Trail to Devil's Canyon Read online

  He wanted to confront his former stepson, but this was not the place and there was certainly no time anyway. In fact, they barely had time to collect their shells and resume posts. Now Dave Calhoun was inside, and Will Alvord was loping ahead of Grayson Weathers as they passed Reverend Burt Roberts’ wagon. The two settlers barged through the door as Anton and Lucy started across the parade ground.

  Drums once again began throbbing as Anton strode past the well.

  There was hardly a shadow in the stockade. The sun was almost directly overhead. A lone vulture circled the outpost like a messenger of death.

  Anton booted the door wide and walked straight into the naked muzzle of Trooper Hal Yacey’s rifle.

  ‘Don’t move, Old Moscow,’ Judd Reed warned, ‘or Yacey here will blow your guts all over the floor.’

  With Yacey’s rifle point jammed against his belly, Anton froze in the doorway.

  He heard Lucy Doniphon’s startled gasp right behind him.

  All five settlers were lined up against the far wall with their hands raised above their heads. Their holsters were empty, and their hardware heaped on the floor. Judd and Trooper Ben Copeland were covering the settlers while Loomis stood unsteadily in the center of the room. The wounded trooper clutched a rifle in his shaking hands.

  ‘It was a damnable lie!’ Reverend Burt Roberts fumed. ‘There is no spare ammunition! Like trusting sheep, we came inside one by one, so they could disarm us, Anton. . . ‘

  ‘What is goin’ on, Judd?’ Anton demanded in cold fury. ‘This is no time for games. The Paiute warriors are about to—’

  ‘Only if they don’t get what they want,’ the army cavalry officer grinned.

  ‘Walk!’ Hal Yacey snarled. The trooper stepped to one side, his rifle still aimed at Anton’s belly. ‘Join your sodbuster friends, Old Moscow.’

  ‘Do as you are told, Anton!’ Judd snarled.

  Slowly, Anton Kozlov started to walk towards the line of settlers.

  ‘Anton!’ Lucy screamed behind him. ‘Look out—’

  Anton threw himself sideways, but Yacey’s rifle butt smashed into his neck. He crashed heavily to the floor. Dazed but still conscious, he groped for his gun and cleared leather. His head spun as Hal Yacey’s bulky frame loomed over him. The rifle butt came down hard again, and darkness engulfed him like a black, evil tide.

  ‘Woman, trying to warn my stepfather that way was a damn stupid thing to do,’ Judd Reed grated. ‘Don’t you ever cross me again, old-timer!’

  Lucy did not budge. Wet-eyed and trembling, she simply stared at the unconscious figure sprawled on the dusty floor. When she looked up at the man she had come so far to marry, there was hatred in her eyes.

  ‘Move, ma’am,’ Trooper Hal Yacey prodded.

  ‘And close your eyes,’ the lieutenant advised her. ‘These settlers are about to strip naked.’

  The five settlers stared at the lieutenant in absolute bewilderment.

  ‘What kind of abomination is this?’ Reverend Burt Roberts’ voice boomed.

  ‘You heard the lieutenant – take your clothes off,’ Trooper Ben Copeland commanded sternly.

  ‘Strip down! All of you! Pronto!’ Yacey echoed harshly.

  ‘NOW!’ Judd Reed rasped, pointing his rifle at the preacher’s head.

  Cursing and muttering, the five unwilling settlers unbuttoned their shirts reluctantly. Hesitantly, they then began to unbuckle their belts. They attempted to delay the process as much as they could by moving slowly.

  ‘Lieutenant, I don’t like this – I don’t like this one bit, sir,’ young Trooper Alan Loomis protested strongly.

  ‘You shut your trap,’ Judd told the wounded cavalryman, ‘and keep your gun trained on these settlers.’

  Finally, five – all but one wore white, the Reverend wore a more traditional red union suit – all were complete with button placket fronts, button rear ‘fireman’s flap’ with thick wrist and ankle cuffs – embarrassed men in faded long underwear stood facing the soldiers.

  ‘Lieutenant Reed, I demand an explanation!’ Reverend Burt Roberts roared.

  ‘Be patient, Reverend,’ Judd said mockingly. ‘Isn’t that what the Good Book teaches us?’ He ran a critical eye along the row of half-dressed settlers. ‘What do you reckon, Hal? Will we fit them all?’ Yacey surveyed the burly preacher and said, ‘The reverend is built like a damn buffalo, but I figure he will just squeeze into mine.’

