Novel 1987 - The Haunted Mesa (v5.0) Read Free

ol’ burro learned me. With green grass an’ water right down the slope, that ol’ burro wouldn’t take a step! I pushed him one time, tol’ him not to be such a damn fool, but he jus’ laid back his ears an’ wouldn’t move!”
    He reached into an inside pocket and brought out a piece of canvas, opening it on the table. “There she be. This here is Navajo Mountain. Nobody’s goin’ to miss that. Biggest thing around, an settin’ right in the middle of some of the roughest country you ever did see. Canyons so deep you have to look twice to see the bottom. You look as far as you can see, then you start from there an’ look again.
    â€œThat squiggly line? That’s the San Juan River. Empties into the Colorado. Most of the time she flows in the bottom of a canyon. There’s a trail leads from Navajo goin’ east. Mighty rough.”
    â€œThat’s the way we’re headed.”
    â€œKeep goin’, son. Just don’t stop. You keep a-goin’.”
    Chapter 2
----
    T HE OLD COWBOY put his finger on a mesa, carefully drawn on the canvas map. “That’s the place to fight shy of. You’re gettin’ into cliff-dweller country but you won’t find any up there. Them old Injuns was
smart
! They wanted no part of that place!
    â€œBut it ain’t just that one spot. There’s forty or fifty square miles of country it’s best to leave alone. Not to say I was never there. I got in there a time or two. There was an old Injun, a fine old man. Knowed him for years before he said anything to me about that there place.
    â€œHe said there was a ‘way,’ whatever that meant, but all those who knew how to use it were gone. It was a clan secret an’ the clan died out. Or was killed off by somebody who wanted the ‘way’ kept secret.”
    He pushed the canvas toward Mike Raglan. “Stick this inside your shirt an’ never let anybody know you got it. There’s those would kill to get their hands on it, and it would serve them right. That’s why I never told nobody until now.
    â€œI’m an old man, boy. I seen the sun set over that red rock country many’s the time. I seen men go into that country who never came back. I’ve knowed others who come back-stark ravin’ mad, memory gone an’ their wits along with it.
    â€œThere’s another world over there somewheres. At least there’s a way to get to it. Like them Spanish men in their iron suits. They
seen
the Seven Cities of Cibola. They
really
seen ’em! They weren’t lookin’ at any pueblos with the sun on ’em. They just happened to see through the veil. Somehow it was open then and they seen right through and never got over what they seen!
    â€œThey are there, boy! I seen ’em, too! But there’s evil over there, evil like you an’ me can’t even imagine. It was that ancient evil that drove the cliff dwellers into this world, comin’ through, as they said it, a hole in the ground.
    â€œIn their kivas, their ceremonial centers, there’s what they call a
sipapu
. It’s a hole in the floor that symbolizes how they escaped from the evil. But that evil is still over there, son, an’ don’t you forget it!”
    That had been a long time ago, and Mike Raglan had told the story to no one, not even to Erik Hokart. Yet he had warned Erik about the country. He had advised him to forget it, to choose any other place, but Hokart would not listen.
    Later, on that same early trip, he had mentioned the mesa to Jack. “No Man’s Mesa,” the old miner said. “We camp near there tomorrow night, if we’re lucky.” He shook his head. “There’s not much in the way of roads—some trails and wagon routes the Navajos use. I been through there a-horseback but never with a car. You may have to walk ahead an’ scout a route, roll rocks out of the way and such.