Slocum's Silver Burden (14 page)

Slocum saw the shadow lengthen and then turn thin as Montague rode away fast. The sound of hoofbeats reached him a few seconds later.

“What are we going to do?” Tamara asked. “He knows we're on him like flies on shit.”

Slocum looked over his shoulder and wondered about her. Most times she presented herself as a high-class lady. A thief, true, and one capable of shooting down a man without too many qualms, but she spoke well and comported herself with just a touch of haughtiness to show she was better than everyone around her. Then she said something like she just had.

“We can't let him ride off. We'd never find him if he decided to hide out.” Slocum was still galled by how Montague had abandoned the wagon and eluded his best tracking.

He urged the tired mare to a fast walk. To trot or even gallop was out of the question with two riders. Slocum considered asking Tamara to drop off—or even knocking her off—to go after Montague. The idea disappeared when they reached the bend in the canyon. A loud screech of utter terror echoed back to them.

“What made that sound?” Tamara spoke in a low voice that quavered with emotion. “I've never heard anything like it.”

“A horse,” Slocum said. He urged the mare to more speed. The canyon opened onto another steep drop-off.

Two horses neighed and backed from the verge. One was Tamara's horse, still saddled but without the rider.

“Where's Montague?”

“Get your horse. And the other one,” Slocum said.

He dismounted, secured the reins with a rock, and went to the top of the cliff. The story cut into the dirt and rock told him what he would find. For whatever reason, Montague had either been pulled off Tamara's horse or had tried to jump over to ride one of his bareback.

Slocum peered over the edge. Darkness hid most of the jagged rock on the wall, but a single ray of sunlight sneaked through to spotlight a dead horse and mangled rider eighty feet below.

As Tamara came over, he said, “I found Montague.”

He tried to keep her from looking but failed. She let out a gasp and turned to bury her face in his shoulder. He held her. She wasn't crying, but from the way she shook, he knew what went through her mind. That could have been them below.

Instead she said, “Now we'll never find the silver.”

“Do you think he has a map to the silver?” Tamara pushed back and looked up at Slocum. “Jack had one.”

“For all the good that did us. From what you said about Jackson, he needed it to find where he hid it, getting everything turned around the way he did. Montague didn't have any reason to make a map, for himself or anyone else.”

“The other two robbers might have needed to know where he hid all their shares.”

Slocum shook his head. None of that made sense after seeing Montague.

“The three weren't partners, not like that. Montague was on his own. Drury and Baldy might be pulling on the same yoke, but Jackson, like Montague, was on his own.”

“I suppose you're right. Where does that leave us?” Tamara tried to look back over the brink but the sun had sunk lower, plunging the entire ravine below into deep shadow. “He
might
have made a map.”

“I'm not going down there to find out,” Slocum said. “But that doesn't mean Montague didn't steal your horse and ride toward the spot where he did hide his share from the robbery.”

“It's around here?” Tamara looked into the gathering darkness. “Where?”

“Not in the ravine with Montague,” Slocum said. “He had no way of hiding the silver there. It'd make no sense to just dump it over the side where anyone could see it.”

“It would have shone like the sun itself,” Tamara agreed. “So it's up here?”

“There are caves in the mountains. The canyon approaching this point had crevices where he could stuff a lot of silver bars.” Slocum slowly turned, keeping his arm around Tamara's waist to move her from the edge of the precipice. “Farther along this trail,” Slocum said, his voice going low.

“Let's look! Come on, John. We can find it. You've got to be right.”

Tamara pulled free and hurried to her horse. She mounted and set off, not waiting for him. He knew finding where Montague had hidden his silver in the dark was nigh on impossible. He retrieved his mare but only walked it, tugging occasionally on the reins to keep the horse from munching at patches of succulent grass. In less than ten minutes he found Tamara, sitting on her horse and sobbing.

“I don't know what to do, John. It's got to be here somewhere. You said so yourself. But where? Where?”

He got her off the horse and said softly, “We'll find it in the morning. We don't have a ghost of a chance in the dark.”

Doubts rose they would have any better chance after sunup. But that was all they could do unless giving up was in the cards. For Slocum, it wasn't. One look at how distraught Tamara was over not finding the silver told him they were not riding back to San Francisco anytime soon.

*   *   *

“It's been hours, John. We're no closer to finding the silver than we were this morning.”

