Chapter 8
WHEN SAM AWAKENED JUD THE NEXT MORNING, he was still nestled in the girl's arms. He opened his eyes and turned over slowly, looking up at the brawny figure towering over them. Desert Rose stirred beside him, rubbing her naked body affectionately against his, making a little purring sound. Then she opened her eyes, saw Sam, and slid away from Jud.
"You have a good night?" Sam chuckled.
Jud didn't say anything. He stared sullenly up at his friend. He remembered the way he'd felt with the girl last night. After that, it was going to be hard to follow through with what would probably happen during the next several days. He found himself wishing they'd met under different circumstances, without the gold lust between them. Hell with it, he thought. There was no use in getting sentimental.
"I'll be with you in a minute, Sam," he said finally.
Sam just stood there, leering down at the girl. The sleeping bag came just over her nipples, exposing the lush upper portions of her breasts, still arched up tautly by the position of her arms.
"I said I'll be there in a minute," Jud repeated, his tone impatient.
Sam laughed, then turned and swaggered away.
Jud glared after him for a moment, then turned his attention to the girl. She looked sullenly up at him. Nothing in her countenance recalled the way it had been with them at the height of their passion last night.
"My arms hurt," she said, her voice impassionate.
Jud leaned over and planted his lips on hers. She didn't respond at all. He drew back and looked down at her, reaching over to run his hand lightly across the full rise of her breasts, then down into the sleeping bag, teasing her rigid nipples.
She ignored him, staring blankly up at the sky.
Jud shrugged and slid out of the sleeping bag, then began to dress. Sullenly, she watched.
"I'll untie you in just a minute," he said. "And don't try anything funny. You're not going to escape."
"I hate you," she said matter-of-factly.
Jud chuckled. When he'd finished dressing, he folded the sleeping bag off the girl, exposing her dark, shapely body. For a moment he just looked down at her, admiring her with a respect that last night's episode had not served to dim. Then he knelt astride her torso with his knees in such a position that he could easily pinion her arms at the first sign of a struggle. He set about untying the rope.
"I won't try to escape," she said.
"I know you won't," Jud laughed. "And just to make sure, I'm not going to give you a chance."
The knots in the rope had been pulled tight by her struggles, and it took him a couple minutes to get them loose. When he succeeded, and was ready to free her arms, he braced himself for the possible impending fight.
But there was no fight. She lay where she was, merely moving her arms about and rubbing them to improve the circulation. All the while, she stared coldly up at Jud.
"What are you going to do with me?" she asked.
Jud looked down at her, surveying her face and body. There were marks where the rope had cut into her wrists. Strangely enough, he was sorry for that. And he knew one thing for certain: He didn't want her hurt; and gold or no gold, he wasn't going to allow her to come to harm.
"We'll use you as a hostage and go in and capture the old man and that girl, whoever she is. Then you-one of you-will have to tell us where the gold is. That's all."
"There is no gold."
The way she said it, it was almost convincing. Yet Jud knew she was lying.
"Then we'll take the gold and leave," Jud continued. "If you cooperate, we might even cut you in for a share."
The girl laughed-raucous, bitter laughter.
"Now, there's just one problem," Jud said.
The girl waited, saying nothing.
"In order for you to get dressed," Jud said, "I'll have to let you up. If you can do that without trying to escape, I'll let you up. If you can't, or if you make one wrong move, goddamn it, I'll tie your arms behind you and we'll march you up to that cabin butt-ass naked, and you'll stay that way until we're through here and gone."
"I won't try to escape," the girl said. "You have my word." She smiled. "I don't speak with a forked tongue now," she mimicked.
Jud eased himself off her, then stood ready to move at the slightest sign of treachery. Slowly the girl slipped into her buckskin breeches and jacket, all the while watching Jud, and seemingly amused at his suspicion. When she'd finished dressing, he tied her hands behind her back, then walked her to where Sam and Viola were in the process of breaking camp.
Sam, the rifle draped carelessly across his forearm, looked the girl over, then again turned the leering smile on Jud. "Well, quarterback, what's it going to be?" he asked.
Jud looked over at Desert Rose. "We'll use the girl as a hostage, and march right up to the cabin."
"And then?" Sam asked.
"Wait and see. Hell, the gold might be piled up right on their dinner table, waiting for us."
"There's no gold," Desert Rose said firmly.
"Shut up," Jud told her. He returned his attention to Sam and Viola. "Leave our gear here for the time being. Now, let's get going."
Jud took hold of the bindings that held the girl's arms behind her. Pushing her in front of him, he started through the last of the trees and into the clearing. Sam, leveling the rifle in the direction of the cabin, moved alongside the girl, and Viola followed behind Jud.