  ‘This is crazy talk—’ Jed Bliss stormed.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ Judd announced with an icy grin plastered on his face, ‘you are all gonna join the cavalry. I will cover you while you shuck off,’ Judd said, turning to address his troopers then.

  ‘You must be the lowest snakes ever to crawl out of hell,’ the Reverend Roberts croaked as Trooper Tuck Gravens sauntered inside and unbuttoned his blue tunic.

  ‘So, you have cottoned on, have you?’ Lieutenant Judd Reed smirked. ‘Congratulations! Chief Iron Crow wants some cavalrymen. Well, we are going to give him what he asked for.’

  ‘You lousy bastards!’ Grayson Weathers cried hoarsely.

  ‘Think of it this way – you are being sacrificed so your womenfolk can live,’ Yacey grinned.

  ‘And rest assured, we will be looking after your women,’ Ben Copeland chuckled merrily.

  ‘May God forgive you, because we won’t!’ Reverend Roberts whispered.

  ‘It is a military decision,’ Judd shrugged. ‘And the decision has been made.’

  ‘Damn you all to hell!’ Preacher Roberts thundered.

  ‘Time for talk’s over now, Preacher,’ Judd snapped angrily. ‘Get into those uniforms, pronto! And troopers, you keep your guns trained on them while I change my clothes.’

  Crying silently, Lucy stood with her back to the wall. Upstairs, she heard the children crying as well.

  ‘What about him?’ Hal Yacey asked, pointing to Anton Kozlov’s sprawled body.

  ‘When they built this place, they dug out the cellar,’ Judd recalled. ‘There is a trapdoor in the corner. I will dump him down there and bolt it shut. There is no other way out.’

  ‘Why don’t I just slit his throat and be done with it?’ Yacey suggested coldly.

  Judd Reed hesitated. ‘He is a fool, but he did love my mother once, goddamn deserves better than that. The rats can take care of him, I reckon.’

  ‘And just like that, you can wash your hands free of him?’ Burt Roberts remarked acidly.

  The lieutenant ignored the preacher’s jibe.

  ‘We have no time to lose. The women upstairs will be wondering what is taking so long here. Yacey! Gravens! Take them all to the wagon, gag and tie them all up . . . and that includes my woman.’

  Lucy Doniphon gave Judd a harsh look of defiance. ‘I am not your woman – not anymore,’ she sobbed.

  ‘We will see about that,’ Judd replied harshly.

  High noon was only a few minutes away when three men with guns prodded the uniformed prisoners across the parade ground of the stockade. Outside the fort, there was silence now as the Paiute warriors waited for Chief Iron Crow’s order.

  Reverend Burt Roberts was praying out loud. ‘Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I know that you always hear me.’

  Jed Bliss and Grayson Weathers stumbled. Will Alvord sweated and swore with every step. Dave Calhoun remained silent, not saying one word. The lieutenant ordered Alan Loomis to open the gate, and the wounded soldier went on ahead. Loomis struggled to lift the iron bar with his one good arm.

  For a long, terrible moment, the five settlers clad in blue uniforms simply stood and stared at the blood-hungry Paiute Indians. The wind dropped. Nothing moved.

  ‘So long, fellas!’ Judd said, prodding Bliss’ back with his rifle.

  ‘C’mon now, walk!’ Trooper Ben Copeland told Will Alvord and Dave Calhoun whom he held at gunpoint.

  Alan Loomis swallowed. Preacher Roberts had tended his wound. Now he could not look him in the face.

  He was ashamed.
r />   It was the reverend who went first. He took a few tentative steps out of the stockade, and then Will Alvord joined him. A hundred Paiute Indians nudged their ponies slowly forward. Judd gave Bliss a shove with his rifle point. The settler fell to his knees and stayed there, crying like a kid. Weathers looked frantically at the oncoming bronze tide and then began to walk.

  Calhoun was the last to go. He faced Judd Reed and actually smiled. It was a cold, deadly smile.

  ‘I will see you in hell,’ he said and then spat at the officer.

  Then he helped Bliss to his feet as Loomis slammed the gate behind them.

