"The Lost Diablo Curse"
by Art Isberg
Copyright ©2005
ISBN: 0-87714-914-3 eBook edition
ISBN: 0-87714-341-2 PB edition
All rights reserved by Denlinger's Publishers, including the right to reproduce this electronic book, or portions thereof, in any form, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
THE AUTHOR
The author has been a freelance writer for 35 years. In that period of time his stories have appeared in many major sporting journals such as Outdoor Life, Field & Stream, Sports Afield, Safari, Saltwater Fishermen, Hunting Classics, Harris Publications, western historical societies, American Hunter, Western Treasures and Daily Republic Newspapers to mention but a few. He has had over 250 features published.
He is the author of four previous books for Denlinger's titled, Search for the Golden Bucket Mine, The Americanos, The Plainsman, Outdoor Reflections of the 1940's, a biolgraphical work about outdoor pursuits growing up in Californiala Coast Range Mountains during the war years. And now his newest work, "The Lost Diablo Curse," graces Denlinger's western list. He has also authored two hard cover westerns titled Vengeance at Quiet Creek, and Fontana, printed by Avalon Books, a New York publishing house.
THE BOOK
Can a middle aged stagecoach driver and a young pretty school teacher gain the confidence and affection of an Indian boy fleeing for his life from his own people in order to piece together the puzzle to find a fabled Spanish gold mine?
Indian gold and the ancient curse that protects it is challenged by an unlikely band of three. Jim Spence, lead whip man for a far flung stage line befriends a wild Indian boy fleeing from his Kiowa tribesmen bent on taking his life and with him a golden secret only he alone can fulfill. The young, lovely school teacher, Cialia Grayson, becomes involved with them both in ways she could never imagine when Spence brings the boy, who's Indian name is Small Eagle, to her school to try and teach him English. Mocked by the white children she finally decides to teach him on her own, but in the process both adults are drawn into the maddening search for the fabled lost mine that Spanish invaders used Indian labor to find and work nearly a century earlier. And, slowly Cialia and Spence also begin to fall in love.
Chapter 1—Survival
From high above the saguaro spiked desert landscape a coasting, blackwinged vulture watched the tiny, prostrate figure then tipped lower, sliding over the body in ever tightening circles until its shadowy flash jerked the man to life ever so slightly.
Conscious again he tried to force his eyes open, but the glaring, furnace throated sun only allowed a blurred blink as he squinted into dancing waves of heat. How many days had he been crawling? He wasn't sure anymore, and it really didn't make much difference as Delbert Heck dropped back into the scorching dirt and lay still.
Every day he'd prayed it would be his last, but at sundown he somehow still found himself alive trying to drag himself farther away, but he forgot from what? He did remember he'd had a mule, but it died days ago or was it weeks? If he could just find water, any water, even a single drop of water, he might have a chance. But the endless, sweltering Black Rock desert stretching away from the desolate range of the same name was devoid of everything except lizards and rattlesnakes. And soon it would be rid of him too.
The empty canteen still drug along behind him on its leather strap clanking hollow and empty over rocks with a mocking ring that never stopped. Then suddenly the swooping shadow was back again but this time he felt the bite of razor sharp claws digging into his back as he frantically twisted over kicking and screaming to stare into the naked face of the giant bird as it savagely struck out again and again, until finally flapping off into the sky leaving him trembling in horror, crawling away as fast as he could.
Later that afternoon he found a small rock ledge and hid under it out of the sun, then passed out. When he awoke hours later the dying red disk of sun was burning its way into stony plateaus to the west, and slowly he drug himself back out trying to crawl he knew not where.
After dark a wandering coyote stopped to sniff the desert air, the scent of death wafting in on a tiny zephyr. Then it began a fast trot through the mesquite following its nose. It hadn't gone far when it ran into a small opening skidding to a sudden stop. The man thing was on the ground right in front of him but still moving as he backed up snarling in confusion.