He realized they had been following the canyon and had curved back toward the railroad tracks. That spoke to how rugged the region was and how difficult it was not to get lost in the winding, intersecting canyons. The twin steel ribbons clung tenaciously to the side of a mountain with only occasional widening for meadows or narrow canyons leading deep into the range. As frustrating as it was when he saw they had come full circle and returned to the tracks, it also heartened him. None of the robbers had planned ahead and knew less about the terrain than he did. When they had to hide the bulk of their ill-gotten gains, they took the first place that they found because they hadn't brought freight wagons—Tamara hadn't realized the size of the shipment and neither had the gang. Jackson had been the smartest of the robbers, from what Slocum could tell, and his success in hiding came more from his disability than cleverness.

“Montague rode where he did because he'd stashed his cut along that trail,” Slocum said. “We ought to go back along it and—”

He clamped his mouth shut when gunshots rang out.

“What's happening, John?” Tamara reached for her small pistol, then hesitated when she saw a half-dozen men riding along the tracks, coming over the summit. The lead rider wore a badge pinned to his chest.

“We haven't done anything. Don't rile the posse,” he cautioned.

He touched the papers in his coat pocket detailing how he worked for the Central California Railroad. Unless Collingswood had put out the word that he had fired him, Slocum knew this would carry some weight.

“Who're you?” The deputy halted his posse and eyed Slocum and Tamara.

Slocum allowed a tiny smile to come to his lips. The lawman wasted no time on Slocum but gave Tamara an appraising look. She shifted in the saddle and graced the man with a hint of ankle to keep him diverted.

“Why, Marshal, we're Mr. Collingswood's assistants. He's vice president of this railroad, you know.”

“We know. He's the one what put out a big reward for the capture of the robbers. You prove you're who you say?”

“How many of the train robbers were ladies?” Tamara gave a light laugh meant to disarm any suspicion. “You don't believe I'm one of those thugs, do you, Marshal?”

“I'm only a deputy, and no, ma'am, I don't. What about your companion?”

“I've got a warrant signed by Mr. Collingswood,” Slocum said. “You want to see it?”

The deputy did. Slocum slowly pulled the now tattered sheet of paper from his coat pocket, aware than two of the posse had hands on their six-shooters and the rest watched him with the same attention they'd give a coiled diamondback. He rode closer and let the lawman read it. The man's lips moved as he worked down the page, but when Slocum saw him mouthing “David Collingswood,” he knew the document still carried some weight.

“Looks all right to me,” the deputy said, handing back the sheet to Slocum. “You scouting around for the outlaws, too?”

“Tell me, Marshal—excuse me, Deputy—have you encountered any other specials sent by Mr. Collingswood?” Tamara batted her eyes at the man.

Slocum appreciated how he might as well not even exist. It gave him anonymity if the deputy was the kind to leaf through wanted posters. Slocum's face appeared on enough for him to be recognizable. But more than this, it gave him a chance to let his mare edge closer to the others in the posse so he could hear what they were whispering among themselves.

They fell silent as Slocum came near. He asked, “You see any trace of the robbers?”

“None,” said one man, small, intense, and with the look of a bounty hunter. He carried two pistols slung in cross-draw holsters, a bandolier crammed with ammunition, and a large-caliber Sharps rifle tucked into his saddle scabbard. The usual member of a posse recruited from a saloon wouldn't be this heavily armed.

“I spotted a couple fellows not too long back.” Slocum described Riley and Harry. “From the way they skulked around, well, it was mighty suspicious.”

“Ain't seen them,” the small man said.

“You ought to get on back to Frisco,” the deputy called to Slocum, breaking off what had turned into an intimate discussion with Tamara. “It can get mighty dangerous if we corner those owlhoots.” He turned back to Tamara and said, “We wouldn't want anything to happen to you.”

“Why, no, Deputy, we wouldn't.” She graced him with a winning smile. “Why, you might see fit to take me to the Union Club if you earn that reward. I'd like that.”

“So would I, ma'am, so would I.” The deputy cleared his throat and got his posse trotting back upslope toward the summit.

Tamara waved to the man when he turned around to see if she was watching.

“We've got to hurry, John,” she said, still smiling and waving. “The deputy said at least one more posse had been sent out from Fremont.”

“I asked about Riley and Harry, but they hadn't spotted them. I'm more worried that Collingswood ordered more specials to cover the area.” Slocum chewed on his lower lip as he studied the terrain downslope where the robbery had occurred.

“They're riding around, making a whale of a lot of noise and feeling good about being paid a dollar a day,” she said. “They want to return a week's pay richer with a story to brag on.”

Slocum said nothing about the bounty hunter riding with the posse. Most of the deputized citizens of San Francisco might think they rode out with visions of an easy five dollars promised them. Ten, if they took their time. But the intense bounty hunter had other game in his sights. He wanted both the gang of thieves and the silver. He wanted to hit the jackpot because that was what he did for a living.

