Driftin' (Shad Cain Book 3) Page 6

  Many of these Chinamen… and women were sacrificing their entire generation looking for a better life, not for themselves, but for their parents and their younger brothers and sisters… Life can be mighty unfair…. And then you die.

  Gaining the top of that slope, I figured I was at least five hundred feet higher than I was, when I left the wagons. The place where I was standing was on the first level of the High Sierras. I’d been in these mountains before but never on this side. I could see the peaks lining up the one behind the other. Each one showing off its green clad shoulders and bare rock streaked with snow above.

  After a brief rest… for Bud mostly because I didn’t exert myself too much on the climb, we went on. We hadn’t traveled far till I spotted a place where a couple of wagons had been sitting for quite a while. The grass underneath was all brown and dead due to lack of sunlight. Following the tracks again we turned south and east. Knowing how mountain trails twist and turn their way up and down on their search for a pass or a gap, I didn’t give the direction much thought for a final destination.

  In this case, we stayed on a south by southeast course for eight or ten miles. Once we came upon a thick forest of some of the biggest… no… they really were the biggest trees I’d ever seen. They had trunks that would measure thirty feet across, and they would reach up into the sky three hundred feet or more. A bit farther on I saw where there had been some logging going on.

  It looked like the loggers had just laid down their axes and saws, let the steam engine that powered the big saw run dry, and then just walked away. That was my first thought, until I saw the bullet holes in the shacks and the blood inside them. There were a good number of shell casings inside the shacks, but not near as many as were scattered around the perimeter. It didn’t take a trained eye to see that a well armed force had spread out behind trees and rocks, and then they opened fire. It would have been like shooting ducks on a pond.

  Those shacks were made of plain pine boards about an inch thick. A .44 bullet would rip right through them, and another close by would knock out a chunk of wood and split it along the grain. They must have just sat back behind their rocks and trees and shot the whole logging camp to shreds. It hadn’t been that long ago either. Those shacks had been made with green lumber and there was still sap forming where it had been ripped and split by bullets. And very little rust had formed on axes and blades.

  Any of those ranchers down there who still think Glazer and his men are nothing to worry about, needed to see this. Dog was standing atop a cleared knoll looking and sniffing off to the west. He didn’t like something over there. I walked up to where he was standing. He wasn’t growling, so I didn’t think there was immediate danger. But the scruff on the back of his neck was standing straight up.

  He was looking at a big pile of burnt logs and limbs. Then I smelled it, at first it was the smell of wet ashes and half burnt timbers. But there was also the sickly sweet smell of rotting flesh. I walked on toward the remains of a pretty good sized fire hoping to find a dead deer somewhere near it.

  The first thing I saw was a half burned lace up boot. The second thing I saw was a well gnawed shin bone sticking out of the boot. The fire must not have been a good one because there were plenty of bones scattered around among the half burned timbers. I could also see bits of clothes, a belt buckle or two, and a burnt up watch hanging by the chain from a snag. They must have just thrown the bodies on a brush pile and set it afire.

  From the stench, I would imagine there were some bodies that fell down into the pile when timbers started shifting and were covered with heavy pieces of wood. And the coyotes and buzzards couldn’t get at ‘em.

  I could see at least six skulls or parts of skulls, so there were at least that many men killed here. And it hadn’t been so long ago. From the smell of things, it had been less than six weeks ago. I dearly wanted to bury those men, but I couldn’t help them now. I had some foolish people down in the valley that needed help, and they didn’t even know it…. or refused to believe it.

  I made a note in my head to come back up here, when things were settled down below and bury them. I had just finished putting that note into my remembering place, when Dog started moving toward a clump of thick brush. And he was growling. I had my rifle in hand, so I pulled back the hammer.

  Dog was circling the clump on the right side, so I moved to the left. He was getting louder with a few hoarse barks. Whatever was in there would be concentrating on him. I just hoped I’d be in place to get a shot before whatever it went after him. A grizzly or even a black bear can move pretty fast. A coyote or a wolf would have already been gone. I guess I worried about cougars more than anything because of their speed.

