The Loner: The Blood of Renegades (17 page)
Chapter 31
Ollie brought the buckboard to a skidding halt at the edge of the salt flats, which stretched out ahead seemingly to infinity. The mountains on the far side of the flats where the Valley of the Outcast Saints was located were completely invisible because of the dust storm.
“Ollie, Arturo, unhitch the horses and let ’em go!” Conrad ordered as he hopped down from the vehicle.
“Let them go?” Kingman repeated. “You’ve lost your mind! You can’t mean to walk across the flats. It’s certain death, especially in a storm like this!”
“We’re not walking. Ollie, once the team is unhitched, lift the tongue and prop it against the front of the buckboard. I’ll tie it in place. The rest of you, watch for Leatherwood. If you see anybody coming, let out a yell.”
Ollie and Arturo unhitched a couple horses. As they worked on the others, Ollie said, “By golly, I think I know what you’ve got in mind, Mr. Browning. We’re gonna fix us a wind wagon!”
“That’s right. We’ll nail those boards across the tongue to give us something to fasten that canvas to, and it’ll be our sail.”
“A wind wagon!” Kingman said. “I’ve heard about such things, but I didn’t know they were real!”
“They’re real, all right,” Conrad said over the howling gale. And he hoped they worked. He had seen pictures of them in books, but that was all.
He climbed onto the buckboard and tied a rope to the top of the tongue after Ollie lifted it into place. Then he ran the rope to the back of the buckboard and fastened it there as well. They would have no rudder, so they’d have to go wherever the wind took them, but it would be away from Juniper Canyon and that was all that mattered.
The wind caught the canvas when Conrad and Ollie tried to lift it into place, and they almost lost their grip on it. Part of it was free and popping madly before they gathered it back in.
“The rest of you grab the buckboard!” Conrad shouted. “We don’t want it taking off on us as soon as the wind fills the sail.”
He had sailed on Boston Harbor as a young man, but that was a long time ago. A lifetime ago, in many ways. He realized they should have left the tongue down on the ground and nailed the sail to it there, then raised it, but it was too late for that. He and Ollie kept struggling, and finally they had the sail tied securely in place. The buckboard shuddered as the wind pushed it forward. The men, along with Selena and the other women, held it back.
“All right, everybody on!” Conrad ordered. “Be quick about it! This thing wants to get up and go!”
“Women first!” Kingman said. He boosted Selena into the back of the vehicle as the other women clambered on. Their weight helped, but at the same time the men had to hold the buckboard back by themselves.
“Go!” Conrad told the other men. “Get on there now!”
He set his feet, holding on to one rear wheel while Ollie held the other. Kingman and the others climbed onto the buckboard. Conrad felt the strain on his muscles and knew he and Ollie couldn’t hold it much longer.
“You next, Mr. Browning!” Ollie called. “I got it!”
“Together!” Conrad said. “We go together! On three . . . one . . . two . . .
three!”
three!”
Conrad boosted himself up. The wind wagon leaped ahead as the sail billowed. Kingman grabbed Conrad’s arm to steady him and finish the job of hauling him in.
“Ollie!” Arturo yelled.
Conrad jerked his head around and saw that Ollie had made a grab for the buckboard but missed. He was running along in its wake as it started out onto the flats, but he wouldn’t be able to keep up for more than a few seconds.
A length of rope had been left over when Conrad finished tying the tongue into place. He snatched it and flung it toward Ollie, who made a desperate lunge and got one hand on the rope. “Hang on!” Conrad called to him as Ollie managed to get hold of the rope with his other hand.
He acted a little like an anchor, slowing the wind wagon as he ran behind it. At that moment, riders loomed out of the swirling dust at the edge of the flats and opened fire. Conrad was willing to bet Jackson Leatherwood was one of them. Bullets sang overhead as the pursuers opened fire.
As Ollie struggled to run behind the buckboard, he panted, “I gotta let go! I’m holdin’ you back!”
“No, hang on!” Conrad yelled. “Come on, a little closer!”
Ollie was running so fast Conrad hoped his feet weren’t staying in contact with the salt crust long enough to cause it to break into sharp pieces. While he hauled on the rope, pulling Ollie closer, Kingman and the other two men returned the avenging angels’ fire with their rifles.
Arturo crowded up beside Conrad and took hold of the rope, throwing his strength into the effort. Conrad told Arturo, “Hold on to the rope! I’m going to try to get him!”
Arturo nodded. Conrad slid to the very back of the buckboard and extended his arm toward Ollie. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Selena and the other women had joined Arturo on the rope. Between them, they pulled Ollie a little closer, and suddenly Conrad closed his fingers around Ollie’s wrist. He locked his hand in an iron grip, and the muscles in his arm and shoulder stood out like bunches of steel cable as he dragged Ollie close enough to grab his other arm.
“Now jump!” Conrad yelled as he hauled back with all his strength.
Ollie drove forward, and Conrad fell backward as Ollie landed halfway in the back of the buckboard. Conrad sought purchase with his boots and pulled some more. Other hands joined in the effort and Ollie slid the rest of the way into the back of the buckboard.