Heck lifted his head trying to focus on the growling image then scratched up a handful of pebbles weakly tossing them at the little wolf sending him back even further, but it wasn't going to give up this meal that easy. He'd follow the evil smelling thing until it moved no more then collect its reward as both shadowy figures moved off into the night under the glow of a sky dusted in dazzling nighttime silver.
Sometime near the first gray streak of dawn, the man stopped trying to listen. Yes, now he got it. The hallucinating tinkle of water seemed to come from someplace ahead and very near, but he knew his mind was playing tricks on him again and continued to pull his way forward even though it would not go away. Then he realized he was at the lip of a shaly slope, and when he pulled himself over the edge he was suddenly caught up in a rock slide that sent him tobogganing down into the steep gully until he landed in the bottom with a sudden stop, sprawled on his back, his outstretched hand in something cool and wet.
For a moment he lay there blinking up into the diamond bright velvet above, then slowly pulled himself a few feet further until his parched and blistered face collapsed into a tiny pool of bug infested...water! He drank, choked, fought for air, and drank again until he couldn't breathe and had to stop. It was water, by God, and somehow, some way Lady Luck had finally smiled on him and saved his life...at least for the moment.
When he couldn't drink any more he rolled over on his back then slowly forced himself up into a sitting position trying to make out where he was. But he didn't see the little brush wolf above take one more long look then turn away trotting back into the night. Delbert Heck prospector, muleskinner, and lost in the vastness of the desert would not die this night.
All that next day he stayed by the bubbling seep of life filling his canteen trying to get some bit of strength back. Then at nightfall, he fought his way up to his feet and began a stumbling, painful hobble away. With water he had a chance, not much of a one, but at least a slim chance to hang on another few days. Even the throbbing arrow wound in his arm wouldn't stop him now. He'd walk clear to Double Hot if had to, even though he had no idea where he or it was.
Three days later Cale Greenwood rolled out of his blanket and stirred the mesquite fire back to life for breakfast coffee, when suddenly he picked up movement far out on the desert plain and dove for his rifle, yelling for his two partners. Nolan Tibbet and J.C. Sloan lifted their heads sleepily, then scrambled for weapons as all three stood in their long underwear and Greenwood pointed out the wobbling image coming closer.
"Pull on your boots and check those rifles. Then let's go see what that is," Cale cautioned, and moments later they started forward.
When they got close enough to see it actually was a man, or what was left of one, they stopped, staring in disbelief at the ragged, dirty skeleton stumbling to a halt just feet away.
"Mister, what in hell happened to you!" Tibbet stepped closer just as Heck collapsed in a heap.
"Pick'em up and let's get him back to camp." Greenwood grabbed an arm, while J.C. did the same.
At the bedrolls they carefully laid him on his back surveying the gaunt form, blistered face, and bloody shoulder.
"Let's try and give him a drink. Maybe he can talk." Cale reached for a canteen unscrewing the top and carefully pouring a trickle into his mouth, which only resulted in a wracking gagging spell.
"Slow down. Just try and sip it." Greenwood tried again, staring into Heck's tortured eyes. "What happened, did Indians get you? Can you talk?"
Delbert's mouth moved but nothing came out except a thin stream of tears down his dirt caked face.
"That's all right. We'll talk later when you can. Let us have a look at that shoulder, then you can rest."
After Heck slipped back into unconsciousness, the three men stood looking at each other puzzled at their sudden find.
"Maybe he's got something on him, some papers that might tell us who he is or what he's doing out here? Let's take a look." J.C. kneeled down, digging in his pockets, bringing up a handful of marble size stones.
"What's this?" he lifted them closer.
"God almighty, is that what I think it is?" Tibbet picked one out, turning it slowly in his hand, thick veins of gold wound through the stone as they studied the rest of them.
"Where do you suppose he got these?" Greenwood searched his friend's faces. "This color is worth a fortune if there's more of it, and I guess our idea to head into the Black Rock Range for some prospecting was a pretty good one after all!"
