Walk With Me In Hell

Chapter Seven

It was still relatively early, and there was no sense in waiting an entire day to get started. They agreed to meet at the north end of town as soon as possible. Helen returned to her hotel room to get her rifle and whatever else she thought she might need. She sat on the bed with the rifle in her lap, checking to make sure it was ready, and put the extra bullets in her pocket. It was a sturdy Henry rifle that her father had acquired during the War between the States – he joked sometimes that he had named Helen’s brother after it. It was lever-action, with a well-worn handle, and her family’s emblem, the same one as on the pendant around her neck, burned into the stock. The gun was familiar in her hands, as she had spent many afternoons learning to shoot it, under her father’s careful eye.

Downstairs at the hotel desk, she had the clerk fill her canteen with water, which she hung over her shoulder. She didn’t know how long they would spend in the mine, but she felt it would be wise to being water in case she got thirsty. She paid for her room for one more night, and then headed out, the rifle cradled in one arm and her oil lantern in the other. They would need light in the mine, after all. She thought she might be conspicuous carrying the gun through town, but no one seemed to pay her any special attention.

Teshenah was waiting for her when she arrived. In his arms was a rifle as well. It was a Winchester, but his was in worse condition, the stock gouged and scratched up, the barrel scuffed and dirty. It was a rifle that had seen heavy use over the years. And more interestingly, at least from Helen’s point of view, was the tomahawk hanging from Teshenah’s belt. It had a smooth wooden handle and a dark gray steel blade, with red and blue feathers tied around the head. It almost looked like it might be merely decorative, but Helen knew it wasn’t.

She nodded in greeting. “I meant to ask you before,” she said. “Why are you in Haventown? You’re not a mine worker, that’s for certain.”

Teshenah leaned against a horse post and considered the question. “I travel often,” he said. “I go from place to place. Sometimes white men hire me as a scout or a tracker. I did not come to this place for any particular reason.”

Helen eyed the tomahawk again. “What tribe do you belong to?”

“I am from the Chiricahua.”

“That’s Apache?”

He studied her for a moment, and Helen got the impression he was secretly amused. “Yes, my people are Apache.”

“The United States is at war with the Apache, aren’t they?”

“That’s what the white men tell me.”

“Why did you really agree to help me, Teshenah?”

He sighed and looked out at the desert wilderness in the distance. Eventually, he said, “This stone the white man digs for, the dark stone. It is an evil thing. Perhaps if the white man took all of this dark stone away, it would only hurt them and leave my people alone.” He turned to look at Helen. “But this is not so. The dark stone corrupts my people just as it does yours. And the demons from underground kill my people as easily as they kill yours. We must fight them.”

“Is that what you call them? Demons?”

“That is what they are,” Teshenah said with deadly seriousness. “When you see them, you will know. I came to this town, and other towns, looking for someone who would join me and fight them. But not for money, not for dark stone.”

“I’m just looking for my brother,” Helen insisted.

Teshenah looked down at the rifle in her hands. “Yes, and that is a noble cause.”

Helen didn’t know exactly how to respond to that, so she said nothing. She turned and saw Burt and Louisa coming their way.

The cowboy smiled that same vaguely sarcastic smile that always seemed to fit his rugged features. “I take it you didn’t change your mind about this? Well, there’s no time like the present.”

Burt would have preferred to take horses, but none of them could afford even one of the sickly, malnourished horses that the townsfolk used to pull carts and wagons. The four of them had to walk to the mines, which was not a very long trip, but the longer it took to get there, the more anxious they would become. Knife Canyon was only about two miles from town. Walking at a steady pace would get them there in less than an hour.

Teshenah knew the way, so he took the lead with Helen walking next to him. Each of them carried a rifle, and Burt couldn’t help but notice the hatchet dangling from Teshenah’s belt. He wondered how much use the weapon had seen. Teshenah didn’t seem like much at first glance, but any Indian carrying a weapon like that was not someone to underestimate.

As for Burt, he was armed with a reliable Colt six-shot revolver, which had been gifted to him by his father when he turned eighteen. Burt also carried a lasso coiled up and tied to his belt. It didn’t seem likely that he would find a use for his lasso inside a mine, but you never knew when a strong length of rope might come in handy. The only other thing he carried with him was a flask of whiskey.

Beside him, Louisa had chosen to carry Helen’s lantern. She had not said much since agreeing to go on this expedition, and she didn’t seem like she was in the mood to be dissuaded, but Burt figured he had to try anyway.

“You know,” he said, as gently as possible, “you don’t have to do this. I mean, I’m not trying to tell you your business. You’ve been through a lot, but maybe you should think twice about jumping into something dangerous like this.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Louisa said. She looked more composed now, her eyes no longer red and puffy with tears. The decision to act – to do something instead of sit around in misery – had burned away her grief and given her a sense of purpose. Burt understood that better than Louisa probably did.

“Well, if we run into some real trouble,” Burt said, “just stay behind me and the others. We have guns, so we should be able to defend ourselves pretty well.”

“I have one too,” Louisa said, surprising him. Then she reached down underneath her skirt, and pulled out a tiny pistol before Burt could even look away in embarrassment. The gun was made by the Deringer company, and held only one bullet. A self-defense gun.

“Lots of the girls carry them,” she said, looking at it. “You know, in case a guy gets too rough with them.” She shrugged and tucked the gun back in the hidden holster she had down there, and this time Burt did politely look away.

“Even so, I would rather you stay behind us,” he said.

“I can’t stand behind you,” she said. “I’m the one with the lantern. I have to be in front so we can see where we’re going.”

Burt couldn’t think of anything to counter that. “I guess it’s pointless for me to try to argue with you, huh?”

“Yes,” Louisa said. But she smiled just a little bit. “Thank you for trying, though.”

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