Breathing hard from his efforts, Conrad asked, “Are you . . . are you all right . . . Ollie?”
“Yeah, I . . . reckon,” the big man replied. He looked around, a little wild-eyed. “Oh, Lordy! What are we gonna do now?”
“Go where the wind takes us,” Conrad said.
The wind wagon was moving breathtakingly fast. The sail was full and straining at the makeshift mast formed by the buckboard’s tongue. The ropes holding the tongue and the canvas in place hummed and thrummed like musical instruments from the strain placed on them as the wind wagon veered from side to side at the whim of the gale. Everyone hunkered down and held on.
When Conrad looked back, he couldn’t see the edge of the flats anymore. It was like they sailed over an endless white ocean, only there were no waves.
He felt like he had swallowed and breathed in a bucketful of dirt. The women were coughing and choking, and the men didn’t seem to be in much better shape.
“Tear pieces off your shirts and rig bandannas for yourselves and the women,” he told them. “We need to keep some of that dust out.”
Once they had done that, they seemed to breathe a little easier. Kingman crawled over beside Conrad and said through his makeshift mask, “Do you have any idea what direction we’re going?”
“Not really,” Conrad replied with a shake of his head. “The wind was blowing away from Juniper Canyon when we left, but it’s been shifting around all day.”
“So we may end up right back where we started!”
“No, the wind hasn’t turned around that much. We’re still moving away from the canyon, but I don’t know what angle we’re taking across the flats. I don’t expect to come out right in front of the trail to the pass, though.”
“It’ll take Leatherwood a couple days to get to the pass, coming around the long way.”
Conrad nodded. “That’s what I’m counting on. That’ll give us time to get ready for them.”
“Hissop will send everybody he’s got after us this time,” Kingman said. “He’ll probably come along himself.”
“More than likely.”
A grin stretched across Kingman’s face. “You know, you’re a little loco, Browning, but this was a good idea. I’m sorry we got off to such a bad start.”
“You mean that business about trying to have Arturo and me killed?” Conrad asked with a wry smile. “Forget it.”
“No, I won’t. And I won’t forget what you’ve done for us, no matter how long Selena and I live. Of course, that may not be very long.”
There was no way to tell how fast the wind wagon was going or how long its route across the salt flats would turn out to be, but Conrad thought they ought to be at least halfway to the other side. The vehicle continued rolling along, covering the ground seemingly as fast as a stagecoach could have.
Suddenly, the buckboard lurched and slowed, then jumped ahead again. “What was that?” Conrad asked as he looked behind them but didn’t see any sort of obstacle that would have held them up.
“We hit a soft spot!” Kingman replied. “There are little tanks where water has collected under the crust of dried salt, and when it breaks there’s muck under it. The crust cracked back there but the wheel didn’t break all the way through.”
Conrad hadn’t known about that. “Are there a lot of those spots? And how big do they get?”
“They’re scattered here and there,” Kingman said. “I don’t know how many there are, but they can be hundreds of yards across.”
That was a new worry. Conrad didn’t have long to brood about it. He heard an ominous crackling sound, followed by a sudden jolt as the buckboard’s front wheels broke all the way through the crust and sank deep into the salty mud underneath. The sudden stop made the rear of the vehicle fly up into the air. Men yelled and women screamed as they were thrown clear. With a rending crash, the buckboard went on over and landed upside down.
Conrad didn’t see or hear the wreck. He had slammed into the ground with such stunning impact darkness swallowed him whole.
Chapter 32
Conrad had the feeling he hadn’t been unconscious too long. His mouth was filled with the taste of salt and dirt. He lifted his head, spat out the awful gunk, and looked around.
The overturned wagon lay several yards away. Bodies were scattered around it. None of them were moving, but as Conrad tried to get to his feet, several of the victims of the wreck began to stir.
Conrad spotted Arturo. With the muck dragging at his feet, he reached his friend’s side as fast as he could and dropped to his knees. Arturo lay on his back, so he wasn’t in danger of drowning in the mud. He moved around a little and groaned. Conrad got an arm around his shoulders and lifted him into a sitting position. “Are you all right? Anything busted?”
“Just every bone in my body, from the feel of it,” Arturo replied. He waved a hand. “No, no, I’m fine. See to the others.”
Ollie pushed himself upright. “What in the world happened?”
“The buckboard’s wheels broke through the crust into a sink hole and it turned over,” Conrad explained. “Let’s check on everybody.”
Within a couple minutes it was clear no one had been badly hurt in the crash. A few bumps and bruises were the extent of the injuries.
Conrad examined the wind wagon and saw that it would never work again. The tongue had snapped, and the canvas had come loose and blown away.
“We’re stuck out here,” Selena said, panic edging into her voice.
Conrad looked at the overturned buckboard. “We might be able to bust up some of the boards and tie them to our feet—make salt shoes out of them instead of snow shoes. If we spread out the weight like that, we might not break through the crust.”
Kingman nodded slowly. “That might work,” he admitted. “But which direction would we go? If we start out trying to walk through this storm, we’re liable to wind up wandering in circles.”
