so don't give me any trouble.”

Cardis held his hands together in front while Spivey put the manacles on him. The manacles were held together by a short length of chain so that when his wrists were bound, Cardis could hold his hands about twelve inches apart.

“Okay, tough guy, let's go,” Spivey said. “You lead the way; you know where the dispensary is.” He pushed Cardis roughly to get him started.

Procedure called for Spivey to inform one of the other guards any time he took a prisoner from the cell, but he didn't see any of the other guards around.

“Collins,” Spivey said to the prisoner who had told him about Cardis, “if you see Kane, tell 'im I took Cardis to the dispensary, will you?”

“Yeah, I'll tell 'im,” Collins called back from the dark of his cell.

“All right, you wanted to go to the dispensary, let's go,” Spivey said, poking Cardis with his nightstick.

“I ain't the one asked to go to the dispensary,” Cardis said.

“No, you didn't. You was just gonna lie in there an' moan all night. Come on, let's go.” He jabbed Cardis with his nightstick again, this time in the small of the back, hard enough to make the killer gasp.

They left the cell block and stepped out into the still, dark night. Cardis looked up at the sky. It was a desert-clear night, with stars so bright that he felt as if he could almost reach up and pull one down.

Cardis's eyes scanned the prison yard, going immediately to the guard positions on top of the wall. None of the guards were watching. He grasped the chain with his fingers and waited until he and Spivey were around the corner from the dispensary.

“Ohh!” he suddenly said, stopping and bending over, almost as if he were about to fall.

“What is it now?” Spivey asked, the tone of his voice reflecting his irritation with the prisoner.

“My belly's on fire,” Cardis gasped.

“Well, the quicker you get to the dispensary, the quicker you can get somethin' done about it,” Spivey said, taking a step closer to him. “Come on, let's go.”

Whirling around quickly, and using the small length of chain as a club, Cardis hit the guard and Spivey went down.

Cardis's rifled through Spivey's pockets until he found the key. Then, unlocking the cuffs, he put on Spivey's hat and coat and started toward the front gate, walking as confidently as if he fully expected the guard to open the gate for him.

Cardis' bold move paid off. The guard at the gate barely looked up from his newspaper as he pulled the lever to unlock the gate. With a little wave, Cardis, who kept his head down for the whole time, simply stepped through. He continued to walk slowly until he disappeared into the dark; then he broke into a run.

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