“Not a thing,” he agreed. They could deal with what would happen later once they were out of here.
“Of course, we don’t know if Caballo Rojo will allow us to leave,” Elizabeth pointed out.
She was right. That could be a problem.
So the thing to do was tend to it right now, Matt decided.
He took her arm and said, “Let’s go talk to him.”
They walked along the creek toward Caballo Rojo’s hogan. With the air still holding that hint of coolness and the sun not blazing down in the canyon like it would later in the day, this would have been a pleasant moment if not for the fact that Matt was worried about what the Navajo headman would say.
Caballo Rojo was sitting outside his hogan, working with a bit of silver, fashioning it into some small piece of jewelry. He looked up for a second as Matt and Elizabeth approached, but otherwise he didn’t acknowledge that they were there.
“Caballo Rojo, I’d like to talk to you,” Matt said. “I know you understand me, even without Juan Pablo here to translate for me. I want to thank you for your hospitality, for seeing that I was taken care of while I was recovering from my injuries.”
Caballo Rojo grunted but still didn’t look up again.
“Now that my wounds are healing, I think it’s time for me to leave,” Matt went on. “I’d like to have my horse, my guns, and the rest of my gear returned to me.”
No response from the headman. Matt and Elizabeth traded worried glances. This wasn’t going the way they had hoped.
But there was nothing they could do except go ahead with their plan. Matt said, “Miss Fleming is going to go with me, to help me in case my injuries trouble me.”
Caballo Rojo finally lifted his head. He shook it slowly from side to side in stubborn refusal.
Elizabeth said, “Do you mean you don’t want me to go with Mr. Bodine, Caballo Rojo?”
From behind them, a harsh voice said, “Caballo Rojo means that neither of you will leave this canyon.”
Matt turned sharply and saw Juan Pablo standing there. The Navajo had one of the single-shot rifles in his hands, and the weapon was trained on Matt’s belly.
Behind Juan Pablo stood three more men, one of them armed with another rifle, the other two with bows and arrows. They glared menacingly at Matt and Elizabeth.
Juan Pablo smiled, though, the first smile Matt had seen on the Navajo’s face.
It wasn’t a pretty expression.
“What’s going on here?” Matt demanded. He looked over his shoulder at the headman. “Caballo Rojo—”
“I have already spoken to Caballo Rojo,” Juan Pablo broke in. “I have told him how you plan to go to the settlement and lead the white men back here so they can attack us and wipe out all of our people.”
“That’s not true!” Elizabeth cried. “Caballo Rojo, you must believe me. I’ve never done anything except try to help your people, and Mr. Bodine would never betray you after you helped him the way you did.”
“Lies, all lies,” Juan Pablo said with the calm self-assurance of a man who knows that he has already won. “Like all the other whites, you seek only the destruction of the Diné. But your treachery will bring about only your own destruction.”
He lifted the rifle.
“No, you will never leave this canyon ... alive.”
Chapter 28
The trail of the rustled cattle continued to angle toward the canyon where the members of Caballo Rojo’s clan made their home. Sam grew more worried as he saw that.
Was it possible that the Navajo really were to blame for stealing that stock and killing Boyd’s punchers?
Sam didn’t want to believe that was true, but he couldn’t deny the evidence of his own eyes ... especially when the line of cliffs where the canyon was located came into view.
As he and the other riders came closer, however, the tracks began to turn more to the north. Relief went through Sam as he realized that the trail was going to lead past the entrance to the Navajo canyon.
This was the closest he had been to the place since leaving several days earlier, and he couldn’t help but wonder how Matt was doing. It would be easy enough to ride over there and see. It wouldn’t take long.
That is, it would have been easy if he and Stovepipe and Wilbur weren’t prisoners of the Devil’s Pitchfork crew.
As it was, Sam knew that Pete Lowry would be only too happy to gun them down if it looked like they were trying to escape, and so would some of the other men.
He wasn’t sure he wanted Boyd and his men to know those Navajo hogans were hidden in the canyon, anyway. That might cause trouble for Caballo Rojo and his people in the future.
So as the cliffs fell behind them, Sam felt mingled relief and worry. Relief that the trail of the stolen cattle hadn’t led straight to the Navajo, and worry about Matt.
He wasn’t sure why that had started nagging at him, but the bond that existed between the blood brothers sometimes enabled them to sense when the other one was in trouble.
Sam hoped that wasn’t the case now.
“That looks like hellacious country ahead of us,” John Henry Boyd commented. “I don’t reckon I’ve ever been up this far before. Can’t be far to the Sweetwater Hills.” He pointed to a range of low but rugged peaks with sides deeply seamed by canyons and crevices. “That must be them.”
Pete Lowry said nervously, “Boss, I’ve heard that those hills are haunted.”
It struck Sam as odd that such a sentiment would be expressed by the hard-nosed segundo. Even the toughest hombre could be touched by superstition, though.
A harsh laugh came from Boyd.
“Ghosts didn’t steal those cattle or ventilate those two boys, Pete. If they’re in those hills, the varmints who took ’em there are flesh and blood, and bullets will put holes in ’em. We’re not turning back now.”
“Never said anything about turnin’ back,” Lowry responded in surly tones. “Just tellin’ you what I’ve heard, that’s all.”
The trail grew dim, and once again Sam and Stovepipe had to search for it. This time it was the tall, lanky cowboy who found the tracks they were looking for.
There was no doubt now that they were headed straight for the Sweetwater Hills.
“Looks like there’s a heap of places to hide in those badlands,” Stovepipe said.
“Then it’s a good thing we’ve got you with us,” Lowry said. “Since you’re one of the gang, you can tell us how to find the rest of your bunch.”
Wilbur said, “I thought it was the Navajo who were responsible for what happened. Now you’re sayin’ it’s a gang of white outlaws? Sort of changin’ your tune, ain’t you, Lowry?”
Lowry snarled at him.
“Give me five minutes with a Bowie knife and I’d get the truth outta you, you short-growed little runt.”
Wilbur’s face flushed with anger as he said, “Blast it, I’m not that short! It just looks like it because I hang around with this beanpole here.”
He jerked a thumb at the grinning Stovepipe.
“Beanpole, eh? I ain’t sure I like that name. I’m just gettin’ used to Stovepipe.”
“Pipe down, all three of you,” Boyd warned. “Two Wolves, what do you think?”
“Your cattle are probably stashed in some canyon up there in the hills, all right,” Sam said. “And it won’t be easy to find.”
“You don’t know anything about it?”
Sam shook his head.
“I’m just following a trail, like you.”
“I’ve got a hunch you’re telling the truth.” Boyd silenced Lowry’s protest with a look before the segundo could even say anything. “Pete, give ’em back their guns.”
“Boss, that’s a mistake—” Lowry began.
“If it is, it’s my mistake to make!” Boyd said. “I still give the orders in this bunch.”
Lowry nodded.
“I never said you didn’t, John Henry.” With obvious reluctance, he turned in the saddle and motioned to the men who had taken charge of the weapons belonging to Sam, Stovepipe, and Wilbur. “Give ’em back their guns.”