Chapter 3

THEY WERE UP AT DAYBREAK THE NEXT morning. Jud stoked up the fire, and Viola fixed them sausage and scrambled eggs. Jud calculated they had food for three more days.

There was no mention of what had happened the night before. Sam obviously believed Jud had heard nothing. But every time she got the chance, Viola showed him a smirk that regenerated his pounding desire to get even with her. He was beginning to feel like he'd spent his whole life listening to Sam and Viola screwing.

That wasn't quite the case. Jud was a good-looking man-better looking than Sam, though not quite so brawny. He'd had a string of girls a mile long after him since he passed puberty, and when he dropped out of college and went to work as a car salesman, he did a short stint as a playboy type. Then he'd gotten tired of selling cars, and made it for a while in New York as a kind of gigolo. But all that wasn't doing him much good now.

They finished eating and began taking down the tent. Viola took the dishes down to the creek to wash them, and Jud debated making up some excuse and going after her, but decided the time wasn't right. He could wait.

"As best I can guess," Sam said as they worked with the tent, "we should be in the area of that hermit's place by late this afternoon."

"Then what do we do?" Jud asked distantly. He was still thinking of Viola. The bitch.

"I don't know for sure. We'll have to look around; find him; see what he says. Then decide."

"I've got a feeling he'll find us before we find him," Jud answered.

Viola came back over the ridge, glowing against a background of sunrise. She wore a pair of tight jeans, and a shirt tied up in a knot just beneath her breasts. There was about a foot of the bare stomach visible, from a couple of inches below her navel right up to the fold of her breasts. He had to admit she looked good.

They folded the tent and packed it, then packed the dishes and food. They army surplus gear, and though the loads were reasonably heavy, they weren't especially cumbersome. A foot soldier carries about sixty pounds; Jud's guess was that they had less than forty apiece. But it was no picnic, either. He wasn't as young as he'd been when they were calling him a cinch for All-American.

Once loaded, they set off again. The trial was good at times; at other times it almost disappeared. Fortunately there was no real climbing involved, but the gradual upgrade was turning Jud's once finely toned legs into a bundle of knots.

Once when they stopped to rest a hawk flew over, and Sam took a couple shots at it with the deer rifle he'd brought along, but missed. They got up and went on. The secret was to keep putting one foot in front of the next, no matter how grueling that simple matter became.

With the sun straight overhead and hot despite the mountain breeze, they stopped to eat a lunch of sandwiches. Afterward they smoked and rested a while, then got up and trudged on. They stuck fairly close to the stream-at least there was no danger of being without water, and the chances were that the old mountaineer would also be close to the water.

Once they encountered a fairly steep incline, almost a bluff, and here they did have to climb. When they reached the top, they were above the scrubby trees that covered the mountainside, and could see all the way down. Far below and away was the desert, and the greenness between them and it was like something out of a dream. They stopped and looked at the view for a while, the endless plains of New Mexico stretching westward, and then they went on.

As they drove themselves upward, the mountainside became more rugged. They had to leave the stream for a while, as the trail wound away from it. They grew tired, hot, thirsty, and tempers became sharp as blisters swelled on their feet. Viola complained, and Jud raged for her to shut up. Sam looked at him in amazement and said nothing. They walked on through the afternoon.

It was still long before dusk when they reached what looked to be an endless plateau, covered by scrubby trees. The peak of the mountain which had guided them disappeared, and so did the trail. They paused, rested, did their best to get their bearings from the direction of the sun. Then, though still uncertain about their bearings, they started on through the chaparral. After about a mile, they stopped to rest.

"What do you think, Cap'in?" Sam asked Jud.

Jud had been captain of the football team, and as quarterback he'd called all the plays. But Sam had been calling the shots thus far on this excursion.

"I don't know. I guess we keep walking."

"Let's camp," Viola said.

"We'll keep going!" Sam snapped with impatience. "And don't you start whimpering. I don't know why I brought a woman along on this anyway."

Viola puckered her lips in a pout, her face reflecting great hurt.

"Oh, I'm sorry, baby," Sam said. "We'll camp soon enough. Or maybe that old man will have a place we can sleep."

Jud was thinking about how much simpler it would have been if Sam hadn't brought Viola along. But it was too late to worry about that now. They couldn't very well send her down the hill by herself.

Sam laughed. "Maybe Jud can keep himself warm with that Indian broad who's supposed to be with the old coot. How'd you like that, Jud? A fat squaw to keep you warm. I bet she could show you some tricks, though."

"Sam!" It was Viola who spoke, and something in her tone stopped Sam short, and sent a chill through Jud.

They both looked at her, and she pointed with her finger. They turned in the direction she indicated.

Jud had expected to see about four Indian braves-the ghost of Geronimo among them-ready to take their scalps. But it was only a boy, and he wasn't Indian.

He was very young, judging from the delicate quality of his face. His eyes were blue and wide, and a few locks of sandy-gold hair hung down beneath the tattered western hat he wore. He had on a ragged denim shirt and a pair of faded Levi's. His hands had the same delicate quality as his face.

For a moment the child just stared at them in wide-eyed surprise, and they stared back with equal shock. He was not more than ten feet away, standing between two scrubby cedars.

Sam was the first to speak. "Come on over, boy?" he said cautiously.

The child didn't move. "Come on," Sam coaxed.

Sam eased himself to his feet. He held out his hand as if offering candy. He took a hesitant step forward, and the boy took a step back.

Sam took another step. "Don't be afraid," he said in a near whisper.

He took one more step, and the kid turned and bolted. Sam made a flying dive. Extending his hands, managed to grab the boy's shirt at the back. But the kid wasn't waiting, shirt or no shirt. He went right running, and left the denim shirt like a tear-away jersey in Sam's hands.

