Kaneha had a premonition of danger.
"Bolt the door and do not let them enter," she said.
"They ride silently like Apache on the warpath, not open like honest men."
Sam laughed.
"You're just not used to seein' people," he said.
"They're probably jus' lookin' for the way to town."
"They come from the direction of town," Kaneha said. But it was too late. He was already outside the door.
"Howdy," he called as they pulled their horses up in front of the cabin.
"You Sam Sand?" the one in the lead asked.
Sam nodded. "That's me.
Whut kin I do for you gents?"
"We got a load we want hauled up to Virginia City," the man said. He took off his hat and wiped his face on his sleeve. "It's pow'ful hot today."
"It shore is," Sam nodded. "Come on inside and cool off a bit while we talk about it."
The men dismounted and Sam walked into the cabin.
"Fetch a bottle of whisky," he said to Kaneha. He turned back to the men. "Set yourself down.
What kind'a freight yuh got?"
"Gold."
"Gold?" Sam asked. "They ain't enough gold out heah to haul in a wagon."
"That ain't what we hear," one of the men said.
Suddenly there were guns in their hands. "We hear you got enough gold buried out heah to fill up a wagon."
Sam stared at them for a moment, then he laughed.
"Put your guns away, gents," he said.
"Yuh don' believe that crazy yarn, do yuh?"
The first man came slowly toward him. His arm flashed and the gun whipped across Sam's face.
Sam fell backward against the wall. He stared up at the man incredulously.
"Yuh’ll tell us where it is befo' we through," the man said tightly.
The air in the cabin was almost unbearably hot.
The three men had drawn off into a corner and were whispering among themselves. Occasionally they would glance across the room at their captives.
Sam hung limply, tied to the support post in the center of the cabin.
His head sagged down on his naked chest and the blood dropped down his face, matting on the graying red hair of his beard and chest.
His eyes were swollen and almost closed, his nose broken and squashed against his cheek.
Kaneha was tied in a chair. Her eyes were fixed unblinkingly on her husband.
She strained to turn her head to hear what the men were saying behind her but she could not move, she was bound too tightly.
"Mebbe he ain't really got the gold," one of the men whispered.
"He's got it all right," the first one said. "He's jus' tough.
Yuh don' know them ol' buffalo hunters like I do."
"Well, you ain't never goin' to make him talk the way yuh're goin'," the short man said.
"He's gonna die first."
"He'll talk," the first man answered. He went to the stove and took a burning coal from it with a pair of fire tongs.
He walked back to Sam and pulled his head back against the post by his hair. He held the tongs in front of Sam's face.
"Wheah's the gold?"
Sam's eyes were open.
His voice was a husky croak. "They ain't none. For God's sake wouldn't I tell yuh if they was?"
The man pressed the burning coal against Sam's neck and shoulder. Sam screamed in pain.
"They ain't no gold!"
His head fell sideways.
The man withdrew the burning coal and the blood welled up beneath the scorched flesh and ran down his chest and arm.
The man picked up a bottle of whisky from the table and took a swig from it. "Th'ow some water on him," he said. "If'n he won't talk for hisself, mebbe he'll talk for his squaw." The youngest man picked up a pail and threw water over Sam. Sam shook his head and opened his eyes. He stared at them. The oldest man put the bottle down and walked over to Kaneha.
He took a hunting knife from his belt.
The other men's eyes followed him.