“Montague wasn't sure where he was riding when he stole your horse,” Slocum said. “Not exactly, but he knew the general direction. When we spooked him, we thought he'd stopped to ambush us. What if he'd stopped to fetch the silver?”

“We rode around in a circle and came back. We should have backtracked. John, that must be it!” She bent over and tried to kiss him but their horses refused to cooperate. Her kiss missed by a fraction of an inch. She laughed, then galloped away.

Slocum trailed behind, keeping up the best he could. His mare wasn't as fast as Tamara's horse, and he hung back to see if her reckless rush caused anyone to take notice. The men hunting for the silver were likely to take a shot at her. Slocum wanted to be in a position to defend her if that happened.

They left the railroad tracks and cut through the canyon. It took less time now to reach the canyon's bend than before since they weren't wary of Montague spotting them before he reached his cache.

“Wait up,” Slocum called. “Tamara, wait.”

“What is it, John? I want to hunt before the sun goes down. We had that problem yesterday.”

“Someone's up there. Listen.”

Rocks fell in a small cascade down the side of the mountain. The echo reached them in time for Tamara to check her headlong advance and let Slocum catch up. He touched the ebony butt of his pistol, then decided his rifle might be a better choice. Pulling it from its sheath, he motioned for her to stay as he explored around the bend in the canyon.

Barely had he rounded the sharp angle than he saw two horses tethered and impatiently tugging, trying to get away from the dust and commotion higher on the slope.

Slocum swung his rifle up, only to find he was in Riley's sights.

“Did you find something?” Slocum called. “The silver from the shipment?”

“Maybe we did and maybe we didn't,” the special said. “Whatever we did, it's all ours.”

“If it's the stolen silver bars, it belongs to the Central California Railroad,” Slocum said. He saw Harry move around a rock. His rifle came up to cover Slocum, too.

Slocum knew he was a better shot than either man. Even outnumbered, he could take out one and have a decent shot at the other before they hit him. His problem lay in them being on solid ground while his mare crow-hopped around under him. Then the dilemma of whether to shoot or back off got worse. Tamara joined him.

“They found it, didn't they? It's those two from Newburg.”

“Well, lookee there,” Riley said. “If it ain't the lady from town what engaged us so entertaining-like.”

“They'll open fire if we don't back off,” Slocum said in a low voice, but Tamara paid no attention.

“You two were hired by Mr. Collingswood. I know because I approved your employment. I am his personal assistant.”

“You a secretary?” Harry stepped out to get a better look at her.

“I am,” Tamara said. “I will put in a good word with not only Mr. Collingswood but the president of the Central California Railroad, as well. I am well known to both men.”

Riley and Harry moved closer and exchanged a few hot words. Riley finally turned back and called, “Why don't you and this galoot head on back to San Francisco? Me and Harry will see to assembling the loot and returning it to the depot.”

“All four of us can make the work go ever so much faster,” Tamara said. Before Slocum could protest, she whispered to him, “Leave them alone with the silver and they'll steal it. Dammit, it's
ours!
”

“Let them pack it up, then we can take it,” Slocum said.

He was immediately overruled when Riley motioned for them to ride closer. Slocum worried the specials wanted them where the killing shots wouldn't be as difficult. Neither of them had the look of a decent marksman.

Slocum was keyed up and jumpy. Tamara rode confidently. All he could think of was either of the specials taking it into his head to kill both of them and remove any chance that the silver had to be returned.

“Is this the share of the loot hidden by Pierre Montague?”

Both specials stared at Tamara.

“He wasn't the one we was huntin'.”

“You lost both Baldy and Drury,” Slocum said, guessing what had happened. “How did you come on the cache?”

“We're both skilled trackers. We seen rocks what had been moved and—”

“Shut up, Harry,” said Riley. “Don't go givin' away our secret skills.”

“Yes, I see what you mean,” Tamara said. “You two were clever to notice how those rocks were piled in front of the cave. Why, less skilled scouts than you would have ridden past, thinking it was only the remnant of an avalanche.” She cast a sidelong accusing look at Slocum.

“Is it the entire shipment or only a quarter?” Slocum asked.

He should have kept his mouth shut. Both men turned their rifles trained on him. He rested his hand on his six-gun, glad now for the diminished distance. Even against two rifles, he put more faith in his trusty Colt Navy. It was about the best six-shooter for getting off the first accurate shot. Take out one—Riley was nearest—and the other would hesitate. He doubted either of these men had ever been in combat with rifles firing and artillery erupting. A shot would cause the surviving man to jump.

“Yes, sir, that is one smart example of hunting,” came a cold voice. “I compliment you boys on finding the stolen silver.”