They were halfway to the cabin when the old man, brandishing his own rifle, came out. Jud stopped, holding the girl back. Sam took a couple more steps, then also halted. They were still a good hundred fifty yards out, but Jud had no doubt about the old man's accuracy at that range. He could probably shoot an ear off Sam and never even worry about hitting the girl. Sam, on the other hand, might be lucky even to hit the cabin.
"Get back here," Jud called under his breath to Sam. "Put your gun on the girl. And for God's sake, whatever you do, don't shoot her!"
As Sam complied, Desert Rose looked over her shoulder, smiling arrogantly.
"All right," Jud called. "Throw your gun down."
The old man hesitated, his rifle still leveled in Jud's direction.
"Get that gun right up to her temple, Sam," Jud commanded sharply.
Sam stepped closer, pressing the rifle barrel to the girl's temple.
"Now throw it down!" Jud called again, putting all the toughness he could in his voice. "We're not here to play games. You know what we're after."
The old man waited a moment longer, fidgeting nervously, then dropped the rifle.
"Now back away from it," Jud shouted. "And stay out where we can see you. We're coming up."
The old man stepped back about five feet, glancing nervously through the door at the side of the cabin, then looking back toward Jud and the others.
"Okay, let's go," said Jud.
Slowly, with Sam still holding his rifle on the girl, they walked on toward the cabin. Jud studied the old man, trying to find some feature that would allow him to accurately assess his character.
Jud guessed him to be about sixty, though he could have been younger, or several years older, for that matter. His hair was graying, and hung down over his ears, and there was a month's growth of sparse beard on his jaw. His eyes were a crystal blue, sharp and intense, and though he had a shriveled appearance, he seemed spry and agile. He wore a denim shirt and khaki trousers, a pair of worn, muddy cowboy boots and a tattered, weather-beaten Stetson which had all but lost its slipae. Silently he watched their approach. Jud guessed he wouldn't be afraid of hell itself. Now his only concern seemed to be for Sam's carelessness with the gun, still pointed at Desert Rose. ' "What's your name?" Jud asked sharply.
"Jonathan Cunningham, at yo' service, suh," the old man answered in an accent Jud placed at maybe the Carolinas or Virginia.
"Where's the other girl?" Jud asked. "The kid."
"Sally's inside."
"Get her out here," Jud said.
"Sally, I guess you bettah come out."
Hesitantly, the girl Sam had tackled yesterday stepped through the door of the cabin. Her sex was a bit more distinguishable now. It could have been because there was no hat to hide any part of her pert face, or it might have been the way she wore her denim shirt-a copy of the old man's-tied up in a knot just below her breasts, showing a nice expanse of the white flesh of her belly, punctuated by a cute little navel. The fact that the jeans she wore looked like she'd grown into them didn't hurt, either. She really had a nice little ass.
Sam was noticing too-so much so that he wasn't watching Desert Rose, though he still held the gun to her head.
"Careful, Sam," Jud said. "You don't have to point the gun at her any more. Just be ready in case one of them makes a move."
Slowly, Sam lowered the gun.
"Where are the rest of your firearms?" Jud asked Cunningham.
Cunningham shrugged. "That's the crop of it right there." He indicated the rifle on the ground.
Jud released his grip on Desert Rose's arm, walked over and picked up the rifle. He hefted it, testing the feel of it. Desert Rose moved over and took her place beside Cunningham and the girl called Sally.
"First let's go inside and have a look around."
"Make yourself at home," the old man said, gesturing toward the cabin. "My house is yourn, suh."
Jud noted the mockery in the way the old man attached the "suh." Well, he didn't much blame him if his hospitality wasn't genuine.
Gesturing with gun, Jud herded first the three prisoners, then Viola and Sam, into the little cabin. As he'd guessed, it was a two-room place. But there was a wood floor which he hadn't quite expected, a heavy dining table and three chairs, and a stone fireplace. Jud went through and looked at the other room. There were no furnishings here except a couple of pallets on the floor.
"How long you been here?" Jud asked.
"Off 'n on, 'bout a year," Cunningham said.
Jud looked at Sally, then at Desert Rose, then back to old Cunningham. "What's your relation to these two?"
The old man got a strange gleam in his eyes. He looked at Sally, then at Desert Rose, then for a moment just stared with appraising eyes at Viola Bartell. At last he returned his attention to Jud. He was smiling, and the gleam was still in his eyes. "You tryin' to find out about my sexual habits?" he asked in a taunting tone.
Jud smiled. He'd taken an instant liking to old Cunningham.
