Stranded in Steamboat
The road to Steamboat led by Careless Mesa, then through a series of twists and turns down to comparatively level country again. According to the map, the ghost town was in a valley next to a dry lake bed.
Rick glanced at his watch. "It's going to be late when we get there."
"Maybe that's good," Scotty returned. "If anyone is in the town we'll see lights. This country is so wide open it would be hard to sneak up on the town in daylight."
"It would, if there was anything to sneak up for. Haven't you got the feeling this is a wild-goose chase?"
Scotty dodged a deep hole in the road. "It could be. But we can't just sit around waiting for the Earthman to hand us a calling card. Besides, Mac and Pancho were gone long enough to reach Steamboat and return to base this morning." That was what the vehicle-control board had shown.
"They might have been just waiting at Careless Mesa," Rick pointed out. "We have no evidence they went to Steamboat. Besides, if anything was stolen during the shoot this morning, they couldn't have been in on it."
"That's true. But we can't lose by looking the town over. Besides, I've never seen a real ghost town."
Rick watched the desert go by, his mind busy with the problems. As Scotty had said, if Mac and Pancho weren't in on the thefts, someone was. That someone had to get the stolen goods off the base and to a location from which it could be carried to civilization. He toyed with the idea that the stolen transistors might simply have been destroyed or hidden by the Earthman in order to hold up work at the base. That didn't seem likely.
The facts of time and distance certainly eliminated Mac and Pancho. During the shoots they were miles away. They had little or no opportunity to get close to the rockets. It was only reasonable to cross them—and all other radar-tracking teams—off the suspect list. Yet, Rick couldn't forget his initial feeling about the pair.
Scotty pointed. "Isn't that a town?"
The jeep had topped a gentle rise. Below lay a small, dry lake bed. At one edge of the dry lake, nestled in low foothills, were gray, weathered buildings. It was almost certainly Steamboat.
Scotty stopped the jeep and they surveyed the countryside with care. There was no sign of movement, no sign of a dust cloud from any other vehicle.
The sun was low in the west. In a short time it would be out of sight beyond the mountains, then darkness would close in. Rick reached into the jeep's glove compartment and found the flashlight he had stowed there. He checked it, then asked, "What are we waiting for?"
"Ideas," Scotty replied. "What say we roll right on through the town without stopping, then turn and come back through that wash at the base of the hills?"
Rick looked to where the dark-haired boy pointed. He saw the shadow of a gully that followed the foothills closely.
"Think it's necessary?" he asked.
Scotty shrugged. "Probably not. But it's better to be careful than sorry later."
"Okay with me. Let's go."
Scotty put the jeep in gear and they rolled swiftly down to the level of the dry lake bed and toward Steamboat. A few minutes later they entered the town.
Rick inspected the buildings with care. It looked like the setting for a Western motion picture, except for the lack of people and horses, and the lack of paint. He identified a pair of stores, a two-story building that could only have been a hotel, a livery stable, and several buildings without identification of any kind. There was only one street, and they were on it. Nowhere was there a sign of life. Then they were through the town, and the road climbed gently toward the foothills.
Scotty held the jeep at a steady speed for over a mile. As the road gradually curved around a rock outcropping, he said, "Look behind and tell me when the town is out of sight."
Rick turned in his seat in time to see Steamboat vanish behind the outcropping. "Now."
Scotty brought the jeep to a halt. "The road should fork pretty soon, shouldn't it?"
"That's right. Left fork to Pahrump Valley, right fork to Death Valley."
"Let's hit the ditch." Scotty reached down and put the jeep into four-wheel drive, then turned left off the road.
The bottom of the dry wash was alternately sandy and studded with boulders. Scotty picked his way with care, but it was a rough ride. Once or twice he stopped while Rick climbed the slope of the wash for a survey of the situation. Finally they pulled to a halt and both boys reconnoitered ahead, to find a good way out of the wash and onto the road. Satisfied that getting from the wash onto level ground would pose no problems, they turned off the jeep engine and settled down to wait.
Again, Rick felt the futility of what they were doing. They might wait for weeks without ever seeing another human being.
"There's going to be a moon," Scotty remarked.
Rick looked up at the slim crescent. "Yes, but not much of a moon. I'd rather depend on a flashlight."
Scotty stirred restlessly. "Maybe we should have explored the town."
"Maybe. It's too late now, except to explore by flashlight. We can always come back during daylight."
They fell silent while darkness settled in. Rick began to feel drowsy now that the excitement was at an end. He let his head droop. Presently he slept.
Suddenly he realized Scotty was shaking him. "I'm awake," he whispered. "What's up? What time is it?"
"Nearly nine. I was going to let you sleep for a while before starting back." Scotty's voice was low. "A car came along the road. Not from the base. The other way. It was traveling without lights. It stopped in town."
