Shadow on the Land by Wayne D. Overholser

Author:Wayne D. Overholser
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781628738469
Publisher: Skyhorse Publishing
Published: 2013-12-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

They came down the road like stars wheeling across the sky. Brakes locked, lanterns swinging, they came with dust boiling behind them and rocks rolling down the face of the cliff and bouncing into dizzy space and falling like mammoth hailstones into the Harriman camp. They came with strong arms holding to lines, a stream of oaths pouring upon the horses, comforting and guiding them as only teamsters’ oaths can, down the switchbacks along a twenty percent grade, around twists in the narrow road, with open space hanging below. And above all of it was the shadowing knowledge that they were traveling over live powder that might at any moment send them pin-wheeling into eternity.

Below the road the Harriman camp stirred into action. Lights sprang to life. Men called and hurried from tents to stare upward. One shouted: “There’s a million of them!”

“There’s only a handful!” the engineer yelled. “They won’t do anything except start digging so they can tie us up in the courts.”

An American pushed his way through the crowd of Italian laborers. “Want us to set ’em off, boss?” he asked.

“No. There aren’t enough to hurt us. Marstoni, get your men dressed and start ’em to shoveling. If they take us into court, we’ll show them we meant to dig a tunnel.”

But the Hill men did not have their minds on tunnel digging that night. They rolled onto the flat beside the river, the stooped man stepping down and with a lantern signaling the wagons into an arc between the Deschutes and the cañon wall.

Helping with the tents, Lee heard the swash of the water and the clatter of camp-making, saw the pinpoints of lantern light by which the Harriman men worked with picks and shovels. A sudden slackness had entered into him as if he had stepped out of a cross-whipping gale into a pool of quiet. He felt admiration for this crew that, having come through the shadow of death, now went about its work with the nonchalance of men going through the routine of an average day.

* * * * *

In the morning six men were detailed to start digging in the tongue of land about seventy-five feet from the Harriman crew. Lee strolled through the camp and on to where the Harriman men were working at the north portal of the tunnel. One of the Porter teamsters was ahead of him, a Winchester cradled over his arm. Three Italians straightened and, seeing the rifleman, dropped their shovels and ran toward the camp.

“Come back here!” a man yelled.

“We wanna da mon!” one of the Italians shouted. “Don’t want no lead in da belly.”

The man who had yelled wheeled toward the rifleman. “What in hell’s your idea of packing that Winchester around here?”

The teamster grinned insolently. “You know how it is when a camp’s being set up. Things get lost plumb easy. I wasn’t figgering on giving your men any lead in the belly.”

“You scared ’em enough to think so.” The man’s stubbly face grew ugly.

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