  Judd heard another drum beat. It was the slow, ominous advance of a hundred ponies. Suddenly, an earsplitting scream rose above the hoofbeats. Judd watched through a chink in the logs. Uttering hideous cries of triumph, the riders surged towards the five sacrifices. Within seconds, the foremost riders surrounded the white men. They sprang from their horses and swooped on their prey. Four uniformed men were dragged to the ground. Reverend Burt Roberts stayed on his feet, bellowing a prayer and breaking one brave’s neck with his bare hands before he went under. The Paiute Indians clawed and punched and bit and kicked in a savage frenzy of hatred. Then Judd saw Iron Claw ride through the milling warriors. The chief spoke an order, and the braves backed away from the five men spread-eagled in the dust. The settlers were all breathing, but their faces were battered and bloody. The blue uniforms were in tatters.

  Iron Crow turned in the saddle and pointed to five small fires. The braves raised their fists in elation and began to drag the victims towards the fires.

  ‘Lieutenant,’ Trooper Alan Loomis stammered, ‘those – men out there . . ‘

  ‘It was us or them,’ the lieutenant said bluntly. ‘Now, help to load the wagon, Trooper. Get to it!’

  As Judd strode across the parade ground, he heard a long, drawn-out scream from outside the stockade walls. Apparently unmoved, he stopped only to pick up a broken shingle lying in the dust. He saw the womenfolk being herded towards the waiting wagon. They had all been gagged, and their wrists were tied behind their backs. Even the children had received the same treatment. When Clara Weathers, red-faced and puffing, sank against the side of the wooden wagon, Trooper Tuck Gravens jabbed her with his rifle.

  Anton Kozlov still lay motionless on the floor. Unceremoniously, Judd dragged his rangy body to the trapdoor. The door creaked on rusty hinges as he pulled it open. The hole in the ground stank of musty, stale air. Without hesitating, Judd heaved his former stepfather to the square hole and shoved him down. Anton hit the cellar floor with a dull thud. Judd closed the trapdoor at once. Then he forced the thin edge of the shingle into the gap around the trapdoor, wedging it tight. He returned to the square just as Lucy was being forced into the wagon with the other women.

  ‘Yacey, hold on a minute,’ he called, ‘I want to say something to my bride.’

  ‘Do you want her to be able to answer you back?’ Hal Yacey asked.

  Judd Reed nodded. ‘Sure, take off her gag.’

  Arms folded, Judd waited.

  ‘The gags are just a precaution,’ he calmly told Lucy. ‘It would not do for a woman to start screaming and yelling just yet. That might let those savages out there know that something is amiss.’

  ‘You pig!’ Lucy choked as Yacey ripped away the bandanna.

  ‘Shut your beautiful mouth and listen to me, Lucy,’ Judd said harshly.

  ‘We are headed south to the border. There are bandits and renegades down there who will pay good money for a wagonload of women, and we will know there is nobody left to tell what really happened here.’

  His eye raked her as he added, ‘On our way back, we will get new uniforms and simply ride up to Fort Bighorn like nothing ever happened. We will say we had to dodge the hostile Paiute Indians and their chief, Iron Crow. . . .’

  He took two steps and stared down at her, face-to-face.

  ‘Lucy, I am gonna give you a choice. It is only for you, not any of the other women, you hear me? You can forget what has happened and ride back as Lieutenant Reed’s bride – or you can end up like the rest of the womenfolk, a bandit’s whore.’

  ‘Go to hell, Judd Reed!’ she cried.

  ‘Don’t get all high and mighty with me, Lucy. You think I don’t know there has to be a reason for you to come all this way to find a man?’ He said that with a certain amount of contempt.

  ‘I will not marry you,’ Lucy said with cold dignity. ‘The very thought of it makes my skin crawl and my stomach turn!’

  ‘Throw the bitch into the wagon with the other women,’ Judd said to Yacey.

  The trooper nodded gleefully and said, ‘Sure thing, Lieutenant.’

  ‘Think about this, Miss Doniphon,’ Judd said as Hal Yacey gagged her again. ‘I will get my money’s worth on the way to Mexico. I paid twenty bucks and a hundred bucks delivery fee for you. I will start collecting what is owed me tonight . . mark my words.’

  Yacey bundled the woman into the wagon without care.

  ‘Reckon we are ready to move out now,’ Trooper Tuck Gravens said.

  ‘Loomis, sit inside the wagon and guard the women,’ Judd Reed ordered. ‘Should not be a big chore and one you can certainly handle. They all have their wrists tied behind their backs and their mouths are gagged.’ He addressed Trooper Copeland then: ‘You get behind the reins and take it real slow. I just want those horses to pull the wagon nice and easy-like so those savage Indians don’t get too curious. Yacey and Gravens, mount up and ride in front of the wagon with me.’

