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expedition south of the Grandee.
Now he was out front, kneeling in the middle of the track, the noon sun
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pouring his black shadow tight around him. J. B. Dix and Ryan stood a few
paces behind him. The Trader had sent them out to try to check if anyone had
been using the old lost highway through the woods.
Garcia finally stood up and looked around. He grinned at Ryan, flashing his
solitary gold tooth. "Look empty to you, amigo?"
Ryan had some skill at tracking, but the dusty, leaf-covered stretch of road
didn't share its secrets with him.
"Sure does."
"Las apariencias engaan."
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Deathlands - Time Nomads
"How's that, Garcia? You know I don't speak that Mex stuff."
"You must not decide how good a book is by just looking at her cover, amigo.
This road, she tells many stories to me."
"Wags?" J.B. asked. That was the big question. Carson had said the redoubt
hadn't been visited by anyone from the ville, that it was just local tales. If
there were wheel marks, then he'd likely been lying to them.
"No. No wags. Not since the long winters, far as I can see."
"Horses?" Ryan asked.
"Ponies, off trail. Shoeless, so you wouldn't ride 'em on this hard pavement
less'n you had to. Ponies.
Mebbe Apache."
"Apaches? This far north?" Ryan couldn't conceal his surprise.
"Sure. Nothing like a holocaust to change the hunting grounds. Lots of the
plains people got chilled. An
Apache, he live in the canyons. Now they moved ways north. The warrior we seen
looked Apache to me.
Mebbe wrong. But I know one thing, Ryan."
"What?"
"Less my guess wrong, we see them again, before long."
Finally the trail simply ran out, as all trails eventually do, the track
stopping at the bottom of a sixty-foot cliff. There was a clearing in the
trees with an open flank to the north and dense forest to the south.
Double patrols were set on the southern side, some a quarter mile into the
woods, and another line about a hundred and fifty yards from the wags. If they
were attacked, then it would surely come from the trees.
The Trader called J.B. and Ryan, this time asking Beulah to join the
discussion.
"Map's still about right," she said. "Shows this place as where the main track
vanishes. From here you have to walk on for around four miles. Kind of steep,
I figure. But the scale's not always consistent. Could be more. Doubt it'll be
less."
"Best split up and take a foot party. No more than a dozen, well armed."
The Trader looked at both J.B. and Ryan, and they grinned back at him. The two
young men had ridden long enough with the Trader to have a shrewd guess at
what he was going to say next.
When there was the most remote scent of an undiscovered redoubt, the Trader
tended to get his priorities a little scrambled. Though he was now well into
middle age, he became like an enthusiastic young cub.
Today was no different.
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They were in an unknown and potentially very hostile environment, which called
for him to remain with the wags and delegate the patrol to either J.B. or
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Ryan.
Or to both of them.
"I'll lead with Ryan. J.B., you stay in command here."
"What a surprise, Trader." Beulah smiled. She'd already been long enough with
the pair of war wags to predict how the Trader might react when he was within
walking distance of a redoubt.
They scrambled up the steep path, with Garcia on point. The Trader and Ryan
were at the front of the supporting group of nine men and women, with Otis
bringing up the rear.
They found the entrance to the lost redoubt about thirty seconds before the
Apaches found them.
Chapter Twenty-One
THERE WERE SIGNS of a massive earth slip. It looked as if there'd once been a
well-maintained blacktop leading directly across country from the main road [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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