Novel 1981 - Comstock Lode (v5.0) Read Online Free PDF Page B

and then no sound. The movement of the wagon startled him, and he awakened, and for a time he lay still. Had his father forgotten him? Why was he not awakened? He crawled back to the end of the wagon and got down over the tailgate.
    His father was plodding along near the oxen, and as Val sighted him, he saw him stagger. For a moment, trembling with fear, he was afraid his father would fall, but he recovered, and plodded on.
    Catching up to him, Val said, “Pa? Why don’t you get in the wagon? Why don’t you rest?”
    “Don’t be a fool, boy. They’re having all they can do to pull the wagon now, let alone with me in it.”
    It was after midnight when they stopped again. The night was very clear and the stars seemed close. There was nothing but the stench of dead animals and dust, ever and always, the dust.
    His father sank to the ground and rested his head in his hands, and Val slowly took what remained of the hay to each of the animals, and once more filled his father’s hat with water and gave each animal just that much.
    Ward stopped by. “You all right, son?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Boy, I’m gonna ride back a ways, see if I can see anything of the Thompsons. If they got back to the road they’ll need help.”
    Tom Trevallion looked up. “And if they didn’t?”
    “Their funeral. I can’t go killin’ a good horse an’ maybe myself to find ’em. They were warned, but he wouldn’t listen.”
    He turned his horse, then stopped. “Tom? If I shouldn’t make it back, you take charge. You take them on to California.”
    “Me?”
    “You. You’re the steadiest man on the train, and folks listen to you. You just use your own good sense and take them on in.” He chuckled without humor. “But don’t count me out. I aim to come back.”
    He walked his horse off into the night. Much later, a long way off, they heard him calling. They heard no answer.
    It was daybreak before he returned, walking and leading his horse. “Get ’em moving, Tom,” he said, his voice husky with weariness, “get ’em moving or we’ll lose some more.”
    “You didn’t find them?”
    “No, only their tracks, and them almost wiped out by drifting dust.” He accepted the coffee Val handed him. “You see the mirage is always ahead of you. You never catch up. Toward the end…as far as I went, their wagon wheels were cutting deep, oxen were making hard work of it. They’ll mire down in the playa, an’—”
    “Playa?”
    “Dry lake. Only it ain’t really dry. The crust breaks through, and it’s muck, bad as quicksand. Once you get in there, it would take two or three fresh teams to haul a wagon out. They ain’t going to get out no way.”
    “What can they do?”
    “Mount their oxen an’ try to walk out. Can’t carry much water, and he didn’t have much hay. If he’s smart, he’ll start back. Trouble is, he ain’t smart, or he’d have listened and not gone off like that.”
    “Maybe if we got a bunch together—”
    “Nothing doing. I’ll not stand for it. He took this on hisself, and I’m not going to lose good men trying to save a damn’ fool. It’s tough on his family, but the men who’d go after him have families, too.”
    Wearily, Ward got to his feet, staggering a little. “It’s up to them now. If they get back to the trail, they may catch a ride with somebody. Trouble is, Thompson had gear in that wagon he set store by. I don’t think he’ll leave it. He’ll keep fighting to get it out until there’s no more time.
    “I give him two days if he tried to get out, and in two days he can make it afoot. If he stays there struggling to get that wagon out, he won’t last that long.”
    Tom Trevallion walked along the line of wagons stirring people to move. With a jolt and a rumble they started again.
    Wagon after wagon started, and at last Hiram Ward came up, leading his horse. The wind began to blow, irritating, fitful gusts that filled the eyes and ears with gray-white alkali dust that made the eyes