Deadwood Gulch

CHAPTER 16

The next morning dawned very cold but clear, the clouds that brought the snow flurries the day before having moved on. As the sun rose, the wagon with Chloride at the reins rolled out of Deadwood. It didn’t carry any supplies this time, but in the compartment under the seat rode a canvas pouch containing a partial payroll for the miners at the Golden Queen. Martha couldn’t yet afford to pay them everything she owed them, but it was a good start.

The presence of the payroll was another reason for the troopers to accompany the wagon. Bo seriously doubted that even as audacious a bunch of owlhoots as the Deadwood Devils would attack the wagon with a bunch of cavalry troopers riding behind it.

When they stopped at midday, Lieutenant Holbrook came over to Bo and Scratch and asked, “When will we reach the mine?”

“Probably around the middle of the afternoon,” Bo replied. “We can make better time with an empty wagon than with one loaded down with gold.”

Holbrook nodded. “Good. That will give us time to begin our search for the outlaws’ hideout today.”

“You don’t want to spend the night at the mine and start looking in the morning?”

“And waste several hours?” Holbrook shook his head. “I think not.”

Bo and Scratch glanced at each other. Like most young officers, Holbrook was eager to make his mark and get started on his climb up the ranks.

Scratch said, “That’s fine, Lieutenant. Don’t get your hopes up too high, though. This is a smart bunch. They ain’t gonna be easy to find.”

“Well, we won’t find them if we don’t look, will we?” Holbrook said crisply. He walked off before Bo or Scratch could say anything else.

Scratch rubbed his jaw and mused, “We’ve run across shavetails like that one before.”

“Yeah, and they usually wind up in trouble,” Bo said. “We may have our work cut out for us, partner.”

“We usually do,” Scratch said with a smile.

The little caravan arrived at the mine in the middle of the afternoon, as Bo predicted. Andrew Keefer was surprised to see the cavalry, and so were the other men. Holbrook shook hands with the mine superintendent and asked, “Any sign of those outlaws in the past two days?”

Keefer shook his head. “No, but that’s to be expected. They don’t bother the mines themselves. They just hold up anybody who tries to get any gold out over the trail to Deadwood.”

“We’ll soon put a stop to that,” Holbrook promised with a curt nod. He looked at Bo and Scratch. “We’ll rest the horses for a quarter of an hour and then pull out. Do you have a plan as to where we’ll begin the search?”

“I’ve been thinking on it,” Bo said. He turned to Keefer. “Do you have a map of the area in your office?”

“Several of them. Do you want to have a look?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

Scratch said, “You go ahead, Bo. I’ll tend to the horses and make sure they get watered.”

“You’ll have to break the ice in the trough,” Keefer warned. “It keeps freezing over.”

Scratch nodded and led the mounts toward the corral. Sergeant Gustaffson was already making sure the enlisted men cared for their horses.

Bo went into the superintendent’s office with Keefer. Lieutenant Holbrook followed. Bo would have preferred to study the maps without Holbrook being there, but he couldn’t very well send the officer away. Even though he and Scratch were civilians, technically they were under Holbrook’s command at the moment.

Keefer cleared off his desk, took several maps from a map case on the wall, and unrolled one of them on top of the desk. All three men gathered around it. It was a topographical map, and Bo had no trouble picking out Deadwood Gulch, Whitewood Gulch, and the numerous smaller canyons.

“Where are all the big mines?” Bo asked.

Keefer pointed them out with a blunt finger. “The Homestake . . . the Father De Smet . . . the Argosy . . . the Golden Queen right here, of course . . .” He named off half a dozen others and tapped their locations on the map.

“All the mines are located in the gulches instead of on top of the ridges,” Bo said.

“Well, yes,” Keefer agreed. “It’s not necessarily easier to dig a shaft horizontally than it is to sink one vertically, but it’s easier to get the ore out of the horizontal shafts. Plus the pockets of gold-bearing quartz tend to run horizontally, although they can take off at strange angles in some cases.”

