They reached the ranch and met with Granger and Elias himself, to explain the whole ordeal. They told the pair all about the encounter with the Indians, and how Childers had been killed along with one of the horses, and, they had to leave Childers's body near the opening to this tunnel.

It was an understatement that Elias and Granger were both angry at the loss of Childers, even with the news that they could reach the Lost Lake Ranch via the tunnel, but it was Elias who spoke about the next step:

“You boys did good, but we need to get some of the boys out there to recover that body, not you two, you done enough.” He said, then added, “As for the Indians, soon as the weather clears we’ll go have a look see about them.”

“I’ll get some of the boys on that right now,” Granger stated and started for the door.

“You get six men, make sure they’re armed, take a pack mule for Childers and you tell ‘em to keep an eye peeled for the Indians!” Elias ordered, “Kill ‘em on sight!”

Well, no such luck. The ride out was uneventful, though the rain went from light to moderate. Childers was loaded onto the pack mule without incident, which was disappointing to all of them. Each of the men looked over the opening that had been found, all of them wanted to take a look inside, but they had orders, and so, reluctantly, they rode back.

There had been rumors of an abandoned mine high up, but nothing had ever been done about it, or that was the rumor. Whether Shade Thornton or Quentin Cantrell knew about its existence is debatable, and if they did, did they know how far beneath the mountain it went? All of that was conjecture. It was there, plain and simple.

Perhaps the rumor was known most likely to the hands who worked on the ranch, though they came and went except for the core group of riders such as Mike and Sam Wentworth, but had any of them ever searched for it? If it was abandoned, as it was rumored, then what interest would anyone have in it?

Well, that moderate rain, it became three days of heavy downpour, a spring gully washer, which was good for the grass, bad for getting out and doing anything, especially not going out to the tunnel.

When the sun came out that fourth morning an anxious bunch of cowhands emerged from the bunkhouse ready to get busy doing something besides sitting around, like working cattle.

Elias called Granger in to have a talk, first of course was what to do with Childers’ body residing in the ice house. It would be buried on the ranch, a makeshift cemetery where those with no known family were buried, which was most all of the Evergreen hands.

“Then, you take maybe fifteen of the boys out to see about these Indians or whatever they are, wipe them out!” Elias demanded. “Make sure you get them all. I have a feeling there may not be many, but we need to be sure.”

“I’ll do that, I’m thinking maybe there’s a trail off’a that mountain that they use, explains where some of those missing cows disappeared to,” Granger replied. “Injuns. They way Dutch an’ Isner talked them redskins dropped in on ‘em, not like they live in the cave, er tunnel, ‘er whatever it is. Dern sure ain’t no abandoned mine.

"No, no it isn’t. I wonder though, how long has that tunnel been there, and who really knows about it? Somebody must have gotten curious about it, and Dutch even said there was some sort of covering over the entrance.” Elias wondered aloud. “I mean, when you think about it, how did something like that stay hidden?”

“Dutch also said that the covering was so old it fell apart when he touched it, so maybe long before you owned this place. And maybe, long before the Thornton’s owned there’s.” Granger surmised, “But, surely gonna surprise ‘em when we attack outta that tunnel.”

Elias laughed. “They sure will, Arlen, they surely will!”

“First thing, let’s get Childers in the ground. Make a big deal about it before we go after the Indians.” Elias said.

“Sure, sure that would be good, and, we’d have the boys fired up for some revenge.” Granger agreed. “You know, what I still can’t get a handle on? Why Lost Lake didn’t take care of ‘em long, long ago.”

“No telling, that’s for sure.” Elias admitted.

“I get this all set up and together for the funeral.” Granger volunteered Maybe even say a few words over him. I’ll get back to you, get Cookie busy on grub for this and anything else that’s needed, we got plenty of linen to wrap him up in.”

“Good, see to it.” Was Elias’ final word, which was Granger’s cue to leave.
~0~

It was a humdinger of a funeral and impromptu wake for Derek Childers, but there were also a goodly number who were sober with revenge on their mind, and had their horse saddled and ready once the eating and drinking started. They ate quickly and were ready to ride.

Not to be denied, Dutch was with this band of men bent on wiping out what they believed were Indians, though not far from wrong. Before the wake even got its giddy-up going, Dutch led his men out, thundering across the range toward the place where the entrance to the tunnel lay waiting.