  Then I heard the creature move just to my right. I had no choice; all I could do was crash through the brush and pull the trigger. I went through and found my target immediately. It must have been the hand of God that stopped me from squeezing that trigger.

  There on the ground, crouched one of the filthiest humans I’d ever seen. His face was grimy and his clothes were like bloody rags hanging on a scarecrow frame. He held a double bitted axe in both blackened hands, but I didn’t think he would have had the strength to use it. Dog had come through the brush on the other side, so I called him off.

  The scarecrow looked up at me with so much terror in his eyes, I was momentarily flummoxed. I didn’t know what to make of him, but I’m sure he already had ideas of what I was about. Folks tell it that I’m pretty scary when I’m in a good mood, so I figure this fella was counting his last few seconds tick away.

  “Easy, friend, I mean you no harm.” There was no reaction. “Were you part of the loggin’ camp?” there was a slight flicker of eye movement. I took that as yes.

  “If you were one of the loggers, you got nothing to fear from me… That’s a bad bunch that done that out there… I’m scoutin’ ‘em and lookin’ for scalps.”

  Tears were welling up in the man’s eyes, and I looked away. Just seein’ what went on here was enough to make a grown man cry, but I could only imagine what went on afterwards.

  “Mister,” he said, “I’m near dead already, so if you’re lyin’ to me…. just go ahead and pull the trigger… I’m ready.”

  “I’ll do you no harm…. I don’t know if I can do you much good, but I don’t mean to hurt you none…. Now let’s get you out of here.”

  A short low whistle brought the buckskin trotting up. I got him in the saddle and swung up behind him and let him guide us to his camp. It wasn’t much more than a lean-to set up against a huge fallen pine. I built a smokeless fire and put some meat on a spit. Then I opened a can of peaches to get him started, while I put coffee water on.

  I cautioned him to go slow and chew his food well, but he was so hungry he didn’t hear a thing I said. His stomach had shrunk, and it caused him some discomfort, but he had something in him.

  After he had all he could hold, he told me his story. He and eight others had come up here as an advance party to set up a lumber camp. They were to clear the sight, build some shacks, a bunkhouse, saw mill, and have it all set when the logging crew came up. They had three months to get everything ready to start cutting those Giant Sequoia trees. That was two months ago. The camp was hit about three weeks ago.

  The young man’s name was Hank Crawford, and he was a carpenter by trade. He wasn’t even a logger, but he got caught up in the massacre. “Mister,” he said, “I was in the outhouse when the shootin’ started. We only had a few rifles among us for bears and deer, so I knowed something awful was happening when I heard so much shootin’. I peeked out and saw our men runnin’ in all directions, and they was cuttin’ them down like they was prizes in a shootin’ gallery.”

  “I slipped out, and made my way into the deep woods. The outhouse was naturally set in a out of the way place so I wasn’t caught up in the first volley with the rest. Seemed like everyone was workin’ in camp that morning.”

  “When the shootin’ was over, I heard them shoot
eight more times… I reckoned they were goin’ around finishing everyone off…. There’s been times since that I thought I’d a been better off if they’d a shot me too…. I been near starved to death since… I was able to steal some of the food they threw out at their camp, but the garbage attracted bears. Besides, them Chinamen eat everything they can get.”

  “What’re they doin’ over there, Hank. Why’re they bringin’ in the coolies.”

  “As far as I can tell, they’re diggin’ a tunnel…. They got near on to sixty or seventy Chinese workin’ at it. And they brought in more a few days ago. I heard some of them talkin’ about grabbin’ some of it and takin’ off. Another fella said the boss was a bad one to cross. He said they needed to control that whole west wall to keep the loggers out.”