Bo leaned over the map and paid particular attention to the locations of the Argosy and the Golden Queen relative to each other. The Argosy was on the southern slope of Deadwood Gulch, while the Golden Queen was on the northern side of the smaller canyon. That meant there was nothing between the two mines except a ridge that was about a mile wide.

He filed that information away in his head and used a finger to trace one of the ridges. “What’s up here?” he asked.

Keefer frowned. “You mean on top of that ridge?”

“I mean on top of all the ridges.”

“Not much of anything, as far as I know. Trees and a lot of rocks.”

“So there’s no reason for any of the miners to go up there.”

Keefer shook his head. “No. All our work is down in the gulches.”

Lieutenant Holbrook said excitedly, “I know what you’re thinking, Creel. You believe that the outlaws are hiding on top of one of these ridges.”

“It’s a possibility,” Bo said. “The gulches are pretty heavily traveled, or at least they were until the Devils started, well, raising hell.”

“Most of the slopes around here are pretty steep,” Keefer pointed out. “It would be hard getting horses up and down them. A lot of places it would be impossible.”

“There wouldn’t have to be a lot of places you could reach the top on horseback,” Bo said. “Just one good one.”

“Then that’s where we’ll start,” Holbrook declared. Bo tapped the map and asked Keefer, “Any chance we can take this with us?”

The superintendent nodded. “I’ve got others, so you’re welcome to that one.”

“Is there a place around here where we can get up on the ridge? I didn’t see any between here and Deadwood Gulch.”

“Keep going up the canyon,” Keefer said. “The slope gets a little easier after about a mile.”

“Excellent,” Holbrook said with a nod. “Thank you, Mr. Keefer.”

“My pleasure. I hope you find the scoundrels and deal harshly with them when you do.”

“You can rest assured of that, sir,” Holbrook said, “on both counts.”

Bo still thought they should wait until morning to begin the search, but Holbrook wouldn’t hear of it. He liked Bo’s idea that the outlaw hideout was located somewhere on top of one of the ridges and wanted to put it to the test.

As the troops got ready to move out, Chloride came up to Bo and Scratch and said quietly, “You fellas be careful out there. I’ve seen men like that lieutenant before. They think they know everything, and before you know it, they’re neck-deep in trouble. Don’t let him get you killed.”

“We’ll try not to,” Scratch said.

Bo added, “I’ve got a hunch Sergeant Gustaffson knows what he’s doing. He can steer the lieutenant in the right direction.”

Chloride grunted. “If Holbrook will listen to him. I’m bettin’ the odds are against that.”

“Don’t worry about us, old-timer,” Scratch said with a grin. “We can take care of ourselves.”

Chloride snatched his hat off his head and said, “There you go again with that old-timer business! I swear—” He stopped short and shrugged. “What the hell. I am older than you. Probably ain’t many who can say that!” He clapped his hat back on his head and stuck out his hand. “Good luck, boys.”

The Texans both shook with him, then mounted up. Gustaffson had the troopers ready to ride. Holbrook said, “Give the order, Sergeant.”

Gustaffson bellowed the command and waved the men forward as Holbrook, Bo, and Scratch led the way. Some of the miners turned out to watch. They waved their caps over their heads as the cavalrymen trotted away, moving deeper into the canyon.

As Keefer had said, after the riders had gone about a mile, the slope of the canyon to their right fell away at a gentler angle. It was still covered with trees and rocks, but Bo thought that if the troopers dismounted, they might be able to lead their horses to the top. He pointed that out to Holbrook and suggested, “Let Scratch and me try it first.”

“Very well,” the lieutenant agreed. He signaled a halt.

The Texans rode to the base of the slope and swung down from their saddles. Holding tight to the reins, they started up. The horses balked a little at first but soon came on, climbing the slope with relative ease. Bo and Scratch tried to pick the route that would give the animals the least trouble.

When they made it to the top of the ridge, they found themselves with a spectacular view spread out before them. The late afternoon sun washed over the Black Hills in all their rugged glory. Down in the gulches, people got used to being closed in with dark slopes all around them and only a strip of sky above. Up here a man could breathe better, it seemed to Bo.

