The buckskin grazed peacefully as Madigan pulled his blanket over himself for a much needed rest. When was he going to learn that one of these days doing good deeds like that was going to get him killed? Probably never, he thought.
The next morning he examined the packhorse’s hoof and was relieved to see it was healing nicely. He’d give it one more day to make sure it was all right, then continue on his way. A cool breeze blew all day and Madigan spent the time fishing in the little creek in the canyon. It produced some fine rainbows which he promptly ate.
After that he took a bath in the waterfall’s chilling water, nearly freezing his rear off. His clothes also got a good cleaning, something they more than needed. Leaving them to dry, Madigan laid his blanket down in the shade and took some shut eye.
The next morning dawned bright and clear and he was anxious to be on his way again. The crisp mountain air gave him an appetite for once, but before fixing breakfast he checked the packhorse’s sore hoof by walking her around camp with a light load on. There was no sign of a limp, so he set his mind to hurry and eat so that he might make some distance before the heat of the day.
An hour later he was packed and started on his way. It would be a long time before he found anything like this secluded shelter again, and there was a great hesitancy in his heart to leave this beautiful place that had hidden him so well from his enemies. But the time had come to push on, and though he did so unwillingly at first, he was soon lost in the excitement of the new sights and sounds of the ever-changing panorama before him.
Now Madigan was a man of caution, and when he traveled, he kept out of view as much as possible. This habit of his had kept him away from trouble more than once.
He was doing just that-keeping from sight-when up ahead and to his right he glimpsed two riders and a pack animal advancing toward the main trail. They were coming down through the pucker brush from behind an outcropping of rock. The two were moving along easy like, not stirring up any dust, while keeping a close watch on the trail in front of them. Madigan figured it must be the two he’d saved a few nights before.
There was plenty of cover around, so he just let them ride on ahead while he held back for a spell. At least they had sense enough to get off the trail for a day and let trouble leave the area. Now he’d do the same, just drift along nice and slow while they rode on ahead and put some miles between him and them. Been so long since he’d really talked with anyone that wasn’t trying to kill him that he was tempted to catch up and say howdy, but knew better.
Before long, he came to what looked like a game trail angling off to the north and up the side of the mountain. Madigan realized it might afford him a better look at what was up ahead while allowing him to stay hidden much of the time. He decided to follow it a ways, if nothing else it would help to put more miles between him and the two riders ahead. Dropping to the ground, he led the two horses along the narrow, twisting path between sparse stands of fir. Once he startled a big buck with a doe in tow and watched it go bounding off through the brush with a speed that never failed to amaze him.
After a short distance the path widened and he mounted up again. At times the going got rough, but the buckskin took it in stride, only stopping from time to time to wait for the packhorse to struggle over an obstacle that the buckskin was able to hurdle easily.
Before crossing a creek that flowed across his path, he allowed the animals to drink their fill of the sweet mountain water before mounting up again. Madigan thought that the trail would’ve allowed him a view of the lower ground before this, yet each time it looked as though it was about to come out on a vantage point, it turned away. At the very least, by doing so he was never in view of anyone below.
Realizing he’d have to go to the top before he’d have his look, he impatiently hurried the buckskin on with a slight kick to his ribs. Just a tap really, but the great horse got the picture and soon they were nearing the top of the trail where the ground flattened out into a kind of terrace that hung to the side of the mountain like some kind of perch for a giant bird.
Now, Madigan was no fool. So when he got within a hundred yards or so of the top, he picketed the horses and went the rest of the way on foot. If he figured the place for a good lookout, there was no reason someone else hadn’t done the same.
He slipped the thong from his Colt just in case and walked wearily out of the brush onto the flat clearing. If a view was what he wanted, then that was exactly what he got. Only it wasn’t of the valley floor below. Instead, as he stepped into the clearing, he was immediately confronted with the sight of twenty or more Utes with blood in their eyes. A chill ran down his spine. Madigan was trapped with no place to go! There wasn’t one of them Indians that didn’t have an arrow pointed right at him!
Behind him the buckskin snorted and shortly afterward Madigan heard a thud and figured the great horse had gotten himself a Ute that had approached too close. He only hoped they’d turn the horse loose and not kill him where he stood. It was a sure bet that he’d not be needing a horse any more. He felt a sharp prick in his back, then a hand lifted his gun from its holster. The same hand also found and took his knife. Now totally disarmed, Madigan felt his heart sink as never before.
He was taken to a large tree in the center of the opening where dry brush and dead wood were soon piled around the base, and Madigan didn’t have to be told what they had in mind for him. At different times in his travels he’d come across burned-out trees in the middle of clearings such as this, and had wondered why a single tree was destroyed and not others around it, as would be the case in a forest fire. Madigan had thought of the possibility of lightning but the tree would not be blown apart like a lightning strike does.
Now he realized those trees had been used to burn the hated whites that had dared challenge the Indians and lost. Madigan envisioned someone years from now riding through and wondering about this tree. Would he know that a man had died while tied to it as it burned? Whether he did or not made no matter to him.
A sharp blow knocked him off his feet and for a moment bright lights danced in his head. He felt himself falling, then nothing.
Madigan didn’t know how long he was out but it couldn’t have been long. He’d been carried to the tree and was held to its trunk by a rawhide rope wrapped around it and himself. Only his hands were free, but he could do nothing with them to help himself.
Some of the Indians were dancing what he took to be some kind of a death dance, their painted bodies glistening in the sun. Others were using a fire bow trying to get a fire going and from time to time they’d look up at Madigan and laugh. The rest of the Indians just stood around or sat watching him with a look of amusement on their faces. To Madigan it was not amusing at all.
He questioned his hands being left untied, but the answer was soon coming when several Indians came toward him with another length of rope. As they came closer, one of them thrust the point of a lance under his chin-Madigan assumed it was to keep him from struggling-while they tied his hands behind him. The blade of the lance was held with such pressure that it cut flesh, and a small trickle of blood ran down his neck to be lost somewhere in his shirt.
Madigan struggled with the idea of forcing his body forward onto the razor-sharp blade of obsidian, thus ending his life quickly, giving the savages no satisfaction of their own. Yet something deep within kept him from it.
Madigan stood there unmoving as a loop of rope was placed about his left hand and jerked tight pulling his arm up behind him. He felt his right arm being lifted so that it too could be tied. All at once an unnerving shriek filled the air. The tension on his left hand suddenly released, allowing it to drop to his side along with the short piece of rope attached to it.