“I guess I did.”
I stare off toward Weavers Needle, words failing me. It’s over. It happened so fast and I don’t know what to do with myself. I feel surprisingly empty.
“What now?” I says.
“Now”—Jesse squints into the sun—“now we can go home.”
We return to the cache to get Waltz’s burro.
“Should we take some of it?” Jesse says, eyeing the gold.
“It ain’t ours to take. Remember what Liluye said?”
“But think of how much it could buy.”
“It’s tainted, Jesse, cursed. I don’t want it.”
He considers that a moment.
“I forgot,” I says, reaching into my pockets. “I held on to these for you.” I hand over the half-empty packet of dip and Will’s kerchief. Then I fuss with the gear on our burro till I’m able to yank Will’s pistol belt free. I pass that over too.
Of all the items, Jesse holds the packet of dip like it’s the greatest treasure.
“When you found him . . . was he . . . ?”
“Yeah,” I says. “I took care of it, said a few words.”
“Thanks, Kate.”
There’s tears building, his eyes big and glossy, but he don’t let them fall.
“You know, I think yer right,” he says, hardening his features. “’Bout the gold. I don’t want it neither.”
I nod, and we leave it at that.
We decide to take Rose’s extra burros. Waltz can prolly sell ’em in Phoenix and get a bit of extra coin outta the matter. It’s the least we can do for the old miner. We’d’ve been lost without his burro and the loaned prospecting gear. Plus, neither of us feels good ’bout leaving the poor creatures to starve.
When we’re back at the base of the ravine and on the potholed trail, I look up at the eastern face of the rocks. I can’t see no sign of the mine or the cache. It’s like they were never even there, like we stumbled upon another world.
“I think if we take this trail north, we’ll join up with Needle Canyon,” Jesse says. “Least, it looked that way through the binoculars from the mesa.”
I pull Pa’s journal from the back of my pants. One of the map drawings says Jesse’s theory’s true. “And then backtrack to Waltz’s?” I ask.
“I reckon so.”
A foreign whizz sounds, and something strikes the path no more than five paces before us. An arrow.
We freeze in our tracks. Even the burros seem to stop twitching their tails.
I spin round, scanning the ridges that surround us. One by one, they step into view—perhaps a half dozen in total, all men. They’s got bows held in hand, and hide shirts belted at their waists. I recognize a pair of ’em as the young men who greeted me on the mesa two days back and took me to see Liluye.
“Apache,” Jesse murmurs.
I know I should be scared. I know everything I’s ever heard suggests I should be running right now. But I just raise my palm and acknowledge that I see ’em.
One of the men I know steps forward and raises his hand in response.
I wait, breath held, expecting arrows to rain down on us like they did on the Peraltas. But the man simply turns round and leaves. The others follow, till they’s disappeared as quietly as they arrived.
“What in the . . . ?”
“I think they were just checking,” I says to Jesse. “We didn’t take any gold. We waved ’stead of running.”
Jesse shudders. “Let’s just keep moving. And fast.”
“Fine by me,” I says.
So we do.
Chapter Thirty
By the time we stumble outta Boulder Canyon two days later, Jesse and me are sweaty, sunburnt, and damn near starving. When Waltz’s shanty comes into view, my legs feel like giving out. The Salt’s glistening behind the house, sparkling and looking like heaven.
Waltz comes hobble-running to greet us, and when he sees our group’s only two large, he pulls up short.
“Where’s . . .”
I shake my head fast. Waltz drops the question, but the grimace remains on his face, not quite shielded by his beard. He’s got the decency to not tell us he tried to give fair warning.
We stagger into his tiny house for some shade, where we gulp down fresh water and wipe sweat from our brows. When I’m feeling a bit reenergized, I leave the men talking and head outside to unload the animals.
I take care of Waltz’s burro first, separating Jesse’s, Waltz’s, and my gear into different piles. Then I move on to the creature Jesse rode to the Apache stronghold while injured. Poor thing’s still got blood caked into his coat. I let them two go graze and turn to the two remaining burros—the ones we took from the cache.
Their saddlebags look heavy.
Unnaturally heavy.
I flip one open and brilliance flares up at me.
For a minute I think I’m seeing it wrong. I blink, expecting the image to change, but no. The saddlebag’s filled with gold. Some pieces the size of a fingernail, others large enough to fill my palm. I race round the burro and flip open the other saddlebag. More gold ore. So much, a few pieces rain out, spilling over my boots.
I don’t know how we didn’t see it when leaving. Were we too concerned ’bout getting home? Too blinded by stopping Rose at long last and escaping the mountains alive? Unless Jesse . . .
I check the second burro. Not as much gold packed on this one, but still enough to fill the saddlebags ’bout halfway.
I sink my hands in and grab a fistful.
“You damn rascal,” I says, plowing through Waltz’s door and holding my hands out to Jesse. “When’d you do it, ’load ’em up like that?”
“I didn’t,” he says, staring dumbstruck at the ore in my hands. His eyes are so wide, I know it’s true. “Rose musta been loading his burros before we got there.”
I feel terrible ’bout it. Like I lied to Liluye, betrayed her trust and crossed her people after all they did for us. But she did say it were fine to pick gold off the ground. And in a way, that’s what we did. It weren’t like we dug the gold from the earth, hauled it outta the mine. We weren’t even after it. We just happened to walk outta them canyons with an unknown fortune in our pockets.
I shiver, thinking ’bout those Apache scouts that watched us leave. They didn’t know, couldn’t have. We’d be bleeding out on the canyon floors like the Peraltas otherwise.
Dazed and still half numb with shock, I duck outside and head for the water. I dunk my hands in, wiping days-old dust from my arms and splashing my face. A familiar whinny sounds. It’s followed by a shove that nearly sends me stumbling into the water.
I turn and find Silver nudging at my shoulders.
“Hey, girl,” I says, putting my hands to her coat and stroking. “I missed you.”
She stomps a foot and tosses her mane.
“Yeah, just like that,” I tell her.
Mutt comes bounding my way next, but when I drop to a knee to greet him he seems to recognize me and pulls up short, growling. “I see yer opinion of me ain’t changed much.” He turns and flees the way he came, as if to show he agrees.
“Hey, Kate?”
I lurch to my feet at the nearness of Jesse’s voice. He’s standing but a few paces off, hat held in front of him.