Spanish Gold by Kevin Randle Read Free Book Online Page B

anymore,” said Davis. “No reason for them to attack you unless you started it.”
    Kincaid had looked at Davis but had not replied. He joined them, not because they were going for the gold, but because there were so many of them riding toward El Paso. The gold was secondary.
    Now they were sitting around a campfire while two men worked at cooking something to eat. A jackrabbit that Whitney had shot, some beans they had bought in the store in Sweetwater, and coffee boiled in a blackened pot.
    â€œHow long ago you run into those Indians?” asked Jason Culhaine. He had been working in the general store for free food, a place to sleep, and a buck a week spending money.
    â€œWatched them for a couple of days,” said Thomas Kincaid. “Saw them in the distance, saw their fire at night, but didn’t think much of it.”
    â€œYeah,” said Davis. “If they let you see them, then they weren’t worried about you. You see the army?
    â€œWhich one?”
    â€œHell, either one. Rebels been working with some of the tribes, and the Federals have been trying to protect the settlers in the territories. Some militia around charged with that job.”
    â€œDidn’t see any soldiers,” said Kincaid. “Didn’t see anybody but the Indians.”
    George Bailey was crouched near the fire holding onto the wooden handle of a huge pot. He was stirring the beans in it, letting them heat slowly. Bailey had done odd jobs for whoever needed things done. He had been only too happy to get out of Sweetwater.
    â€œFood’s about done,” he said.
    Davis got up and walked over to where the horses were tethered. He reached into his saddlebag and brought out a bottle. One of the few that he had taken from the saloon before he closed the doors, locking them.
    He returned to the fire and sat down again. ‘Tomorrow we should reach El Paso. In celebration, I brought this.”
    Kincaid held out his cup. “I could use that.”
    Bailey glanced over his shoulder. “You never told us why the Indians attacked you.”
    â€œI don’t know. We were breaking camp when they appeared on the ridge looking down on us. Maybe then, twelve of them, sitting there, just watching us. I didn’t like it. Neither did Isaac. We decided it was time to get out. We mounted and began to ride off. Slowly. They started down after us and a moment later the chase was on.”
    â€œSo you left him,” said Bailey.
    â€œHis horse went down. I stopped and turned, but they were on him. Nothing I could do for him except get killed myself. I got out.”
    â€œNoble,” said Davis.
    â€œWhat the hell would you have done?” asked Kincaid, his voice rising in anger.
    â€œShot him,” said Davis quietly, staring into Kincaid’s dark eyes. “Shot him myself so them savages wouldn’t have him to torture.”
    â€œSure,” said Kincaid. “Sure.”
    Bailey lifted the pot out of the fire and set it on the ground to his left. Steam rolled off the top of it as the beans bubbled. He looked at Davis. “What do we do once we get to El Paso?”
    â€œWe lay in the supplies we need, plus the pack animals for a couple of weeks in the desert. Once we find the gold, we dump the excess food, load the animals and make our way to the nearest town.”
    â€œYou know where the gold is?” asked Kincaid.
    Davis turned to face the other man. “I have a good idea about that. It’s one that I don’t care to share with anyone right now.”
    â€œHell,” said Bailey, “that old coot said there was more than enough for all of us. Too much for us to carry away. Enough to make us all rich.”
    â€œRight,” said Davis. “I just want to make sure I have my chance to carry some of it away. Once we find it, it’s every man for himself.”
    â€œWhat about the Apaches?” asked Bailey. He nodded toward Kincaid. “Sounds