  I sat thinking for a few minutes to put all that in the right light. Whatever he meant by “some of it” was a mystery, but it must be worth a lot to Glazer. What worried me was the fact that they needed to block off the mountains before the loggers moved in…. That could be less than a month. I had to get back down below… we had to get down below.

  Hank Crawford was a young man… maybe twenty four or so. He was tall and wide shouldered. He had big hands and large bones. I figured he’d go close to two hundred pounds when he was eating right. Right then, I wouldn’t call him anything beyond a hundred and thirty five or forty pounds. He said he’d caught a few rabbits and bird in snares, and he’d eaten berries and wild fruit… some he probably shouldn’t have.

  “Hank… you think you’d be up to ridin’ out of here by morning?”

  “I reckon… if we can find another horse, I’ll stick on him.”

  “You’ll ride my horse. I can make as good a time through the forest afoot.”

  “But I can’t take your horse. What’ll you ride?”

  “I was walkin’ long before I could ride… discussion’s over… we’ll leave at first light.”

  Chapter 9

  We actually left before first light, but we were ready, and we had a good moon. I didn’t have the time to go back the way I’d come, so I went southwest hoping to come out somewhere between Bell’s ranch and Dee Wells’ place. It would be too risky taking the long way and meeting up with some of the Glazer bunch.

  I was navigating by stars, moon, and later on by the sun. I’d seen the mountains from Max Bell’s place, and there weren’t any sheer bluffs to deal with, so I figured we could make it down with a little luck. I told Hank to just hang on to the saddle horn and let the horse follow along with Dog and me. He did, and Bud followed us like hounds follow a butcher’s wagon.

  The sun was high in the sky when we came to the downhill part of the trip. My calculations were pretty close to what I’d hoped for. We were a little south of Miss Wells’ spread and about a mile away. The only problem I could see was about three hundred feet of that mile were directly below us. There didn’t seem to be any easy way down, so I chose the way that seemed to be less scary than the others. It was still plenty scary.

  “Hank, if you’re a scared of heights, just hang on to that knob and close your eyes. That buckskin has been through some high country, and he was bread for it. If you care to do a little prayin’ on the way down… go ahead… say one for me while you’re at it.”

  “Just give the horse his head, he’ll figure out the best places to go. You may have to prod him now and then, but he’ll go. Stay low on his back, so you’re not floppin’ around and causin’ him to lose balance…. The first couple hundred feet shouldn’t be too bad, but that last hundred feet looks like slide rock. He may go down on his tail and slide with it… just stick with him.”

  “If we’re both still alive at the bottom, wait for me because I’ll be comin’ up behind you and headin’ for that ranch over to your right… If I don’t make it you go and tell Miss Wells to get Bell and say they got less than a month before all hell breaks loose.”

  He was likely to remember about half of that. I just hoped he’d remember the part about waiting for me at the bottom. Otherwise I was going to have to run all the way to the house. The horse and Dog stood the best chance of making it down because of their four feet and well distributed balance. So, I stowed my Winchester in the saddle boot with a thong to keep it there. I made sure my six-gun and knife were secure. My tomahawk, I shoved into my bedroll.

  “I’ll lead off,” I told Crawford, “he’ll follow along where he can. When we get to the slide area, it’s every man and beast for hisself… don’t try to stop him, he knows what he can do better than we do… Good luck and I hope to see you at the bottom.”

  Stepping off and down the slope the fat was in the fire, and there was no turning back. Bud was breathing down my neck, and Dog had moved out ahead of me. This part of the slope was wooded and studded with boulders of every size and shape. I tried to weave my way through them as I would if I was on a horse’s back. The greatest danger here was deadfalls. Getting tangled up in ‘em could easily cost a man or horse a broken leg. And that could be a death sentence.

  All we could do was use what nature gave us, but we had the choices of how we used it. Wise choices are always best, but sometimes the wisest choice wasn’t in the best interest of a lot of people. The wisest choice would be to go back and go the long way around. But by the time that happened, those folks below could be up to their necks in hired guns and burning cabins. I was just hoping that Bell had been able to talk some sense into them. Adams would be able to back him up some.