They rode up to the site of the tunnel, dismounted, tying their horses to several of the trees. Each of them slid their lever guns. The first order of business, locate a trail. There had to be one, or that was the general consensus, It was there alright, not easy to find, difficult to see, but it was there. So they began the trek up the side of the mountain along something that was a bit wider than a dear trail, but one that appeared to be well used, tracks were barefoot prints in both directions, muddied up by use in both ways. But certainly there with no attempts to cover them.

The men followed Dutch as he began up the dim trail, Everyone had the rifles at the ready as they worked their way up the side of the mountain. The trail wove its way with no definitive route, simply put, it seemed to lead nowhere. Off to one side, then back up, then off to the other side, once bordering a catch basin where they must get water.

They moved along slowly, the underbrush alongside the trail snatching at their chaps and trousers, for those without the leather leg coverings. It was not an easy trail to follow. Oh, it was there, just not an easy climb, continually taking them what seemed to be off course, then righting it again. They paused after nearly an hour and drank from their canteens as each man had thought to bring along.

They had been careless in their ascent, crushing some of the undergrowth along the way, but they were unconcerned about the trail behind them, it was what lay ahead of them, even off to the sides. Though one or two would glance back, it was not something that was done regularly.

They came to a spot where there had been tracks near some rocks, it was one of the openings to the tunnel below, and the trail straightened out from there. The men spoke in hushed tones as they considered the first one, it was the others along the way who really had their attention and imagination piqued, especially the one where it was obviously large enough for a man to fit through. That gave them pause as did the direction of the trail leading off to the right and up into a jumble of rocks Dutch raised his hand and crouched down, it was his thought that whatever they were looking for it was in those rocks. Why? Because that was the way the trail led. He did not speak but gave hand signals about moving forward, sending out men on either flank. It would be slower going as the Dutchman believed they were close. With three men on either side, he and three others would work their way up, though slowly now with six of the men working their way up in through underbrush.

Now, I ain’t real sure how to tell the rest of this tale except for hope it happened. It was going to be up and over for three of the men. For the other three, it would be up and in, but the idea was not to have the three parties converge but to be spread out some as they approached the rocks. Not a bad plan, not at all. But their movements were slowed by the underbrush.

Then came the fly in the ointment. Just as they closed within maybe eight or ten yards the first arrow came out of the brush and took one of the men to the left in the chest. Everyone stopped then and another feathered shaft took a man on the right in the neck. A barrage of rifle fire went back where the arrows had come from, and that produced a solitary scream, while Dutch now found himself down two men.

Crouched in the underbrush they peered forward at the rocks, where had they come from? Why hadn’t they seen movement before the redmen struck? Good questions, but unimportant ones for at that precise moment the men on the left were attacked by four of the Indians. They came with barely a sign of their approach using war clubs to kill the remaining two men, who were taken without firing a shot. Dutch shifted as he heard the commotion and took an arrow across the shoulder as he dropped.

He saw them. They were white from head to toe! There was some hair color, but mostly these men appeared as if they had been white washed.

Down three men and bleeding himself from the slice across his shoulder, he was able to get off a pair of shots that reduced the savage's number by two. Although he had no idea how many of these there were, they had been hit, but whether or not they had been killed was another question. Then things fell eerily silent. Dutch crawled over and retrieved the dead men’s rifles, but there was only one body still there, The white coated men, and both bodies of Dutch’s men were gone! How had that happened?

There was no sense trying to have the men move for the moment, He needed to think, he needed a plan they had been ambushed like schoolboys! No matter men were lost and their bodies missing, how was that accomplished? Not that he had been watching what with arrows flying in their direction. Yet still, how had big men been carted off under their very noses?

The minutes dragged on, the sun beating down as they lay on the mountainside in the underbrush, which offered little to no cover. At least these savages had no guns, but then there were the pistols of the two men that were missing, they had those, yet they had not fired at Dutch and his men. There was ammunition in the belts of both men's holsters that could be used.

So there were two of the white washed savages that had been either wounded or killed. And for all the led they had sent into the underbrush and rocks, it was conceivable that somebody had been hit by their shooting. The question was, how many savages were there and why had they broken off their defensive stand if that was what it was?

There were five of them with rifles, if they rushed the rocks maybe they could overpower those that were left, or, had they escaped? They could rush the rocks firing as they came, but at what? That was the problem. And what if they had simply escaped from whatever lay ahead in those rocks, or worse yet, a stronger force awaited Dutch and the others, simply biding their time until the white men were foolish enough to make their move and then kill them all?