“We’re going to have to wait for it to blow over,” Conrad said. “That way we can see where we are.”
“And that gives Hissop and Leatherwood more time to catch up to us.” Kingman sighed. “But you’re right. Waiting is the only thing we can do. I just hope it doesn’t take too long.”
“In the meantime,” Conrad suggested, “let’s set the buckboard up on its side so it blocks the wind. We might be a little more comfortable behind it.”
The men lifted and heaved and wrestled the buckboard into position, then everyone huddled on the leeward side of it. Night was settling down, earlier than usual due to the dust in the air. Shadows gathered quickly, and once the last of the feeble sunlight faded, utter darkness closed in. The dust in the air completely blocked any light from the moon and stars. Conrad couldn’t see his hand in front of his face.
Despite the terrible thirst and hunger that plagued them, exhaustion was too powerful to overcome. One by one they dozed off. Conrad felt Arturo’s head leaning against his shoulder and heard the soft snores coming from his friend. He tried to stay awake, thinking someone needed to remain on guard, but it was hopeless. His eyes were too heavy, and he succumbed to sleep.
Conrad jerked awake. For a second he thought someone was screaming, and that sent his hand groping for the gun on his hip. Then he realized what he heard were cries of laughter. The sun was beating brightly against his eyelids, and he forced his eyes open, squinting against the glare that came from the salt flats all around them.
Kingman was the one laughing. “Look!” he cried when he saw that Conrad was awake. He flung out a hand to point. “Look over there!”
The edge of the salt flats to the west wasn’t more than three hundred yards away. Where it ended, the rocky slopes of the foothills leading up to the mountains began. In the distance, possibly two or three miles north of where they were, lay the pass. Conrad could see it from where he was.
“We almost made it all the way,” Kingman babbled as the others came awake. “The wind wagon brought us almost completely across the flats. We can walk that far!”
Conrad pushed himself to his feet and squinted up at the sky, which was a beautiful, crystal clear blue. The storm had blown over completely. It had left some salt heaped up at the edge of the flats, but otherwise there was no sign it had ever taken place.
“Gather up the guns,” Conrad told the others. “Hissop and Leatherwood are at least a day behind us, but they have horses and we don’t. It’ll take us a while to walk to the valley, and then we have to get ready to defend it.”
A bleak expression replaced the grin on Kingman’s face. “I’m going to blow up the pass. The more I think about it, the more I see that’s the only answer.”
“But, Dan,” Selena said, “that won’t stop Father Agony and Leatherwood in the long run. They’ll just find some other way to get at us.”
“Not if they’re in the pass when it blows up,” Conrad said.
Kingman shot a sharp glance at him. “You mean lure Hissop and all the avenging angels in there, then drop an avalanche on top of them?”
“That’s the only way to stop them for good. Otherwise, Selena’s right. They’ll find some other way to get into your valley, and they’ll keep trying to kill you. Hissop can’t back down now, not and hope to have his followers stay with him.”
“That’s murder,” Selena said.
“No, it’s self-defense,” Kingman insisted. “If they’re trying to get to us to kill us, they deserve whatever happens to them. That’s just common sense.”
Arturo said, “I believe that’s correct. People can’t be expected to sit back and do nothing while a bunch of fanatics who want to destroy them plot their demise. Taking action to prevent that is the only sensible course.”
“What’s going to happen if Hissop and Leatherwood are gone?” Conrad asked. “Will the people who are left behind in Juniper Canyon still try to come after you?”
Kingman shook his head. “I can’t guarantee it, but I don’t think so. Hissop is the one who holds everything together, forcing people to do what he wants. Leatherwood is his enforcer. Neither of them has ever been all that well liked. People are just afraid of them, that’s all. Afraid of crossing a self-proclaimed prophet, sure, but even more afraid of Leatherwood’s gun.”
“Then you’ll have at least a chance to build lives for yourselves in the valley. Some others may even come and join you.”
Kingman put his arm around Selena. “A chance is all anybody ever really gets.”
Some of the guns had been fouled by the salty mud. The weapons could be cleaned properly once the fugitives got back to the valley. The salt crust broke through several times while they were walking off the flats, but the distance was short enough no real harm was done to anybody’s feet.
Once they were off the flats, they set a fast pace, but nobody was used to walking and soon everyone’s feet and legs ached. They pushed on anyway, and no one complained too much.
After all, they had come through hell to get away from Father Agony and Juniper Canyon, and the passage to their deliverance was in sight, the pass that waited for them up ahead.
It was the middle of the day before they reached it. Everyone was staggering from pain and weariness as they stumbled through the pass and paused at the top of the trail leading into the green oasis of the Valley of the Outcast Saints. Paradise Valley, Kingman had talked about renaming it, and Conrad thought the name suited it. The place looked as close to a piece of pure paradise as any he had ever seen on earth.
He turned his head and looked over his shoulder, knowing that somewhere out there, riders were thundering inexorably after them, bringing death and destruction.
You couldn’t have a paradise without a hell to counterbalance it, Conrad thought. In that remote corner of Utah, those two things were about to come crashing together once again.
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