"Yeah, but look what happened to this poor devil. Somewhere in there the Kiowa got a piece of him and he might not make it out of here yet. He's half dead right now, and if he hadn't stumbled on us he'd been gone for sure." J.C. shook his head.
"I heard years ago there was gold in the Black Rocks, but no one knew where it was or much else about it, except every once in a while some Indian would show up at a trading post with a pouch of nuggets to trade for a rifle or cartridges. A few tried to follow them back into the mountains, but most of'em never made it back out. The red skins probably got'em, except here's one they didn't finish off." Greenwood pointed down.
"No, but the desert just about has. He can't make it much longer in the shape he's in." Sloan shifted his gaze back up to the dark desert mountains looming along the horizon. "What are we going to do with him? Leave him here and head in, or turn around and go all the way back to Desert Wells?"
"First let's see if we can get anything out of him when he's conscious," Tibbet suggested. "Then we'll decide."
"I don't think there's much left to decide if we don't try to get him to a doctor." Cale countered. "He's not going to last in the shape he's in. See that wound? It's putrefying. We either get him in there or he's dead and we'll learn nothing."
Later when Delbert woke, the three gathered around him after doing what they could with the deep wound.
"How long have you been walking, and where did you come from?" Cale asked, but all Heck said was that he wasn't sure. It could have been a week, or maybe even two.
"The red skins got you, huh?" J.C. questioned. "How did you get away from them?"
"Hid...in the rocks...until night."
"Well, where did you get this gold we found on you?" the three glanced at each other wondering if they'd get an answer.
"In...the mountains...but I don't remember where. I was... just trying to stay...alive. Out of my mind...most of the time."
"Even if you don't remember where, you must remember how you got it. Did you sink a shaft, or pick it up off the surface?" J.C. tried for more, but all he got was a slow shake of the head.
"What's that...smell?" Delbert twisted his head.
"That's your arm. It's pretty bad. We did what we could but you need a doctor. Desert Wells is another four days from here and I guess we're gonn'a have to try and get you there no matter what." Tibbet stood, slapping his pants leg with his hat.
Here we come all the way out here, and now we've got to turn around and head right back to town. What is there, some kind of curse on this country, or is it just our dumb luck?" he turned away, cussing under his breath.
"There's no sense getting all bent out of shape about it. The sooner we start back, the sooner we can turn around and try again. I say let's get started right now," Greenwood suggested, and after loading Delbert doubled up with him, they headed out.
When they finally reached the little desert town nestled against a tiny creek lined in tall cottonwoods, Heck was delirious and barely able to keep his head up even with Cale holding him. At doctor Todd's office his wife, Jenna, let them in but quickly told them Todd wasn't there.
"My husband left for the Canteras ranch two days ago in our buggy. Mrs. Canteras is about to have a baby, and she's had terrible labor with all her children. I don't know when he'll be back, but I'll do what little I can for your friend, here."
"How far away is this Canteras place?" Greenwood asked.
"It's near twenty miles. They live all the way over on the other side of the mountains, and from the looks of this man I wouldn't try to take him there. He needs to be put down right now and quickly."
For the next three days Heck grew increasingly worse, until Todd finally made it back and quickly examined him.
"Are you awake, Mr. Heck? Do you understand what I'm saying? I'm doctor Todd."
Delbert nodded, eyes still closed, half conscious.
"I'm sorry to tell you, you only have one chance, and that's if I take this arm of yours off. Gangrene has set in and I can't treat that. I have no other choice but to be blunt, and we're both running out of time if I don't act. Do you want me to go ahead or not? You might not survive the operation, I have to tell you that quite honestly, but the alternative is surely death."
His eyes flickered open in horror as he tried to focus on the doctor's face then closed again nodding weakly.
"All right then. I'm going to begin right now after I put you out. If you know a prayer now would be a good time to recite it, sir. I'll need all the help I can get and so will you. Now just inhale this deeply...deeply...that's it..."