"I'll admit," the old man said, "that I ain't as spry as you young whippersnappers. Can't hop on an' off like a jack rabbit. Take's a little while to get me goin'. " He paused, watching Jud, then continued. "Sally here's my granddaughter. And Desert Rose, I took in when her husband got killed, bein' a friend o' the family. Brung Sally up 'cause I don't trust leavin' her to the evils of the world. And Desert Rose's strong and clear-headed as a man, aside from bein' one hell of a woman."
Jud glanced at the Indian girl. She smiled challengingly, proudly at him. When he returned his attention to Cunningham, he saw that the old man was making another appraisal of Viola, and concerning himself more with her body than anything else about her.
"We've been horsin' around long enough," Sam said impatiently.
Jud almost snickered. There'd be nothing he'd like better to see than old Cunningham and Viola tangling. Jud had an idea the old man could cut her down to size if he put half his mind to it.
"I guess you know what we're here for," Jud said.
"Reckon I do," the old man answered, returning his gaze to Jud. "I reckon you want my gold."
"Now we're talking!" Sam interjected.
"Well, as we understand it," said Jud, "it's Spanish gold." He smiled. "I guess it will belong to whoever gets it down from the mountain."
"And we intend to be the ones that get it down," Sam said gruffly. "And we don't care what we have to do to accomplish that."
The old man just smiled-unperturbed, patient. Jud had begun to doubt that he himself would go very far at all toward getting the gold. At least he didn't intend to do any of these people any harm. But it wouldn't hurt to run a bluff.
"You might save everyone some trouble by just giving it to us now," he said.
The old man shook his head. "Ain't got it."
Sam lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and let the smoke drift out of his mouth. He walked slowly over to Sally, taking her by the arm and drawing her away from the others. She cringed at his touch, but didn't resist. Cunningham watched with calm alertness. Sam held the gun tucked under his arm.
"Do you have any idea what this cigarette's going to feel like if I decide to put it out on this child's belly?" Sam asked calmly, reaching down to stroke the girl's bare midriff with his thumb.
The girl said nothing, but looked pleadingly at old Cunningham. Jud noted that Desert Rose was trying to loosen her hands from the bindings behind her back. He doubted if she'd succeed, he'd been careful to make them secure. The only thing that disturbed Jud now was that he knew Sam wasn't bluffing. He found himself almost praying the old man would miraculously produce a bag of gold coins, not as much for the gold as for the fact that it would avoid trouble with Sam-trouble that might well result in a shoot-out.
Sam released the girl and backed away, taking another deep, leisurely drag on the cigarette, and the girl scurried back to Desert Rose's side.
"I figure there must be about twenty thousand in gold up here," Sam said. "Now, I'm not a cruel man, but I'd go a long way for twenty thousand, if you know what I mean. So you can save your granddaughter a lot of misery by just handing it over."
Cunningham just watched Sam for a moment. His smile had gone, but he still seemed perfectly in control of his emotions.
"My granddaughter don't know where that gold is," Cunningham said calmly. "Neither does Desert Rose. Nobody knows but me."
"You're the only one I'm asking to tell," Sam said, dragging again on the cigarette, then holding it up to watch the glowing tip.
Then, without warning, the old man made his move. He dropped into a half crouch, and his hand shot into his pocket. Sam, his reflexes still sharp as any college athlete's, moved almost as quickly, swinging his gun up to waist level on the old man, his finger instantly finding and squeezing the trigger.
Jud's reflexes were still good too-perhaps even better than Sam's. He dropped his own gun and threw a flying body block, catching Sam knee-high and doubling him up on the floor, and somehow simultaneously managing to grab the rifle barrel and pull it down, so the shot went into the floor. Then, rolling, he tried to right himself to defend against the old man's knife, which he'd glimpsed as he threw the block.
But to Jud's surprise, the old man hadn't even moved toward them. He was standing right where he'd been, holding the gleaming steel blade of a hunting knife up to his own throat. The look in his eyes was the look of a madman.
"Now I told you I was the only one who knows where that gold is," Cunningham said, his voice trembling.
Jud and the baffled Sam got slowly to their feet, their eyes intent on the blade of the knife, pressed against the old man's throat so hard that it had broken the skin enough to show a few drops of blood.
"Now hold it," Jud said. "Take it easy."
He took a couple steps toward the old man, but Cunningham retreated, careful to keep plenty of distance between himself and Jud.
"That's my gold!" the old man cried out. "If I can't have my share, nobody will!"
Sam and Jud looked at each other incredulously, then back at the old man.
"Just take it easy," Jud repeated.
"If you want to be pardners, we'll be pardners," the old man said.
Jud looked at Rose and the other girl. They were both staring in awe at Cunningham.
"What do you think?" Sam asked under his breath.
"That's my gold!" the old man cried, almost hysterical now.
