The Copper City - Chris Scott Wilson [29]
After the first tentative mouthful of hot beans under Pete’s amused glance, Quantro had to admit Pete was right. He chewed slowly, then without a word wolfed down the whole plateful.
“Any more?”
Pete sniffed and said dryly, “Creosote brush. You must be foolin’. Can’t cook on that,” in the tone of voice Quantro had used.
“Okay, old-timer, you convinced me. I don’t get bellyache in the morning I’ll believe you.”
“More chow’ll cost you a smoke.”
Quantro tossed over his tobacco sack. “You got it, now pass those beans.”
Pete caught the tobacco and put it behind his back, then leaned over the remnants of the fire to look into the kettle. When he looked up he smiled sweetly.
“Ain’t that a shame. There ain’t none left.”
***
Quantro woke and peered out from beneath the huddle of his blanket into the coming morning. There were still a few minutes before sun-up, the sky lightening in the east over the rim of the canyon, slowly herding the stars into purgatory for another day.
He spared a quick thought for White-Wing, warm and snug in their cot back in the little house in Cananea, and cursed himself for having to spend a cold night on hard ground, chasing a murderer and thief who had stolen money it wasn’t his duty to get back. He scowled. He was here and he was doing it and it was cold, so what was the use of bellyaching about it? Not wanting to brood, he came up out of his blanket and started to work the stiffness out of his muscles.
He shivered, the pre-dawn chill still crawling up his back as he went to the pool. The water had cleared again after the horses churned it up last night. He splashed a double handful into his face only to flinch from the iciness of it. He used his bandana as a towel, then looked around for the buckskin.
The two horses had wandered along the canyon out of sight of the camp, in search of forage. He decided he’d better find out how far they had strayed. He didn’t want to be chasing them after sun-up, he wanted to be out on the trail. The closer he kept to Upton, the better chance he had of catching him.
He left the pool and started off, walking between the high walls in the opposite direction to the entrance. Around a bed and there was the buckskin and Pete’s pony both cropping at a clump of bleached grass. He clucked and the stallion lifted its head. Still chewing, it ambled toward him. He stretched out to rub its neck as the horse nuzzled into his shoulder. Absently, his eyes wandered around the canyon walls, the rock features becoming more distinct with each second closer to the day.
Pete’s pony started forward, then circled widely around a huge boulder that stood at the base of the rock wall, as if something it was afraid of lurked there. Probably a rattlesnake. Quantro’s hand dipped and came up holding his Colt. He pushed the stallion away and went over to take a look.
He didn’t like what he found.
“Pete! Pete! Get on over here!”
CHAPTER 7
Pete shucked out of his blanket, eyes wide. He was on his feet with his rifle in his hands before he realized he wasn’t still dreaming. Automatically, he had fallen into a straddle-legged crouch, ready to fight.
“Quantro?” he called softly, looking around.
“Over here. Come and look at this.”
Relaxing, Pete set off toward the bend from where Quantro’s voice seemed to be coming. Dawn was upon them now, a rosy glow haloing the canyon. The first rush of adrenaline petered out and Pete’s emotions leveled off as he came within sight of the horses. Spying Quantro by the big boulder, he went over.
“Look at this.”
Pete’s eyes roamed over the two bloody bodies, one piled on top of the other in the shadow of