  As Gravens leaned from the saddle and opened the gate wide, an agonized scream knifed through the silence. Judd glanced at the Paiute Indian horde. Every bronze warrior had dismounted to ring the five tiny fires. Jed Bliss had already been lifted over his fire and lashed to two stakes. Squirming and screaming, he hung there helplessly as his clothes began to smoke. Death by torture was excruciatingly painful. The slow fires took a long time to roast a man to death.

  Judd Reed turned his face away.

  Ben Copeland turned the team of horses towards the pass, and the big Conestoga wagon lumbered away from the outpost. Judd heard the muffled groans of the gagged women. Bliss’ screams mingled now with the terrified yells of Grayson Weathers.

  ‘They have seen us,’ Hal Yacey said.

  Several of the Paiute warriors had left the torture fires to gather in a bunch just north of the trail. The sun glittered on their rifles.

  ‘Just ignore them. Keep riding,’ the lieutenant advised calmly.

  Bellowing like a bull, Reverend Burt Roberts had just been hoisted over his personal hell fire.

  ‘I think they are suspicious.’ Tuck Gravens sweated. ‘Hell, this isn’t natural. Here we are, just riding away while other whites are being tortured to death, lieutenant.’

  ‘We are saving our own hides,’ Judd replied tersely. ‘Even those savages understand that. Now quit worrying and head for the pass.’

  More Indians turned from the fires to watch. Now even Judd felt pin pricks of cold sweat begin to bead his brow. The two mounted warriors urged their ponies into a walk, riding adjacent to the swaying wagon. Suddenly the warriors around the fourth fire raised cries of elation. The Paiute Indians observing the riders and their wagon looked back. All the attention was on Dave Calhoun. He did not scream as the heat seared his cavalry uniform. His apparent disregard of pain held their admiration.

  Meanwhile, Judd Reed’s riders edged further away, each man with a settler’s horse roped behind his own. Within minutes, they had left the grassy flat. The stockade walls receded. The screams of the tortured faded and finally died on the wind. Shadows began to finger Devil’s Canyon as the riders approached the mouth of the pass. At the lieutenant’s signal, Copeland flicked his reins over the wagon team, urging them to pull harder. They reached the pass, and then Judd pointed to the south. Copeland turned the wagon team.

  The shadows then deepened.

  ‘Lieutenant! Lieutenant Reed!’


  The hoarse cry came from the lurching wagon. Copeland pulled the team to a halt, and the big Conestoga wagon shuddered to a standstill. Muttering, Judd Reed rode to the rear of the wagon and opened the loose canvas flap.

  ‘What is up, Trooper Loomis?’

  Alan Loomis was still rubbing his eyes. He sat hunched over his rifle among the jumble of women who were still bound but no longer gagged.

  ‘Lieutenant,’ Loomis confessed. ‘I – I fell asleep.’

  ‘Did you stop us to tell me that you had failed to do your duty?’ Judd snapped.

  ‘There is a coil of rope on the wagon floor,’ Loomis pointed out miserably. ‘One of the women must have gotten free and away. . . .’

  Judd climbed into the wagon and scanned the women and children huddled together. He counted them quickly. Then he picked up the curled rope, which was sticky with blood.

  ‘You damn fool!’ he raged, smashing a fist into Alan Loomis’ upturned face.

  Chapter 8

  Canyon of the Dead

  Anton Kozlov was in total darkness. He came to, sprawled face down in thick dust. With great difficulty, he had managed to turn over and get his back against the wall. His head throbbed. There was a rather sizeable lump on the back of his neck.

  He was in a black hole, and a small hole at that.

  The last thing he remembered was walking into Hal Yacey’s gun and seeing the settlers lined up against the wall.

  What had happened after that was a mystery to him.

  Then he recalled Lucy’s frantic warning.

  ‘Anton!’ Lucy screamed behind him. ‘Look out—’

  They must have pitched him into the crudely dug cellar of the stockade. He thumped the trapdoor, tried to force it with his shoulders and then tried to grip the edges of the boards. The wooden door overhead would not budge.

  He was trapped.

  He traced his fingertips over the boards overhead, probing inch by inch for some hope of escape. One board moved slightly. His senses were still reeling from the blows to the nape of his neck. His mind was fuzzy, and the air seemed fouler all the time. He was drenched with sweat now and getting nowhere. He sat back and told himself that there was plenty of air coming in through the old floorboards. That was not the way he would die.