“Do we have to go back down there and fetch that stiff-necked lieutenant?” Scratch asked.

Bo chuckled. “I reckon we’d better. He and those troopers will come in handy when we find the Devils.”

“You don’t figure we could handle that bunch of owlhoots by ourselves?”

“Well, maybe. But I’d rather have the cavalry on our side, too.” Bo handed Scratch his reins. “I’ll go back down. You take a look around up here.”

Going down the hill was almost as painful for stiff joints as climbing up it, but Bo was soon back on the floor of the canyon with Lieutenant Holbrook, Sergeant Gustaffson, and the rest of the patrol. Bo told them that the way up was manageable, then said, “Follow me.”

The soldiers led their mounts by the reins like Bo and Scratch had. It was slow going, since they had to proceed single file, but eventually all the troopers made it to the top of the ridge.

By that time the sun had sunk considerably lower. Bo said, “If we keep going, Lieutenant, we run the risk of falling off a cliff in the bad light. It would be better to make camp here.”

He could tell that Holbrook wanted to squeeze out every minute of the day, but after a moment the young officer nodded. “All right,” Holbrook said. “Sergeant, tell the men to make camp. There’s enough level ground here to pitch the tents.”

“Yes, sir.”

It was true. The ridge was almost a mile wide, Bo knew from studying the map in Andrew Keefer’s office, and while it was covered with thick stands of trees and a jumble of boulders, it was fairly level, unlike some of the ridges that came to an almost razor-like crest. This one twisted off to the southwest for several miles before rising into higher, even more rugged terrain.

As Gustaffson ordered the men to pitch their tents and build cook fires, Scratch advised, “It might be a good idea to keep those fires small, Sergeant. Hide ’em amongst the rocks, too.”

Holbrook overheard the advice and said, “Why would we want to do that?”

“Build big fires and you’re telling the world where you are,” Bo said.

“You mean we’ll be announcing our position to the enemy.”

“That’s what he just said,” Scratch drawled.

“It’s cold up here. The men need hot food, and they need warmth from the fires as well. Sergeant, have the men build their fires as big as they can.”

“Lieutenant—” Bo began.

“Really, Mr. Creel,” Holbrook interrupted, “if these so-called Devils are as cunning as everyone seems to believe they are, don’t you think they already know we’re out here looking for them?”

As much as Bo hated to admit it, Holbrook had a point. Everybody in Deadwood had heard about how the cavalry was riding out today to look for the outlaws and their hideout. At the very least, the Devils had spies in the settlement. If Bo’s hunch was correct, some of the gang even lived there. No doubt the word had already long since gone out to the members of the gang at the hideout.

Still, having the Devils know that they were somewhere in the Black Hills was a heap different from making their exact location obvious to anybody with eyes for miles around. Bo could only hope that Holbrook’s stubbornness wouldn’t come back to cause trouble for them.

As night fell and the Texans tended to their horses, Scratch looked at the campfires blazing brightly and murmured, “I’m startin’ to wonder if this is such a good place to spend the night after all, Bo.”

“Yeah, the same thought occurred to me,” Bo said. “Those fires are pretty much an engraved invitation to an ambush. I think Olaf knows it, too. I saw him talking to the lieutenant a few minutes ago, and Holbrook didn’t look happy about it. Looked like he chewed out the sarge and told him to mind his own business.”

“Gustaffson ain’t the type to disobey an order, either, even when he knows it’s loco.”

“No,” Bo agreed, “he’s not. But we’re civilians, and if we want to slip off a ways and find a place to hole up for the night that’s not right out in the open, Holbrook can’t stop us.”

Scratch nodded. “Maybe someplace where we can keep an eye on those soldier boys without them knowin’ it.”

“That’s what I had in mind.”

“Better tell Gustaffson, so if the shavetail comes lookin’ for us, somebody’ll know where to find us.”

“Yeah, but we won’t tell Holbrook. No need for him to know about it unless there’s trouble.”

“Right.” Scratch patted his horse’s shoulder. “You know, some folks say that devils like to roam around in the darkness. Tonight, I got a hunch they’re right.”