Except it wasn't a kid. At least it wasn't a he. Jud saw that as soon as the shirt came ripping off, and he was sure of it when the fleeing figure turned to look back. Naked to the waist, she was unmistakably a girl-maybe young; certainly not fully developed, but the small, firm breasts, .nipples swollen and pink, were two of the most appetizing mouthfuls Jud had seen in a long time. The hat fell off, too. The sandy-gold hair was cropped short, but it went well with her face. Actually she was very pretty.

Then, before Jud had time for further evaluation, she disappeared into the trees.

Sam still lay flat on his face on the ground. Tiredly he lifted himself on his elbows, looking helplessly at the ragged remains of the shirt clenched in his fist. "Damn it!" he said. "I almost had 'im!"

Jud glanced at Viola. She looked a little dazed. He smiled at her, then remembered what he thought of her and changed the smile to a sneer.

"Yeah, Sam, you almost got him. But it wasn't a him."

Sam looked up stupidly. Jud grinned wider.

"That was a girl, Sam. Can't you tell the difference?"

Sam looked at him, then at Viola. She began to laugh, and the laughter caught in Jud. Sam got to his feet, irked at first, but then he started laughing too.

The laughter lasted a full five minutes. It was a pouring out of the tensions that had been building up all day. But at the same time it was a reflection of a newer tension, an anticipation. For each of them knew that in some way or other, this girl would be connected with the treasure. If there was a treasure.

"Did you see which way she went?" Sam asked when the laughing had stopped.

"That away!" Jud said, mimicking the movie cliche.

"I'm serious," Sam snapped. "We've got to get after the little bitch!"

"Well, come on then," said Jud.

They got up and started double-timing it through the woods. Viola was still laughing for a while; then she skinned her arm on a branch and started complaining again. Sam told her to shut up, and they pushed on through the trees.

They covered about a half-mile before they came to a wide clearing, perhaps a quarter-mile across. On the far side, the peak of the mountain rose like a pyramid, and at its foot was a tiny shack.

They held up at the edge of the clearing. "That's probably the hermit's place," said Sam, panting like a dog.

"So what now?" Jud asked.

Sam wriggled out of the heavy pack on his back and let it drop to the ground. "I guess we make an appearance and see what's gonna happen."

He stepped cautiously into the clearing, paused a minute, then started walking. Jud was going to follow, but then he saw a gleam of metal as what he knew must be a rifle barrel protruded from one of the cabin windows:

"Sam!" he warned.

like an accent to his words, a shot rang out. Sam dived to the ground, then scurried back toward the brush. The rifle cracked again as he reached the trees.

"Damn it, I musta been crazy!" he raged.

He withdrew the 30-30 from its scabbard on his pack. He slid across the ground to the edge of the clearing. The cabin door opened and a gray-haired, gray-bearded old man emerged. A rifle was slung lazily across his arm. Sam aimed quickly and fired. The old man didn't flinch; just stood where he was.

Sam took more careful aim.

"Sam!" Jud shouted, knocking the rifle barrel into the dirt.

Sam whirled angrily on him.

"What do you want to do, kill him?" Jud shouted. "Then I guess we dig this whole mountainside up till we find it?"

Sam glared at him sullenly, then looked back over his shoulder toward the cabin. Jud saw that Viola was lying behind one of the' larger trees, farther into the brush. When he looked back at the cabin, the old man was still standing there.

"I didn't come up here to kill an old man and steal his gold," Jud said.

"What do you think we're going to do?"

"If the gold's here, we'll get our share. But we're not killing anybody. Not me, anyway."

He glared at Sam, realizing for the first time how wide was the breach between their ideas. What if the old coot did have half a million dollars piled in the corner of that little shack? It was an interesting thought.

"I came after that gold!" Sam said sullenly, as if to explain his position on the question.

"All right. I did too. But take it easy until we at least find out what's going on."

He looked over at Viola. She'd crept out from behind the tree, and was just watching them. Jud saw nothing in her face to indicate whether she'd taken sides as yet.

"Then what do you suggest we do now?" Sam asked.

"We pitch camp. We stay here. We wait and watch. For a while, anyway."

They both looked back at the cabin. The old man wasn't standing there any more.

"And we quit fighting among ourselves," Jud added.

Sam got to his feet. "All right, you can be quarterback for a while more. But just be damn sure you call the plays right. I don't plan on leaving without that gold." He glared at Jud.

Moving very slowly, they tiptoed on through the brush. Jud suddenly regretted that he hadn't brought a gun on the trip. He could have picked one up cheap enough in Juarez. Not that he had any intention of a gunfight with the old mountaineer; the odds probably wouldn't be very good. He was sure the old man could have picked Sam off if he'd been trying. It was Sam that Jud didn't trust. It was something about the look in Sam's eyes when he'd said he wasn't leaving without the gold. Jud had heard about what gold could do to a man. It was a lust, like the lust for a woman, but the game was even more deadly when the stake was gold.

Jud glared back for a while, then took his pack off and carried it back about twenty paces, to a place where there was room to pitch the tent among the trees. "We'll camp here," he said.

Sam nodded. "What about water?"

"The stream can't be more than a quarter-mile through the woods," he said, gesturing north. "Because it winds around behind that cabin, if you looked closely."

"Yeah, I looked," said Sam. "We need a couple of days' water now-in case he gets us pinned down or something."

Jud nodded. "Give me the gun and I'll watch the cabin. You and Viola take the canteens and empty one pack. It'll hold water."

Sam shook his head. "No," he said, accusation sharp in tone, "I'll keep the gun. You an' Viola go for water."

Jud looked at Viola. Her eyes met his, but betrayed nothing. He turned back to Sam and nodded.

"All right, Sam, you keep the gun and watch the cabin."