"Let's go," Rick whispered. He got out of the jeep, Scotty on his heels. They moved carefully up the slope of the wash and emerged on the open desert behind the town.
Scotty took his arm. "Follow me." The dark-haired boy moved into the lead.
They moved in a bent-over position, making their way from bush to bush, careful to move silently. Rick's pulse began to hammer. Why should anyone come to the ghost town, especially in a darkened vehicle? For the first time he felt hope. They might find out something of importance after all!
Scotty led the way, taking advantage of every bit of cover, and in a short time they emerged from the desert behind the row of ghostly, abandoned buildings. Rick recognized the hotel, the only two-story structure in the town. It was directly in front of them.
"Wait here a minute," Scotty whispered. He moved quickly and silently into the shadow of the livery stable. Scotty was skillful at this kind of work, and Rick knew it was best to let him reconnoiter alone.
Presently Scotty materialized from the shadows and moved to Rick's side. He whispered, "They came in a sedan. I couldn't see any lights, but I heard voices. They're in the hotel."
"Let's get closer," Rick replied softly.
Scotty plucked at his sleeve and Rick followed, moving swiftly into the shadow of the livery stable. Scotty moved slowly along the wall, then crossed the narrow alley between the stable and hotel with one long step, hesitating at the hotel corner. Rick followed silently. There was a window. Scotty crouched, so he would be below the window, and scuttled past it. Rick was right behind him.
The rear door of the hotel was next. Scotty's gesture told Rick they would stop there and try to listen. Scotty moved a few steps and stopped once more. He was in position. Rick crowded close behind him, then moved out from the wall a little so that he, too, could hear directly through the door.
From almost under his foot came a strident, warning buzz, and an icy ripple moved down his back. A snake! And he couldn't even see it! He froze where he was, muscles tense for the shock of needle-sharp fangs. He waited an eternity, not even daring to breathe. There were voices from within the hotel, but he didn't hear what they were saying. At that moment he couldn't possibly have cared less.
Then, his probing eyes saw the faint outline of the creature, half coiled, flattened head weaving. It was barely beyond striking distance. He watched it, not daring to look away, not daring to move.
Had Scotty heard the snake? But of course he must have. Rick reached with infinite caution and tugged at his pal's sleeve. Scotty would have to move first. Then Rick could move slowly to a position tight against the wall, where Scotty was now. Only by moving into the wall could he get away from the snake.
But in that moment the rattler apparently decided it had waited long enough. The evil head moved slowly toward Rick's foot.
Rick couldn't help it. He let out an involuntary yelp and jumped sideways, into Scotty. Scotty had no place to go but through the hotel door. He crashed into the rickety, partly hanging door, Rick on top of him.
Rick tried to get to his feet, sensing sudden noise and movement within the hotel, but he wasn't fast enough. A hand grabbed him by the arm and hauled him upright, and a fist glanced off his cheek-bone, snapping his head back.
Scotty, underneath, gathered his feet under him and charged like a plunging fullback, directly into the hotel. There was a grunt as the boy's head met yielding flesh, then a powerful arm circled his neck and he was lifted off his feet, fighting for breath.
A hand yanked Rick forward. His arms were twisted behind him. A pencil flashlight flicked on briefly and a voice muttered, "It's a couple of kids!"
Rick struggled, but subsided when it became clear that he could do nothing but wrench his arms out of joint.
A man muttered, "Rope in the car trunk."
Feet sounded on the boards of the hotel. Rick tried to pierce the gloom, to see his captors, but there wasn't enough light to see more than vague shapes. He had never heard the voices before. The feet came back. The voice said, "Lash 'em tight."
Rick was dumped face down on the dusty floor. Expert hands tied his wrists and ankles tight and lashed them together, with his knees bent at an acute angle and his shoulders pulled back. Next to him he sensed that Scotty was getting the same treatment.
A voice whispered, "Wonder who they are?"
"Doesn't matter," the first voice said. "We'll be out of here in fifteen minutes, if the others keep to schedule, and we won't be back. We can't use this place again."
A third voice broke in. "I didn't see a car. They must have cached it somewhere."
"You're right," the first voice agreed. "Find it, and fix it. Where'll we put these kids?"
The second voice had a suggestion. "The old jail across the street. We can lash 'em to the bunks."
Rick felt himself lifted like a sack of grain. He swayed as the man lugged him through the front of the hotel, across the porch, and into the street. His captor rounded the car that was waiting there and Rick strained to turn his head, to try to see the license plate, but couldn't catch a glimpse of it.
A creaky door was swung open and he was carried into an inner room and dropped face down. It knocked the breath out of him for a moment. When he recovered, he was tightly lashed to a rusty iron frame. His groping fingers felt the frame and the rope, but the knots were beyond his reach.