Delbert's three new "friends" had made camp just outside town along Cottonwood Creek, and when he was able to have visitors four days later they were first to show up.
"Well, it looks like you made it, and that's saying something. When we found you we all figured you were done for."
Greenwood tried a weak smile, but did not get an answer.
"Yeah, you've beat some kind of odds crawling out of the desert like you did. You even outfoxed them Indians. I'll bet there ain't a white man in the territory that's done that." Tibbet glanced at his pals then leaned closer.
"We were all glad we could help you out, you know that don't you? And now that you've had some rest and the doc here has got you back on an even keel, you've had time to think it all over, haven't you? I mean, well, the way things are now you could use maybe some help, some partners, because you probably ain't going to be doing much digging with just one...arm. You know what I mean?"
Heck locked eyes with Tibbet a moment longer before answering.
"I...still don't know where I was. I appreciate all you three have done for me...but I just don't remember."
"Maybe after you can get out of bed and get some sunshine it will come back to you. We'll come back and visit in another few days when you can move around, get outside and such. Doc here told us you're doing real well. It will probably all come back to you in a while longer." Sloan nodded, placing a hand on Heck's shoulder.
"Gentlemen, that's enough visiting for now. Mr. Heck still needs a lot of rest and recuperation," Todd motioned them outside into the hall.
"What's all this talk about gold?" he asked after pulling the door shut. "There hasn't been a real strike around here in years."
"Oh, it's not much, really. Heck just had a few little flakes of dust on him when we found him, and we were heading into that country anyway, so we thought we might take a look around and dry pan a little, that's all." Tibbet shrugged, hoping he sounded believable.
"The only reason I ask, is that the rumor floated around town for years that when the Spanish explorers came up into this country from Mexico in the fifteen hundreds looking for the seven cities of gold, they found the Indians in possession of it in the Black Rock Range. Then, the story goes, they forced them into laboring for it in some of hard rock mine. At one time a number of prospectors used Cottonwood Creek as their starting point, looking for that Mother Lode, but no one found it. A number of them were never heard from again, and everyone figured either the Indians or the desert finished them off."
The three looked at each other then back to Todd trying to hide their interest at his story, until Tibbet finally broke in.
"Well, like you say, it's probably all just a lot of talk. You know how prospectors are. They're always gabbing about some rich vein just over the next ridge or canyon. If they didn't have a dream to chase they'd all have to find a real job and go to work," he forced a short laugh. "We just wanted to say a quick hello to Delbert and be sure he's doing all right."
"He'll need a long recuperation after what he's been through. He's lucky he even made it through the surgery, but he's a tough little man even if he is just skin and bones. You can come back in a week or so, but for now I want him to stay quiet and rest."
When the trio returned to camp, all the talk was about the story of the Spanish gold and the doctors questions about what Heck had found.
"Now that he knows he'll probably be spreading it all over town and start another rush into the mountains." Tibbet sat, biting off a plug of tobacco in disgust.
"Maybe not," Greenwood countered. "These people around here must have been hearing stories about gold for years, and nobody has come out with anything."
"Yeah, but Heck's the only one who actually made it out with color right in his pockets, and that could make a real difference." Sloan wagged a finger at him.
"Well, just remember that he doesn't have it, we do," Toby shot back. "So all he can say is that he found something, but he doesn't have anything to show for it. I say we pick up a few more supplies and stop wasting our time trying to question him. He either really doesn't remember, or isn't going to say if he does. We should head back where we found him and go in from their on our own, and the sooner the better before anyone else or even he tries it!"
Three weeks later Delbert Heck slowly stepped outside of Todd's office with the help of a cane, and an empty sleeve pinned to the side of his shirt. His three "friends" were long gone, and with them the secret of his electrifying find, but he still had the one thing no one else did, and that was the vague memory of where he'd found the fabulous golden stones. Now if he could just find that spot again.