  The first hundred feet were slow going because of the trees, but it got better the next hundred feet. The pines had thinned out, and the cedars took over along with an ample amount of brush. We made good time from there on to the slide area.

  The slide didn’t look any better close up than it did from a long way off. It was all loose gravel, sand, and dinner plate sized flat rock with plenty of boulders that had fallen from up above. The angle of the slope had dropped off to something all mighty steep. At that angle, I could just imagine the whole mess heading for the bottom with just a little encouragement.

  Dog wasn’t eager to start down and Bud was snorting and tossing his head. If the animals were showing good sense, the only thing I could do was lead them by sheer stupidity. So off I stepped into a mixture of loose sand and gravel. My first boot went ankle deep, and by the time I got it out I was moving downhill at a quicker pace than I wanted. It was all I could do to keep my feet out in front of my chest because if my chest ever caught up, I’d be going down head first. And that wasn’t going to work for long.

  I heard Crawford yell, “Heaahh.!” He must have given Bud a little kick in the ribs to go with it because I heard them coming behind me. Dog was going down backward trying to get traction with a digging motion. He slid on past me, and he wasn’t having a great time or a lot of fun.

  Three quarters of the way down, had taken a very short time to reach, and I thought just maybe it was going to be all right. I could see the talus spread out at the bottom in a much gentler slope. But I could also hear Crawford screaming my name. Chancing a look back, I could see that buckskin and his passenger bearing down on me from behind.

  Bud’s forelegs were in the air and in the sand all at the same time. He was on his rump and trying to stab his front hooves into that loose mixture to stop himself. It wasn’t working. I had no time to think. All I could do was react, which meant fling myself off to the right and out of the way.

  As they went by, I could see Crawford low over the saddle and hanging on for dear life, and the horse was in a state of panic with legs flailing and eyes showing a lot of white. That was all I could see before I landed and started rolling. My goal was to bunch up and slow down, but I couldn’t draw my legs up. The force of the roll kept them pulled out straight.

  I didn’t need to worry about stopping because nature had provided a way for me. It came in the form of a boulder… not a big one but big enough to stop me and knock the wind out of me. Laying there spitting sand and dirt and blood, while I was trying
to learn how to breathe again, I found an old friend from years past…a broken or bruised rib or ribs. My experience with ribs had not been pleasant in the past, and I wasn’t expecting this one to be any bed of roses.

  Trying to sit up brought about a string of vile words, but I still had more if I needed them. And I used a good part of that reserve when I pushed myself up. Finally getting to my feet, I looked at the next twenty or so feet wondering if I’d be better off pulling my gun and finishing myself off. But who’d scratch Dog’s ear if I did.

  So standing as erect as I could under the circumstances and taking only little breaths, I made my way to the bottom.

  “You all right, Cain?” the scarecrow sitting in my saddle asked.

  Through clinched teeth I said, “Ain’t nothin’ but a busted rib… It’ll mend in time… I think I might have maybe ten or twelve more… Damn! That was my favorite one too.”

  Poor scarecrow didn’t know what to make of me, and I wasn’t too awful sure I did either, but it’s always been my way to laugh at things that won’t kill you or harm someone else. But laughing sometimes can make a man wince.

  I gave the buckskin a quick going over to make sure he came through in sound condition. He had a few nicks and cuts, and I imagine he had a sore butt, and he was ready to get away from that cursed slide. I stroked his neck and told him, “Boy, this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you.” With that said, I put my foot in the stirrup and my right hand on the cantle pulled up behind Crawford. I took little satisfaction in knowing what I’d said to Bud was true.

  I pointed in the direction of Dee Wells’ barn and we took off in a hurry, with Dog loping along beside us. It was a short ride of about a mile, but it seemed like it took forever with that rib reminding me with every shift of my weight that I wasn’t near as tough as I thought I was.