A voice asked, "Will we turn 'em loose later? We don't want 'em to die in here."
"They won't. They can get loose, but it will take a while and we'll be long gone. Come on."
The door creaked again. Rick listened to the sound of footsteps across loose boards, then there was silence.
Scotty whispered, "What do we do now? Wait for the Lone Ranger and Tonto?"
Rick had to grin, in spite of their plight. "Looks like it," he agreed. There was something ridiculous about being bundled into an antique Western jail. "Anyway, we didn't get bitten by that blasted snake."
"That worried me plenty," Scotty agreed. "Can you move at all?"
Rick's fingers hadn't stopped exploring. "Not much. How about you?"
"There's a sharp end of wire under my hands. I'm going to see if I can loosen the knots. Keep working."
"Don't worry," Rick whispered fervently. "I will."
Silence fell, except for an occasional scrape as they struggled. Rick's arms began to hurt, and his neck felt as though it would never straighten again. Gradually he worked the rope end into reach and began to move it, hoping to loosen the knot. Then there was a soft exclamation of triumph from Scotty.
"Are you free?" Rick whispered quickly.
"No. But I pulled the rope between my wrists and ankles loose enough so I can move. Just a minute."
Scotty got to his knees, balancing precariously. "I'm going to try to slide my hands down the frame to yours."
Rick strained his neck trying to see if there were any obstacles in the way, but he could see nothing. Scotty grunted. "I think I'm hung up on a bolt that's sticking through the frame." There was silence for a few moments while the boy struggled. "Made it," he muttered. "The ropes loosened a little."
Presently Rick felt Scotty's fingers and moved his own, seeking the ropes around his pal's wrists. He probed, trying to find the key to the knots. Finally, his right forefinger touched a free end, and he followed it into a twist of rope. His first two fingers could just reach the twist, and he set to work on it, moving the rope back and forth, trying to pull on it. Suddenly it gave.
"One," he said softly. There was another knot immediately under the loop he had just untied. It was tougher than the first one, but eventually he made it.
"I think you loosened it a little," Scotty said. "Maybe I can slide a knot over that bolt and pull loose."
Scotty moved away from him, sliding his hands along the rusty frame. The boys worked in silence, Rick tackling his own knots again while Scotty tried to use the rusty bolt as a lever.
Rick had to give up for a while. His hands hurt too much, and he knew that Scotty's must be hurting, too.
"Listen!" Scotty said suddenly.
A car, or a truck, was approaching the town, from the direction of Careless Mesa!
The boys tackled the knots with desperation and suddenly Scotty fell forward as his hands loosened.
Outside, the car braked to a stop. Rick wondered if Mac and Pancho had come to keep a rendezvous? He couldn't get rid of the feeling that those two were involved somehow.
"A few minutes more," Scotty gritted. "The knots are loose." Then, "I got it."
Moving swiftly, Scotty untied his ankles and knelt at Rick's side. Long minutes later Rick felt the ropes fall from his wrists. It didn't take long to get his ankles free, and he stood up, rubbing circulation back into his hands.
Scotty went to the doorway of the old jail and Rick joined him. "See anything?"
"No," Scotty whispered. "We'll have to go outside."
"We can't go out the front," Rick murmured. "They'd see us. That car stopped right in front. Let's see if there's a back entrance of some kind."
He led the way to the rear of the jail building, walking carefully in the darkness. There were windows but they were barred. He carefully felt his way past the jail's only cell, and along the back wall.
Outside, a motor spun into life.
Rick whirled. "They're going!"
Another motor started.
The boys turned and hurried to the front of the building. They were in time to see a sedan shift and speed away from the hotel, following the road toward civilization.
They hurried into the street and Scotty pointed in the opposite direction. The road back to the base was a dim, pale ribbon in the faint moonlight. Along it a dark shape was speeding.
"That does it," Rick said aloud.
Scotty turned to watch the departing sedan. "It didn't take them long to complete their business, whatever it was. I didn't hear any talk, did you?"
"Not a word. Do you suppose that was Mac and Pancho that came from the base?"
"No way of knowing, but it could have been. Come on. Let's find our jeep."
The jeep was where they had left it, but the hood was up. Scotty hurried to look, while Rick went to the glove compartment. The flashlight hadn't been touched. He got it and joined Scotty, throwing the beam under the hood.
For a moment everything looked normal, then Rick saw that the distributor cap and rotor were missing. The question was, had the men simply hidden them? Or had they taken the parts along?
Scotty put his thoughts into words. "If the parts are here, we'll find them in the morning. If they aren't ..."
Rick finished, "We'll be here until someone finds us!"