"Let's string along with him," Sam whispered.
"All right," Jud said. "We'll go partners on it."
Cunningham moved the knife a couple of inches away from his throat. He looked questioningly at Jud and Sam. There was a strange glimmer of hope in his eyes.
Jud took another step toward him. "Now, just give me the knife. We'll go partners."
Cunningham retreated back to the wall of the cabin. His eyes again assumed the wild look, and again he pressed the blade against his throat.
"Let me have the knife," Jud entreated him.
"I keep the knife," Cunningham said. "I'm the only one who knows where the gold is. I keep the knife."
Jud sighed. "All right. You keep the knife. Just be careful you don't cut your throat."
"We're pardners?" the old man asked with cautious hope.
"Partners," Jud said.
Slowly Cunningham lowered the knife, slipping it back into a scabbard he wore inside his trouser pocket. Jud had the feeling it had been concealed there for just this purpose.
"We'll string along with him till we get the gold," Sam whispered. "Then maybe a little accident, huh?"
Jud didn't answer. He noticed that the old man had been whispering something to Desert Rose, and was now in the process of untying her hands. Well, that was probably all right, as long as he and Sam kept the guns.
"I'll have these womenfolk stir us up some vittles,"
Cunningham said. "Then I'll take you up to the diggin's."
"Diggings?" Sam and Jud asked simultaneously.
"Where the gold is," Cunningham explained, a sharp impatience in his voice, as if their question had been a stupid one. "You see, when the Spaniards come through here, they buried the gold-a ways on up the mountain. Now the map I seen-I was smart enough to destroy it after I'd committed it to memory-wasn't too accurate as to where the gold is buried. And it's been there for three hundred years, you understand. A lot of soil's washed down on in. Have to dig down four or five feet, do it systematically, cover the whole plateau, to make sure we don't miss it. That's why I was kindly glad to see you young fellers. Diggin's hard for an old coot like me.
Jud and Sam looked back at each other, both skeptical. The prospect of digging up a whole plateau didn't sound inviting at all.
"Heap of work," Cunningham said. "But for twenty thousand, it'll be worth it. I just got to have your word on one matter."
"What's that?"
"Once I show you where the diggings is, you won't try to run out on the partnership. I just need your word," he said, addressing Jud.
The whole idea seemed pretty farfetched to Jud. He couldn't remember the last time anybody had asked him for his word. He didn't know people still put stock in that sort of thing. Every minute he was becoming more doubtful of the old man's mental health.
"Tell him yes," Sam whispered.
"All right," Jud said, feeling a little foolish. "You have my word."
"Now, girl," Cunningham said to Sally. "Why don't you git busy on them vittles? These boys ain't gonna be able to work on an empty stomach."
After a hearty breakfast, they gathered up Cunningham's supply of picks and shovels, took dried beef to snack on, and made the hour's hike up to what Cunningham referred to as the diggin's. It was a long, narrow plateau, running along the edge of a steep rock bluff. Jud estimated it to be less than half the size of a football field, and the dirt, washed down from farther up the mountain, was not as hard packed as it might have been. But it was still going to be a lot of digging. Thus far, there had only been two ditches dug along the edge of the bluff, each perhaps ten feet long, a couple of feet wide, and several feet deep, and they'd now been partially filled in. The old man had scarcely made a start toward what had to be done, if indeed there was validity to his story.
Jud lost enthusiasm immediately. He wished he were sitting in a cantina back in Ciudad Juarez, and had never even heard Sam's story about the treasure. But since he'd come this far, he might as well put a little more effort into it.
Sam was equally pessimistic. Only the old man was eager to get started, and his enthusiasm was almost maniacal.
He did have one good argument. The fact that he had uncovered several coins-among them the one that had accidentally been given to Desert Rose's cousin at the curio shop-did prove that there was some gold here somewhere, or that there had been. And there was nothing else to go on but the old man's information. If he didn't know where the gold was, nobody did, and Jud and Sam had very little choice but to play along with him.
Reluctantly, Jud and Sam set about doing the heavy work, while the women were ordered to help out as best they could. The old man, to Jud's amusement and Sam's antagonism, assumed a role similar to that of a foreman on a construction job-stalking around, encouraging everyone else to keep busy.
It was a long, fruitless day. By late afternoon they'd covered very little of the area, and they'd found nothing. Everyone but Cunningham was hot, tired and irritable. Even Desert Rose and Sally were dubious. But Cunningham was still maniacally optimistic, already looking forward to an earlier start tomorrow.
There was one bright spot for Jud in the otherwise disheartening day. That was Desert Rose's candid proposition that she and Jud sneak away for the night when the others had gone to sleep.