Fisher said, “Well, in spite of my curiosity about that load of ice that burro’s carrying, I’m willing to tell you about the butte because it is a work of nature. A marvel. At one time, this very land that we are riding on was as high as any of the tops of those buttes you can see.”
Longarm said, “Oh, come on, Fisher. Be serious.”
“It is a fact. It is a testimony that granite and quartz are harder than sandstone.”
“Hell, everybody knows that.”
“Well, then you ought to know how a butte was formed. Millions of years ago, notice I said millions of years ago, all this territory that we are looking at was flat.”
“Bullshit.”
“No bullshit to it. This territory was all the same height. Then, through all those millions of years, through wind, rain, and erosion, caprock of quartz and granite covered those buttes and protected the sandstone beneath it. When the wind and the rain swept the sandstone and the limestone and the dirt and the sand away from parts that were not protected by a caprock of hard rock, the buttes were formed. They were not formed so much as they withstood the ravages of nature.”
Longarm looked over at him. “You’ve been reading those books again, haven’t you, Fish? I’ve warned you about that. Not only will it weaken your shooting eye, it will also put wild ideas into your head. I recommend that you take up drinking and give up those books.”
“Say what you will, my friend, but the butte is a lonely sentinel to the durability of the caprock. While all the rest of this material that used to be here was being washed and blown away, that caprock of hard quartz and granite protected each one of those buttes. So there they stand. They didn’t rise up, they simply would not go down.”
Longarm asked, “Are you to have me believe that all this dirt and sand and limestone and the other softer rocks were washed away and blown away to somewhere else?”
“I am willing for you to believe that.”
“Well, you’re going to have to tell me where it went to because I haven’t seen any of it piled up.”
“Ahhh … but you weren’t here millions of years ago to see it redistributed. You haven’t considered that, Longarm. You think a long time ago was the last time you had a piece, even if it was this afternoon.”
“You better quit bringing that up, Fisher, if you have any sense.”
“Anyway, that’s the story about how buttes came to be formed.”
“Well, that’s going to do us a hell of a lot of good tomorrow if we get in a gunfight with the Gallaghers. I’ll yell down at them and tell them that you know how the buttes were formed, and that will probably make them drop their guns and head for home.”
Fisher shook his head slowly. “He that will not learn, cannot learn. You are doomed to eternal ignoramusness, Longarm.”
“My God, I wish we’d get to the end of this line. If I have to listen to much more of this clabber, I’m liable to begin talking like you.”
They trailed along through the quiet night, the only sound being the soft shuffle of their horses’ hooves in the sandy dirt. Every now and then, a horseshoe would strike a rock and make a clink, but other than that and the occasional howling of a far-off coyote, there was little noise to hear. Pedro, the burro, came along docilely as if he had been trailing across the prairie for most of his life. To keep up with the walk of the horses, he had a trotting gait that had at first alarmed Longarm, but as soon as he was able to see that it didn’t jostle the load, he was content that Pedro knew his job.
Finally, they came to the end of the line. They had been riding for perhaps two hours. Longarm calculated it to be sometime after ten o’clock. They identified the end of the line by the lengths of twisted tracks and piles of burned cross-ties lying about.
Fisher said, “Looks like somebody is trying to hold up progress here.”
Longarm said, “Guess who?” Off to his left, he could see a tall butte about a half mile distant. He took that to be the one that Simmons had said the Gallaghers would not let the track pass. He turned his dun to the left and toward the butte. They had left the mountains, but there were some small rises, and here and there small groves of trees. Looking at the butte from a distance, Longarm wasn’t sure how far up it they could get their horses. He figured Pedro could make it, but he wasn’t sure about the bigger horses.
Longarm led them to the butte, which appeared to be about two or three hundred feet high and about a quarter of a mile across, and then led them around to the back. About a hundred yards from the foot of the big structure, there was a clump of trees.
Longarm said, “Fish, I think we’d better tic our animals here and make it on foot the rest of the way.”
“I take it by making it on foot the rest of the way that you are talking about getting on top of that butte.”
“That’s what I have in mind. I think we’re going to need the high ground, and that appears to be as good as we’re going to find around here.”
Fisher asked, “Have you ever climbed one of these things?”
“No, can’t say that I have.”
“Well, you are in for a treat.”
They rode into the grove of trees and dismounted. They loosened the cinches on their horses’ saddles, then took the bits out of the animals’ mouths and tied them to some low branches so that they could graze on what little grass was there. Longarm said, “They’re not going to have a real good night of it, but that can’t be helped. They got plenty of feed and water on the train coming up, so I guess they’ll just have to be patient.”
Fisher asked, “What about old Pedro there?”
“He’ll be going with us.” Longarm untied his saddlebags and slung it over his shoulder. He said to Fish, “I hope you brought plenty of ammunition.” Fish gave him a look. “Going out on a job with you? No, it never crossed my mind.”
Longarm chuckled. “I’ve got four boxes of .44-caliber shells.”
“I can match that and then some.”
“You got the grub?”
Fisher patted one pouch of his saddlebags and said, “I’m all set.”
Together they trudged out of the little copse of trees and walked over the sandy, rocky ground. Longarm carried his carbine in one hand and led Pedro with the other. When they got to the foot of the butte, they ranged left and right, looking for an easy trail up. There didn’t seem to be any. Longarm said, “Fish, why don’t you go on ahead and find the best route and I’ll try to follow you with this burro.”
Fisher said, “That burro is the one that ought to lead. I imagine he knows more about this kind of climbing than you and me.”
In the still cool of the night, which was getting colder by the moment, they began working their way up the butte. It was broad enough at the base that the first hundred feet or so were not much trouble. Pedro came along easily, having no trouble, even where the men’s boots slipped and they were forced to their knees. After that it was harder. Longarm and Fisher were reduced to leaving their rifles behind so that they would have their hands free to pull themselves along. At a height just below the crest, they found a wide ledge that looked out onto the flat land below. In the moonlight, Longarm could see the gleam of the narrow-gauge tracks. There was a jumble of rocks on the ledge between them and the edge, big enough to hide the burro and well-placed enough to give them shooting positions.
Longarm said, “This ought to do.”
Fisher said, “I’ll go back and get the rifles. You might want to get that donkey unpacked. By the way, where are the blankets? I brought three and gave them to that Eugene fellow down in Springer to go with some more that he had. Hell, it’s getting as cold as all get-out.”
Longarm said, “I don’t know. Maybe they’re packed in with that ice Pedro is carrying.”