But word had spread of the crippled man's unbelievable escape from the distant Black Rocks and his epic crawl for help, and along with it the whispered magic of "gold." He was dead broke with not a nickel to his name and no place to go, but he held the promise of riches untold, and that made him a valuable commodity that moved others to act.
Delbert never went to public school and could just barely read or write, but he had the weedy resolve of a man who'd stumbled upon a once in a lifetime treasure and knew he'd never get that chance ever again. He wasn't about to let it slip away even though he'd lost an arm and nearly his life in the process. That's when Big Ben Stockdale, the leader of two other local ranchers came to him and made an offer he couldn't refuse.
"Me and my friends will stake you to another trip into the Black Rocks and furnish everything we'll need. All you have to do is try to remember where you found the gold. Do you think you can do it? Of course, all three of us will go in there with you. We want to be in on the find, not sitting back here in Double Hot wondering how you're doing."
Heck sized up the big man for only a moment then stuck out his one hand, nodding slowly. Now he'd have the grubstake he'd hoped for, and three more guns to back it up too.
"Good, good then. When do you want to leave?" Ben asked.
"Just as soon as I can make up a list of grub and supplies. We'll need mules to carry everything on. They can go farther on less than horses. And there's one other thing."
"What's that?"
"There are probably already other men in there by now. Bring rifles and plenty of cartridges, because we're likely going to need them one way or the other."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean you just might have to use them either against Indians or maybe other white men."
Stockdale stared hard at the little man a moment longer but did not comment.
Three days later the small band of men rode out of town turning towards the distant Black Rock Range. Then for another week they plodded steadily closer until finally reaching the country where Heck had been found by Greenwood and the others. Each day as they slowly rode deeper into the towering, volcanic mountains, Delbert tried to recognize and remember various landmarks with his new partners, Stockdale, Curt McCoy, and Richard Sampson constantly pointing out prominent formations they though might jog his memory, but all to no avail.
By the second week patience and tempers began to grow short and especially each night around the campfire.
"If none of this looks familiar to you maybe we're heading in the wrong country? That's possible, isn't it?" Stockdale questioned, putting down his plate of beans and glancing at his pals.
"You have to understand something. Most of the time I was about half out of my mind. Now I'm trying to get back into country I might recognize before those Kiowas jumped me. I have to do that by...'feeling' as much as anything else. That's all I've got to go by, and you'll have to go along with it. Before I first started running from the Indians I found the gold in a steep canyon surrounded by high rock walls. There was a tiny spring in the bottom of it, and at the back end was a sort of cave in like it might have been a mine shaft at one time but only a small opening now. At the top of the canyon I could see two pointed peaks just like the horns of a devil about five miles away. If I can find those twin peaks again then maybe I can find my way back to that canyon, but all this country is cut up with dead end box canyons. It's gonn'a take time and a lot of luck. Remember, I didn't come to you, you came to me, and I never said any of it was going to be easy. People have been looking for this lost Spanish mine for about two hundred years. We ain't gonn'a find it in just two weeks."
"All right, Heck. We'll give it another week, but by then we'll be low on grub and water too. If you can't come up with something by then, then me and Curt and Richard are going to pull out while we can still make it back," Stockdale ordered. "Now, let's turn in and get some rest before that damn sun comes burning its way back up again."
Many miles east of the four, Greenwood, Sloan, and Tibbet were having troubles of their own. Even though they were first into the desolate, desert mountains, they had to search on pure guess once they passed the sight where they'd found Heck. In their haste to do so they'd covered as much ground as possible wandering farther and farther north. By the beginning of the third week they were dejected by their lack of success and had penetrated to their deepest point into the Black Rocks but not unnoticed by hidden, savage eyes.
Then one night by the dying light of their campfire, a dozen dark forms rose silently from the shadows and crept forward on moccasined feet to stop over the snoring men. Then the Kiowas raised their stone headed axes swiftly swinging them down again and again until the blanket wrapped bodies stopped kicking, and the Diablo Curse claimed three more victims to its long list of lost men. Now were Delbert and Heck and his new partners next in line for murder?
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