Dutch made his way over to the others. From where they were they could see into the rocks, and there was no one there, It was like there had not been anyone there, but they all knew different. Men were dead, bodies missing, wounds received and the cause of those losses was inside those rocks, or more realistically just on the other side.

“Ta hell with it! Lets us have at ‘em!” One of the men stated angrily, and none too quiet.

“Yeah! I say the five of us rush ‘em, maybe we get lucky and kill ‘em all!” Another added in as it appeared that was the plan if you could call it that.

“Aw’right we fan out an' rush the rocks where we stop if we ain’t already engaged.” Dutch ordered, “Then we go in an’ empty these rifles in anything moving!” He looked at them, he wished he had Deckerd and Treach with him, but if they were all going to die doing this, he was just as glad they were back at the ranch.

“Let’s go!”

With Dutch taking the middle they moved as fast as they could to close the distance between themselves and the outcropping of boulders, which was far more than that as they got nearer to what appeared to be the entrance.

Just then a savage appeared from the left side and charged the group having perhaps the effect that they wanted, everyone tuned as the closest of the men raised his pistol and fired, the savage dropped as the others came under attack at the same time.

Dutch was clubbed and went down in a heap, as another was bludgeoned with a tomahawk, splitting his skull wide killing him, and allowing a savage to grip his legs and drag him off. The shooter, Les Parker, turned and received a lance in his chest, which was used to drag him off into the rocks.

The last of the men still standing, Devon Kastle, looked around, picked up a second pistol, spit blood from a split lip as he wavered a moment, then took a step forward before he was steady enough to push himself into a trot, then into a full sprint into the rocks which opened into the timbered mouth of what was a mine. Two savages rushed out to meet him head on he fired both pistols into them, while he took a knife in the chest as both savages dropped.

And a roar came from the cave.

Dutch pushed himself up, groggy from the blow, blood streaming down his face, Anger burning in his eyes as he stood, steadying himself as he drew on his strength to finish what had been started.

He could not be sure if there was anyone else left of the twelve who had started out on this hunt. It didn’t matter to Boas “Dutch” de Vries, not in the slightest. He quickly checked the loads in both pistols, replacing spent cartridges as necessary. Snapping the loading gate on the second pistol he took a deep breath, then another as he steadied himself for what was about to come.

He moved quickly then, to the edge of the opening, where he paused as if to gather himself. How many they were inside the abandoned mine, it would either be them or him, and at that moment it didn’t matter which, no matter the number Dutch was going to kill all that he could before he went down.

In a single move, he was inside where the firelight illuminated three of the savages and they were in the process of ripping Kastle in two. Dutch all but threw up as he fired both pistols at the two heathens holding and pulling on the legs, they never knew what hit them, but the last one, he knew. And he roared his rage at the Dutchman as he charged the man, who fired both pistols, the right-hand gun misfired, but the slug from the left-hand pistol blew a hole through the creature’s side as the huge hand grabbed Dutch and tossed him backward, but Dutch held onto both pistols as he bounced on the hard packed floor, his wind rushing out of him.

The big man, if that is what he was, staggered a bit and howled again in anger at this thing who had killed two more of his dwindling number. He wanted to crush him, rip him apart before he died, and then devour his innards. But his breath was coming in shallow gulps Yet he roared once again, head held back moth wide open as he rushed a dazed Dutch, flat on his back in the dust.

Suddenly he was seized and lifted above the creature with tusk-like bones protruding out of each cheek, eyes red with fury as he glared down at the helpless thing in his grasp. He shook him to awaken the thing fully before he finished him. Dutch’s eyes flashed open and the Colts came up under the giant’s jaw and with every ounce of strength Dutch had he pulled back the hammers and squeezed both triggers. The roar of the shots was all but deafening as the top of the cannibal's head blew off, blood and brains went everywhere as he fell, releasing Dutch who fell to the floor away from the monster.

Dutch lay there, a death grip on the two guns as he gathered what strength he had and rolled to one side in an effort to rise. His head hung, his ribs ached, and his strength was sapped as he struggled to stand. It was then he saw the pregnant female lying several feet from him. He shook his head gritted his teeth and placed two shots into her. Were there other female creatures, if so where? Or was she only the one for breading, or perhaps the only female born to this unholy tribe? It didn’t matter, without a male they would soon die out, or perhaps he and some of the others could come back and hunt them as their males had hunted men and possibly women as well.

Dutch stumbled out into the daylight. It was time to get to the horses and ride back to the ranch.